Source: a little about me
Source: a little about me
Today is today, tomorrow will be tomorrow. Life goes on, good and bad, safe and dangerous, and fair and unfair.
Currently I am in a good place, with a new sense of confidence and ability to do what I am meant to. On the other side of that good place I am angry and dismayed.
Today is a sunny and gorgeous autumn day in Western North Carolina. A day for hiking mountain paths, mowing the yard for the last or almost next time this year or for a fall cleaning blitz. For me those activities mean that all is right with the world. And in my little world all is good. Today anyway.
And yet, all is not right in the world. In Charlotte and Atlanta there are marches and protests. Another black life has been snuffed. More than one, with ________ in Tulsa. There is question as to why there are less and less efforts to deescalate these situations instead of shooting to kill. I remember times when a suspect would be talked down or at worst, shot in the leg. That seems to be no more.
I’ve been reading and commenting upon Jim Wallis’ (Sojourner magazine) blog on this topic: https://sojo.net/articles/truth-talks-conversations-we-need-have#comment-2915117591
The ravine between white men who deny the existence of white privilege and those who work to convince them that it exists, is deep and wide. (And yes, women deny white privilege as well, but not as vociferously.) Why is it that some will cry out about their 2nd Amendment right to bear arms at seemingly all costs, while chastising those who kneel in silence during the national anthem or march in protest of unequal treatment of black Americans in our cities? The right to protest is an Amendment to forget?
It’s much easier to see the biases and faults of others than it is to see our own. I definitely get that. Those who responded to my words of response on Jim Wallis’ blog, those who say white privilege does not exist, were ready to explain or defend the police action in Tulsa and Charlotte. One admitted that racism may still exist. May. How I wish that it was only a mere possibility!
These responders were apparently white and male. One said he knew a few black people, but not well. Both decried the protests as unacceptable, emphasizing looting and riots as the reason. There was blame given to the black community for not favoring education enough (the ubiquitous “they” don’t encourage it) and that the black community encourages their own to hate police. And yet these statements come from two people who admit or seem to admit that their knowledge comes from “what I hear” or “what I’ve read.”
I as a white woman, am no savior of people with darker skin than mine. However, if I do not speak what I believe to be the raw truth, I am failing myself, my children and my friends. But not ONLY these, I am failing humanity if I don’t share what I know, and do my best to be a culture broker, sharing what I know to be true from those who know that they do not receive equal treatment from shop owners, police and others.
Erin Hensley Schultz bravely says what I am saying, and is far more eloquent in So, Which Is It? It helps me to know that there are others out there like me, who feel the need to speak even though others will say we are nuts, bending over backward to help those who should be helping themselves. WHAAAT???
Today I am not in Charlotte marching. I wish I was and know that I could have gotten there if I really wanted to. As I watched CNN last night and saw marchers go mile after mile, I wondered if I could really do it. My hips hurt as I watched a reporter walk and walk and walk. And yet there was an energy in the crowd and I imagine many felt no pain.
I am wondering. There is a small black community near where I live. I want to reach out and let them know I am upset. Will I offend them? Should I not worry? What can I do?
When I write again, I hope to be able to tell you more.
Marching in Spirit and in Love.
Peace to ALL.
(Please follow me at chaplynn03blog.wordpress.com
I could write something in the same vein, but it would not be half as clear. Jillian Stacia speaks to what I believe, what I feel.
I pinked myself today. Something I’ve wanted to do, but was too chicken. Then a reason came up. An excuse? Maybe, but I don’t think so.
You see, I have quite strong feelings about the abundance of pink at football games in October, in merchandising (where little if any money goes to cancer research) and simply the preponderance of PINK over the other colors of cancer. We don’t see any other cancer populating male dominated sports the way we do the glaring Pepto Bismol shade of breast cancer awareness.
