These Three Words
I’ve been going around in circles trying to write a post that follows my usual attempt at structure—flow, a beginning, a middle, and an end. Today, I decided: F that. I’m just going to sit here and type what’s in my head.
There may be posts that follow that are more coherent and sequenced, but this is all I’ve got today.
Note: I’m going to speak in generalities about white people. I fully recognize that a lot of white people don’t fall into every example I’m going to name here. But—and you’ll see this later—stop making this about you and understand my point: these issues are not limited to narrow cross-sections of the U.S., and they are not limited to Trump voters.
I grew up around enough so-called liberal white people in a so-called liberal city in Michigan to know that people in the North can be just as—if not more—racist than people in the South.
If nothing else, dealing with a lot of racism behind polite smiles in the North has given me a bullshit detector for knowing when “concern” and “understanding” are only as deep as the veneer on IKEA furniture.
Exhaustion
For most—if not all—of us, and by “us” I mean Black people, we are exhausted.
Exhausted from seeing lives unjustly and violently taken without much regard outside of the Black community. Exhausted from having to explain what racism looks like and feels like again and again. Exhausted from having to endure macro- and micro-aggressions because if we say something, we’re accused of “making everything about race.”
We are told to calm down. To speak with less emotion. To not raise our voices.
As Fannie Lou Hamer said: “I am sick and tired of being sick and tired.”
But despite the exhaustion, there is no time to be tired. I have to push through. I have to keep moving. It’s what I’ve done all my life—just as I’ve held out hope for decades that white people will finally wipe clean the filter of privilege and see what’s really happening to precious human lives.
This is not a time for being “woke”—a bit of a trigger word for me these days because of the way it has been co-opted and weaponized.
This is a time for taking it upon yourself to learn the unvarnished history of this country, particularly texts written by non-white authors. Read fiction and nonfiction by Black, Latino, Indigenous, and Asian writers—work that might give you insight into cultural perspectives and the nuances of navigating a white-dominated society.
Maybe—just maybe—this will help stop the questions and disbelief: “I didn’t know that was a thing.” “Does that still happen?” “I can’t believe…” Ugh.
And notice your reflexes.
Notice when you immediately scroll past a movie with a predominant Black cast because, somewhere in your mind, you think: “This isn’t for me.”
If I can sing the words to nearly every song in Grease, why don’t you know the words to every song from Love Jones? That may sound trivial, but it points to a troubling cultural undercurrent: everyone is expected to know “white stuff,” but “Black stuff” is treated as niche.
Words
Speaking of words: there seems to be backlash about “word police” or “thought police.” Lots of hand-wringing about not wanting to say the wrong thing.
Here’s something simple. If you have to think twice before saying something, or if a little voice in your head says, “This could be edgy”—don’t say that shit.
And as much as you might think you got “busted” by someone Black, understand this: we self-police our words all the time. Our tongues are scarred from all the times we’ve had to bite down and not say something because we decided to pick and choose our battles.
Instead of getting annoyed about phrases and words you’re “not allowed” to say anymore, ask yourself whether those things should have ever crossed your lips in the first place.
I might smile uncomfortably when you call something “ghetto,” but my teeth are cover for my mind wanting to shout: STFU.
Listen
Try making an effort to truly listen to Black people you meet.
And also Latinos. Asians. Indigenous people.
Listen to Black women.
It probably isn’t my place to say this as a man, but I’m going to say it anyway: from where I sit, white women really need to work on this one.
Wanting the power of sisterhood can’t show up only when it’s convenient to white women—and only if white women run the movement.
Stop labeling Black women as enraged or angry without understanding they have every right to be angry. And loud. And in-your-face. Sometimes that’s exactly what the moment calls for.
Look at the statistics for cancer, diabetes, hypertension, infant mortality, and so many other measures of physical and mental health. Black women are catching hell—yet they’re expected to make everyone else comfortable instead of crying out in pain.
Stop making this about you
And while I’m on this: resist getting all in your feelings and “unwittingly” making conversations about race be about you.
Please don’t utter “But I’m not racist” and think you’re absolved. Just don’t.
Now, I’m not saying shut the fuck up.
Well… I kind of am—because I have been in far too many conversations over the last 30+ years (do you see why I’m exhausted?) where white people get pricked by one or two statements of fact and want to shut it down.
