(NOTE: This post was compiled in the aftermath of George Floyd’s murder by asphyxiation in Minneapolis but before the fatal shooting of Rayshard Brooks in Atlanta.)
Once upon a time, my husband (Rice) and I were newlyweds learning our way. At one point we sought counseling. For what, I don’t remember. Yet forty-some years later, I do remember a valuable lesson learned. Seems we had an imbalance of power based on our oral communication skills. He was an experienced college debater. If he wanted, he could brilliantly counter any point I tried to make. So during our newlywed spats, who do you think had more influence? Who would you guess had the power to “win”?
Through the years we’ve sometimes laughed that we paid a counselor to coach us on how to fight fair. Joking aside, learning to do that took time. And work. Rice had to learn how to argue without using tricks of the trade. I had to learn to stop over-reacting. We both had to learn that withdrawing, or walking away, is not healthy either. If Rice hadn’t learned to quiet his stronger voice, he never would’ve heard the messages I needed to share. If he hadn’t chosen to relinquish some of his voice’s power in order to truly hear me..., well, we wouldn’t be married today.
Inside the home and throughout the world at large, the balance of power is precarious. I believe the strongest among us has a duty to lift up our more vulnerable brothers and sisters who are in pain. Often the best way to do this is to talk less and listen more. To truly HEAR.
In that spirit, I approached some of my friends of color, hurting from recent events related to race and rioting, protests and policing. I asked this question: “What do you wish that your white friends could HEAR?” What follows are some of the things they shared with me. I challenge you to read them start to finish, even the parts that cause discomfort. Don’t think about how you’d like to counter the statements. Be still. Process the words. Strive to HEAR.
From CB: “I’m not a writer, but I’m sad, angry.... I have a husband and a huge family of black men and boys. It’s scary and enough is enough. We have several friends who are police officers as well. We’re scared for them just because of their uniform.”
From Lynnette McLeod (who shared the picture above of her father James and her brother Marvin - one of the last times they were together): “My brother was shot multiple times in the back by two Kansas City police officers on my mother’s front porch stairs in September 2008. She didn’t see the shooting, but she saw him lying there dead. Her only son. It was horrific. My sisters and I are scared for our nephews and their sons. Every time this happens we relive what happened to our brother over and over. Jesus Lord in heaven, I have so much to say....
Yet this turns out to be harder for me than I thought it would be. I've been crying every day since the Ahmaud Arbery incident. I tried to be honest with my feelings but I am overwhelmed with so many emotions. I’m going to send you some pictures of things that are growing in my garden. Beautiful flowers came up this year despite the chipmunks and the squirrels. It’s one of the few things that makes me happy and gives me peace.”
From Sierra R: “I have enjoyed seeing the outpouring of support for the Black Lives Matter movement. I just hope people don’t forget to support/love each other to this extent as we move forward and beyond our current predicaments. At the end of the day, we all bleed. Each of our bodies requires the same provisions to endure and survive. We are not as different as some would like to believe, or others would like for us to believe.
There have been deep-seated problems in the media portrayal of African Americans. While these portrayals are much better now than they have been in the past, this positive path needs to continue. For some people, these media portrayals of black individuals are the only knowledge they have of African Americans.
There are good people and bad people within every ethnic background, and it is unfair and unreasonable to portray the minority of a people (those who do wrong) as the majority. I don’t think people take enough time or energy to look beneath the surface and into the underlying reasons behind people’s actions (why they do the things they do). Reasoning doesn't justify everything, but it can help identify underlying issues. As adults, we need to contemplate why these issues persist and how we can fix them."
From Kelly Copeland (pictured above with her father in 2018): “My oldest child is 8 and I have had to have uncomfortable conversations with her since she was about two. For her protection, I’ve talked to her about inappropriate touching. We’ve discussed how there are bad people in the world, and when I say she has to stay where I can see her in a public place, it’s because someone could try to take her from me.
The conversations have compounded as the years have passed and our family has grown. Don’t ever play in a parked car because babies have died that way. You have to practice Code Red (active shooter) drills starting in kindergarten because babies have died at school. September 11th, 2001 is a significant day in American history because babies died in those buildings. These have all been conversations I have done my best to confront head on, but they make me uncomfortable.”
Recently I sat with my daughter and told her there were protests going on around the world, and it was important for us to participate. I had to brace myself and hold back tears when I told her another black person had been killed for a completely unjustifiable reason. It was uncomfortable. What if this scared her? What if she asked me questions I couldn’t answer? Chipping away at her innocence and naivety is uncomfortable. I do it anyway because it is the right thing to do. She has to know how to protect herself, she has to know how to stand up for others, and she has to know right from wrong.