Why not purple for prostate and pancreas cancers? Blue for colon cancer, and why not spread the love and go red for heart disease? A little of those colors may be seen here and there, but never with the bold and brazen save the “ta ta”s pink.
Why am I so snarky about this? I guess because I’ve always been a person who believes in fairness. Breast cancer is getting all the attention and it simply isn’t right. Prostate cancer is something football players should be concerned about. But of course that wouldn’t be attractive. Big guys wearing purple to educate other guys about the dangers of this disease? Prostate cancer is a cancer most men will have before they die if they live long enough.
Men don’t like to think about prostate cancer because of its one major side effect, that while varying from man to man, is a true downer. Literally. The to have an erection is very likely to decrease (sorry, I can’t think of better words), and while there are medications, and other treatments, I don’t know a man alive who wants to think about it. Understandably so.
I have dear friends who have had breast cancer. I support them and the fight against breast cancer. I would do anything for them, probably even wear pink. A dear friend of my daughter has breast cancer, and recently underwent surgery. Their group of friends got together before the surgery and all dyed a part of their hair pink. I was touched by this and said “I will too!” and then said nothing until now. Today a thatch of my hair was dyed pink, and while I think it looks pretty cool, I didn’t do it for me (ok, I really did want to give it a try), but mostly for Kat, offering support across the miles.
I’m not wearing pink ribbons, but I am supporting my friends. I look for the day when professional sports players wear a color that takes more courage than pink.
Next time purple? We’ll see. Today it’s Pink… for Kat.
This is such a well written piece. Erin says what I feel and what I believe. She quotes MLK: “Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.” White people like me cannot pretend that all is fine and good, or that we’re good people without prejudice or even more… white privilege. We ALL are prejudiced in some way whether we are aware of it or not. Most of us don’t like to think we are, but I can think of many times when I saw someone and thought a thought that I’d rather not admit, and it came from a dark place within. A place where my almost all white upbringing left me without knowledge of people with darker skin, a place where I didn’t expect a black woman to be a physician, or that we would one day have a black president. I believe I’ve grown out of that prejudice, and yet sometimes my white girl ignorance slaps me in the face.
White privilege on the other hand is something that white people must acknowledge, and stand up for our brothers and sisters of color, protecting them when others won’t. Our voices must be raised.
When I say “protecting” I mean that we use our own white privilege to speak up regarding Black Lives Matter, Driving While Black and such. Our Black and Hispanic brothers and sisters do so as well, yet I believe until white people say ENOUGH!! ENOUGH!! Black Lives will not matter as they should. Oh for a day when we did not describe a person by his or her color of skin. Thank you Erin.
I’m scared to post this. I’m afraid of alienating people I love, people I interact with on a daily basis, people whose friendships I value. I wouldn’t say this if it hadn’t been weighing heavy, like a 50 pound weight on my tongue every time I open my mouth to say something and stop before it comes out because I don’t want to stir the pot. I don’t want anyone to be mad at me. I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. But I can’t, in good conscience, do that anymore.
I live with a certain degree of privilege. Monetary privilege? Not so much. But social privilege? Absolutely. I am part of a demographic that is perceived as the LEAST THREATENING to society. I’m a White Lady. Further, I’m a Southern White Lady. Still further, I’m a Heterosexual, Cis-Gender, Southern White Lady who Happens to be the Married Mother of Two…
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So important. Please read.
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As if there isn’t enough bad/sad news. Disturbing, extremely disturbing.
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
A new book 10 years in the making examines how many major U.S. universities — Harvard, Yale, Princeton, Brown, Dartmouth, Rutgers, Williams and the University of North Carolina, among others — are drenched in the sweat, and sometimes the blood, of Africans brought to the United States as slaves. In “Ebony & Ivy: Race, Slavery, and the Troubled History of America’s Universities,” Massachusetts Institute of Technology American history professor Craig Steven Wilder reveals how the slave economy and higher education grew up together. “When you think about the colonial world, until the American Revolution, there is only one…
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