Meanwhile, I’ve got a body covered in the scars of a thousand thorns of racism.
Color-blindness
Please stop saying you are color-blind. That chaps my ass so fast.
I get the sentiment, but “not seeing color” carries an expectation that everyone will be the same. That’s boring as hell. I want you to see my color—accept my color and culture. Don’t water me down (or water others down) to make having me around more comfortable for you.
Ask yourself whether you’ve said this about that one Black friend you have: “I don’t see them as Black.” The words may not be exact, but the thought is there.
I know it happens because I’ve heard that stupid shit all my life: “You’re not like other Black people.”
ARGH. Oh really? How about now?!
One more thing: stop saying someone “who just happened to be Black.” No one “happens” to be Black, Asian, Latino, or Indigenous. Saying that feels dismissive of race.
And if race is relevant in the context of what you’re saying, don’t be embarrassed to name it.
Stop doing this
I hate that I even have to type this in 2020.
STOP. DOING. BLACKFACE!
The Internet is forever. Post some stupid shit…be prepared for it to haunt you.
Don’t try to argue with me about who can/cannot use the “N-word.” Just don’t!
Stop telling someone Black that you’re darker than them because you got a tan.
Don’t assume Black people are ok with joke about and insults of other racial and ethnic groups.
Appreciate that having a Black friend or two doesn’t give you carte blanche to be very familiar with other Black people.
Three words
I feel my blood pressure rising and my skin getting hot. Let me step back for a second and explain the title of this post.
I was thinking about Stevie Wonder’s song “These Three Words.” He’s referring to “I love you,” but I couldn’t help thinking about how the phrase “Black Lives Matter” should land as simple, human truth—something that shouldn’t require debate, explanation, or bargaining.
The one for whom you'd give your very life
Could be taken in the twinkling of an eye
Through your tears you'd ask why did you go
Knowing you didn't always show just how much you love them so
These three words sweet and simple
These three words short and kind
These three words always kindles
An aching heart to smile inside
Three words. Plain. Short. Kind.
And somehow still treated like a provocation.
What can you do?
I’ve got more on my mind, but I need to step away from the computer for a while. I’m emotionally spent, and I’m unapologetically turning inward to heal.
Before I go, let’s turn the negative energy often associated with white guilt into the positive energy of acknowledgment.
Can you acknowledge there’s a systemic issue of racism without needing to insist you’re not part of the problem?
Can you hold the truth—without getting tripped up on guilt and angst—that there is a thread between the relative success and freedoms many white people enjoy and the enslavement of Africans for hundreds of years, followed by Jim Crow and state-sanctioned racism, discrimination, and bigotry?
To not see that the threads woven into the cloak of privilege were spun from a long history of racial animus, disdain, and indifference to the loss of life and promise is mind-boggling, disheartening, and deflating.
Racism and privilege are insidious problems, and they have to be addressed with openness and honesty.
What can you do?
Resist the urge to jump in and run shit. So often that impulse turns into control.
I don’t have a lot of answers right now. Let’s begin with listening. Start there.
Be okay with not having answers at the end of every conversation. Accept that you may become uncomfortable.
Be okay with being the only white person in a group—Black people have dealt with that dynamic for centuries and didn’t feel the need to announce it.
Find the courage to check your family and friends when they say or do something you know—or feel—is wrong.
Stay interested and engaged in racial equality and justice after things seem to “settle down.” The hard work often takes place when no one is looking.
A word to my people
If you’ve made it this far, let me be very clear about something for white people in my family (stepmother, cousins, ancestors) and for my white friends, neighbors, yoga students, and anyone I meet randomly: this post may have been tough to read, but I’m speaking from a place of love.
I approach our relationships from a position of equality. No one is better or more valuable than another.
I don’t need you to do cartwheels and handstands to prove you believe Black lives matter—that I matter.
Just be open to conversation, rants, occasional periods of silence, or my unwillingness to engage.
And please be ready to have the collective back of Black folks when wrongs need to be set right.
As I said early on, I have to believe there’s hope for a shift. To believe anything else would assign my spirit—my being—to a life without space or capacity for joy.
There’s an old saying in my family: “You can’t be a beacon if your light don’t shine.”
Peace, Love + Light!