Here’s what I’d like my white friends to hear: When your black or brown friends (or parents at the ball field...or fellow book club members...or neighbors) open up and talk about racism, remember they are uncomfortable, too. Please don’t walk away. Stay and listen. Discuss and learn from each other. Be uncomfortable. Be brave like my daughter!”
From Agnes B: “I’ve thought about your request to write about my feelings but at this time, I cannot. I am experiencing such a myriad of emotions that fully processing my thoughts is too painful. I have limited my intake of information for this reason.
My daughter shared a post with me. [Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XB2azvu_rSQ ~ YouTube: Trevor Noah Speaks on Racism]. I hope you’ll watch. I think where he talks about the numerous incidents that happen that we don’t hear about because they weren’t gruesome enough..., that is so heartbreaking for me. The everyday occurrences, year in and year out. Before cellphone cameras and social media...systemic abuse of power...colleagues who stand by and won’t step in and say, ‘Enough!’ It’s too difficult to grasp.”
From Sabrina Mallett (pictured above with her sons - previously posted on FaceBook): “It was great to attend the United Against Racism march with the boys today [June 13, 2020]. Sponsored by the North Georgia Annual Conference of the United Methodist Church, this protest highlighted the historical role of the church in contributing to systemic racism. It’s time for the body of Christ to unite to be about the true gospel of Jesus (Luke 4:18-19). #blacklivesmatter”
From Ryan P (pictured above) by way of his Aunt Lynnette - previously posted on Facebook:
“Dear White Friends and Family,
I want to start off by saying, I love y’all. Therefore I want y’all to understand what goes through my mind and other black people’s minds when they see black people killed senselessly by cops. So let’s play a mental game. Think of a nice black man that you know in your life whether it’s a co-worker, friend, lover, nice guy at the grocery store, your child’s friend, whoever you can think of. Now close your eyes and keep that mental image in your mind for 10 seconds…. Do you have that person saved in your mind? Now put that person’s face onto George Floyd’s. How do you feel? Now put that same face onto every killing we’ve seen over the past few years, even decades. And that’s the mental game black people are forced to project whenever we see this happen.
We think of our brothers, cousins, fathers, uncles, best friends and feel traumatized every single time. Now imagine having to play this mental game for decades, how exhausted would you be? How angry would you be?
Just so we’re clear, I do not condone rioting, but I UNDERSTAND it.
Just so we’re clear, the majority of black people are PEACEFUL law-abiding citizens.
Just so we’re clear, black people want to see this nation succeed and be a part of the process just like you.
However, when we see our friends and family consistently being killed by abusive authorities and nothing being done about it, we grow angry, and we sit in that anger for years, time after time until finally a peaceful protest turns into a riot. And as bad as these riots are, they aren’t as bad as they could be.
As of 2017 there were an estimated 45 million black people in this country. With that said, if all 45 million wanted to, we could burn this country to the ground. But we don’t because, as I said, the majority of black people are PEACEFUL and want to succeed and see this country succeed just like you.
Therefore, as Americans let’s be kind to each other, and let’s stand up for one another when authorities abuse their power. Let’s see each other as people with common goals and interests. Let’s make this social contract fair for everyone, and we’ll grow stronger than ever.”
More from Lynnette McLeod, pictured above (on left) with her nephew Ryan and his mother Joyce: “I sat at my computer several times trying to compose my thoughts and emotions about my brother’s shooting in 2008, but as I continued to watch events unfold, all I could do was cry. My emotions have gone from sadness to frustration to anger. I still don’t have words to express how I feel, which is why I chose to share something my nephew Ryan posted on Facebook.
I love this young man like he was my own son, and I’m going to let his words speak for me. What I want you to know is that he is smart, graduated with Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees in Political Science - Magna Cum Laude from the University of Alabama. He’s fluent in Spanish and has a passionate desire to help our country through service in the public sector. He has so much to give, and I want to see him succeed. But I live in fear everyday, along with his mother and his other aunts, that one day the same thing that happened to George Floyd could happen to him. I have several other nephews, and this fear is magnified and multiplied as we worry about all the young men in our family.
My nephews and I are law-abiding citizens who have served through military and other service to help protect our country. We just want the same thing every one else wants: to live free and not be afraid that if we leave our homes, we might be killed by a white police officer or some other random white person trying to make a citizen’s arrest.
