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Over the past few days, some friends have dropped off gifts at our door. 6 pack of craft beer, fancy coffee beans, and yesterday a beautiful cherry pie. There’ve been cards and funny gifts sent in the mail. I know a lot of good people. Here’s what’s happening.
I understand anger. I know grief. Protests are necessary. The systematic way racism works to oppress, then undermine advocacy is real. I experience racism every day. I’m serious when I say that. Every. Single. Day. For my non-Black friends it’s different.
My guess is part of their life is not knowing. The white kids sitting next to me in 2nd grade did not know about racism. If the saw racism they didn’t have the word for it. But I did. When I was 8 I could easily explain to you why the teacher treated me poorly. ALL YEAR. I was 8.
By 4th & 5th grade, I had my first Black teachers Ms. Hunter and Mr. King. I wish I could find these teachers today. Ms. H taught science. Mr. K taught math. They changed my life. They got to me before the systemic racism changed me permanently. That’s another story.
I was 10, but I knew racism was still there. I knew why I wasn’t invited to birthday parties. I knew the cautions my parents took every day, every trip to the store, every vacation, every breath to keep me and my sisters safe. And strong.
Fun fact about me (and I don’t speak for all or any other Black people. Just me) I don’t touch stuff when I go shopping. If I touch stuff it’s because I’m going to try it on or buy it. I can remember watching white kids at the mall touching everything. I was 12.
Time has passed since I was 12. But just this month, someone at work said a casual racist remark to me front of other colleagues. My instinct is to stay silent, but for 30 years I’ve been trying to find my voice. “Why would you say that?” I asked. It still felt like silence.
I don’t want to say I’m good at dealing with racism. But I’m practiced. My others friends are not. This is new. Racism used to be: 1. Enslaving people 2. Lynching 3. Segregation. If we didn’t do these things there was no racism. But now people are learning.
Everything I’ve learned over my whole life, y’all are learning now. Social determinants of health, disparities, food deserts, privilege, incarceration politics, brutality, micro aggressions. A lot to process and understand. If you’ve never experienced it, you can’t understand.
For my non-Black friends it’s been a different path. 1. Ignorance (did not know racism existed) 2. Denial (does not believe it still exists 3. Fear (OMG what if racism does exist and I’ve systematically benefited from it) 4. Guilty (sorry, unsure what to do)
5. Silence (I don’t think silence is bad if you are thinking and listening) 6. Ally 7. Activist (Woke folks. Please carry the burden for us. Some of us are tired.) But what about the gifts at my door?
Are the gestures part of guilt or reparations? I don’t think so. My non-Black friend are experiencing grief. And it’s not for my rage and sadness. My friends are grieving the deaths of Black people they didn’t know. It is an unexpected pain. I’ve felt it before. They haven’t.
Inside this box was a beautiful cherry pie. It is my favorite pie. The friend behind this gift is direct all the time, never prone to internet tirades or theatrics, stoic straightforward solid. Emotional gestures are not her thing. But a day later, I cried over this pie.