You fight for the rights of a fetus but choke us to death or shoot us for no reason. Why?
I ASK THAT YOU JUST LET ME AND MY FAMILY LIVE.”
Jan here again: This post is dedicated to my black and brown friends on this Juneteenth, the day that commemorates emancipation from slavery in Texas in 1865. I share it to honor these friends, but my hope is that individuals of all colors and from all walks might read it and ponder it.
To my friends who are white and read this in its entirety, thank you. To my friends who are black or brown, I will continue to ask what you have to say and stick around to HEAR you. I will try to talk less and listen more. And to Rice, thank you for fighting fair for forty-plus years now. You help me to hear and see things I might otherwise miss, and I love you for it.
To all, we’ve traveled far...but the road to know and do better begs us to stay the course.
Blessings ~ J
I started drafting this post less than two weeks ago, really burned out over COVID-19 yet not quite ready to re-enter the brave new world. I was pondering what to write. Seems pandemics can cause a lack of focus. Not to fear, though, I got an idea. It began with using words for therapy. It ended with my seeing color more clearly than I have for some time now.
When I was younger, I used to write Haiku, an ancient form of Japanese poetry often related to nature or the seasons. Its simplified American version is to structure a three-line verse, with a five/seven/five syllable pattern. No rhyme needed. Punctuation and capitalization is up to the poet. What’s not to like, right?
So pardon my bad poetry, but writing these made me feel good.
Eastern redbud, grow.
Big as the long-dead cherry.
Grant us living shade.
*
Regal hydrangea.
Not pink or blue, but purple.
I like you the best.
*
I’m not a clepto.
Storm-felled street signs tempt me, though.
Landscape’s their reward.
*
Haiku got me outside, helped me remember the world has beauty, made me take time to really see nature’s colors.
Then came May 19. The world turned gray again. Crazy rains and broken dams wreaked havoc in my home state of Michigan. My sister and her husband canoed away from their riverfront home, unsure what would be left when they returned to Saginaw. Less than an hour away, friends evacuated their home on Lake Wixom, breaking quarantine to take refuge elsewhere. Their daughter was affected by the floods, too, and continues to oversee relief efforts in the nearby village of Sanford, which was decimated.
Disasters, like pandemics, cause pain. They affect concentration. Not to be thwarted, I turned to writing a longer Haiku, or Tanka. Its five/seven/five/seven/seven syllable pattern can be more serious and cynical than traditional Haiku, which seemed apt.
The Tanka below is for my Michigan.
Sometimes what we love
Also causes grief and pain.
Michigan, your lakes
Touched my childhood and my soul.
Your floods have broken my heart.
*
Then my friend Joel died, and gray became grayer. I had one of those screw-it—no-wait-hang-in-there—it’ll-all-be-okay moments. Joel didn’t die from COVID, but his health was compromised. I wear a mask for those at risk, like Joel, so in a way, this one’s for him.
Face mask, go to hell!
That is what I’d like to say.
But I bind it on.
Air-sucking. Laugh-inducing.
Worn for others; not for me.
*
And then George Floyd died. Justice was slow in coming, and the riots started.
I voiced the following opinion: “I don’t condone the violence, but I understand the rage.”
Several of my white friends just shook their heads at that. Their reactions made me—correction, I let them make me—feel wrong. Should I take my statement back? Or try harder to help them understand? I was, after all, raised with Midwestern sensibilities: Make nice. Try to see all sides. Don’t rock the boat, especially if it’s a political one.
Well, like it or not, this one’s political. The current political climate isn’t healthy. And I’m tired. So this one’s for Mr. Floyd.
Have you ever felt
Calm? Then someone riles you up.
Shame on politicians’ rants.
Negative thoughts. Outright lies.
Hate spreads easier than love.
*
Yup, I’m tired. Tired of being silenced—correction, of letting myself be silenced. How can I write about issues that matter if I’m always worried that oh, no, wait, I might upset someone I’ve cared about for eons?
When I silence myself, I remain unheard. When I feel unheard, it can lead to rage. To that extent, I can understand the rioters’ feeling of rage. Which in a roundabout way leads me back to color. Specifically, Black.
No, I’m not Black, and yes, that makes me privileged. I have friends of color, and I ask them to cuff me on the side of the head when I say things that are insensitive or off the mark in this regard. Lucky for me, they’re patient. (And I have a strong head.) They’ve taken time to explain that I’m not privileged because my life is perfect, but because my life isn’t valued differently because of my skin tone.
They’ve helped me understand that the phrase “I don’t see color” is not a compliment. If I don’t see color, then I don’t have to acknowledge racial disparities. If I don’t see color, then I don’t have to try to understand systemic racism.
It’s all there. In black and white, sure. But also in a big fat kaleidoscope of color. Sometimes it hurts to look and examine things closely, but I’m doing it.
I’m starting to see color once again. And not just in the garden.
Blessings - J (who's not feeling quite up to bidding you cheers at the moment)
“When the world wearies....”
What a way to label a post, eh? Especially these days, in the midst of a pandemic.
Perhaps I should clarify up front. The words in this post’s title are borrowed from 18th century poet Minnie Aumonier. The full verse appears below:
Boy, do I love/hate that verse! For one thing, the world—this pandemic—it is making me weary. (Ironically, in the midst of this big ol’ cluster, pollution rates are down in New York City, Los Angeles, and too many other big cities to name. Before and after illustrations show we’re reducing our carbon footprints and cleaning our eco-systems. Is the world perking up and saying thank you for the respite?)
For another thing, society is failing to satisfy. I mean, COVID-19 continues to suck, and people’s responses to it can be, well, jarring and unpredictable. Just listen to all the armchair public health experts, the conspiracy theorists, the battling politicians, and the burned-out-people-merely-trying-to-get-by. Everyone’s tweaking the rules. Nobody’s exactly satisfied.
The best part of the verse for me is this: there is always the garden. I understand that for some, that garden is meager. For others it might be a metaphor. Or maybe a mere memory. But everybody must have some sort of garden, no? Even in death?
For me, at present, my garden’s a whole big fat juicy yard—and life—that Rice and I tend together. With crossed fingers and yellow thumbs, we’ve made it into a place of refuge, a backdrop to plenty of spats but also to moments of sunshine that can burst a heart.
But I can’t totally love the garden part of this verse because it reminds me of the world’s inequities. For people like me—recently retired, physically and fiscally okay—this pandemic has mostly been an inconvenience. When I tend my garden, I can almost forget we’re in a crisis. Yet to forget would dishonor the lives lost. To forget would disregard the millions who are sick, frightened, out of work, forced to work, hungry, facing business failure, fretting over bankruptcy, exhausted from front-line response, burned out from providing endless care....
I don’t take lightly the messages from former co-workers, still doing battle on behalf of public health:
“We are working overtime, six days a week, no leave, no flex.....”
“All I want to do is sleep....”
“It is hard to sleep. I keep waking up in a panic....”
“Please pray for us....”
Of course, I can and will pray. As I tend my garden, I’ll remember those who keep fighting the good fight. But is there a way to honor them, aside from prayer? I’m not quite sure. I don’t have millions to donate to humanitarian efforts. I don’t have boundless energy to volunteer. What I do have is faith in humanity, coupled with positivity and gratitude.
In the spirit of positivity, here’s a stab at a Top Ten Gratitude List, prompted by living in these times of COVID-19.
I am grateful that:
10. Scoring a roll of toilet paper can be an exhilarating experience. Who would have ever thought that?
9. Disconnecting can be good. I know, clicking off those news briefs is a bit like turning away from a train wreck. It’s possible, though. Just. Press. Off.
8. Zoom is now my friend. Shoot, I don’t just use it. I subscribe to the Pro version and facilitate socials and meetings with it.
7. There really is an upside to being an introvert.
6. Being a packrat has its upsides, too. How else would I have been able to stuff bears into our upstairs window so neighborhood kids could enjoy going on a bear hunt?
5. Walking the neighborhood can be as invigorating as an Olympic event if you put enough oomph behind it. Or, it can just get you out of the house and moving.
4. One can worry about the food chain supply but still enjoy eating well. (That has a downside, too, but let’s not bring the scale onto this list.)
3. Life goes on. Not for everyone, mind you. For most of us, though, plans get spoiled (big ones like spring break trips, weddings, proms and graduations, family reunions and retirement parties),,,but life goes on.
2. Nothing beats the small wonders: ...the sly spectacle of a bird nesting under a painting on the patio, ...the twitter of baby birds coming from that nest, ...the magical mystery of family sagas, like The Case of the Misplaced Purple Playdough Poop Nuggets.
1. For me, the small wonders include this promise: when the world wearies..., there is always the garden. Wishing you positivity, gratitude, and safety in the shelter of your own garden.
Peace ~ J
