Thursday, September 22, 2011

The United States Needs a Moral Upgrade

To say the nation has lost its moral compass is inaccurate. It implies that at one time we operated under principles of morality, but somehow just misplaced that darn compass and started down the wrong track. And, since a compass is fairly worthless without a map, it also implies that we had a fairly good map of the moral landscape in the first place.

No, with the technology we have available today, it's about time we upgraded to a moral GPS. The kind that talks to you in your head and says,
"That Black man in the elevator is not going to steal your purse."
"All Asians don't look alike and you shouldn't ask her where she's from just because you can't tell the difference."
"This land where your house is doesn't really belong to you."
"A life taken does not give a life back"
You know, stuff like that. In the voice of Morgan Freeman.

But instead we're still trying to find our way without compass, map or satellite. And while we're stumbling around, we're doing morally abhorrent things like killing Troy Davis.

I listened to the widow of Officer MacPhail say, "We have laws in this land so that there is not chaos. We are not killing Troy because we want to." She implies it is a system, one she has no control over, that is responsible for his execution. And the system is necessary to keep from some kind of chaotic lawlessness that we'd all inevitably engage in if we didn't have the death penalty to 'teach us a lesson'.

No, wait. Not all of us. Those people. Those Black people who recognized they were the ones she's scared of and showed it by writing Facebook posts, holding up signs and wearing shirts that proclaimed, "I am Troy Davis."

Because I doubt she thinks she and her family would collapse into lawlessness, looting and killing, if the threat of death was not hanging over their heads. And I don't imagine she thinks that about her White neighbors.

It reminds me of the time in one of my teacher education classes where we were talking about the use of scared-straight tactics in schools. A young blond woman proclaimed, "I went on a field trip to a jail when I was in high school. We walked into a cell and they closed the bars behind me. I swore at that moment I'd never commit a crime."

Another student astutely (and sarcastically) pointed out, "Yeah, I bet that's all that saved you from a life of crime." Of course, that assumes you even have to commit the crime to be punished.

As a White woman, I am not Troy Davis, I am assumed innocent, even when I am guilty.

Last night I had a dream that I was the prosecutor who successfully sought the death penalty for Troy Davis. I walked into a room with wooden bleacher-style seating in front of a one-way glass window to watch the execution. As I sat down facing the glass, Mr. Davis's family sat in the row in front of me. Only, they were facing in my direction, rather than watching the preparations for his death. I looked at them and helplessly tried to explain why I had to do what I did, how it was out of my hands. I wanted to apologize to them, but realized no explanation or apology was possible at that moment. Then I woke up because I couldn't breath due to the lump in my throat from crying.

Does being white automatically make me the prosecutor? I like to think not. At the same time I am constantly asking myself, what more could I be doing to see this doesn't happen? When have I done enough? This is not out of a sense of guilt, but rather a sense of our collective responsibility to change the system of White supremacy that allows this to happen. To acquire the tools to navigate a new landscape together.

When will we realize that vengeance does not lead down the path to peace? That your suffering will not relieve my suffering? We need to upgrade to 21st century morality and truly see, feel and act from a recognition of our global interconnectedness.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Racial Microaggressions

Dr. Hollins and I are doing a short presentation based on the work of Derald Wing Sue on Racial Microaggressions tomorrow morning (for examples of many types of microaggressions check this out). We're starting by sharing our Where I'm From poems, and speaking to how our different experiences shape the way we interpret events and interactions. Some interactions trigger us or become a "hot button" as they repeatedly happen to us, those we love, or those with whom we share a group identity. These triggers are related to a history and current context that reinforces privilege and oppression.

For example, if someone refers to me as a "girl" I can hear my mothers voice saying, "I'm not a girl, I'm a woman," can hear the kids in elementary school taunting, "Earl is a girrrul," (sexism as a weapon of homophobia) and think about the times women's voices have been dismissed as childish. When I react to that comment, I'm reacting to more than just one person saying one thing. I'm reacting to the history of the term combined with any sexism I've recently experienced.

When we present on racial microaggressions, we want people to understand that this is not about memorizing a list of what you should or shouldn't say. It is not about being "politically correct"--which is actually one of my hot buttons. It is about growing our understanding of the patterns and context of what we might otherwise see as individual behaviors. It is about recognizing how our individual behaviors and relationships contribute to institutional racism and white privilege.

Even using the term "hot button" can be problematic (although it is catchy for our buttons). It implies that the person reacting to the microaggression is the one who has the issue, rather than the person who said it or the system of racial oppression that is really the issue. I like to refer to this as the "racism gets your goat" perspective, the microinvalidation that you're overreacting to something minor.

Tomorrow we'll ask people to share their triggers or hot buttons. What are yours? We'll also ask them to be brave and share when they've said or done something that was a microaggression. Can you think of a time when you committed a microaggression? What did you learn from that experience?

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Norms for Anti-Racism Work: Experience Discomfort

"Is your comfort more important than someone else's pain?" -Author Unknown

I went to a training on Generational Diversity recently. It was interesting, but I realized after the 3 hours session that there was not a single point at which I'd had to look at myself or the world in a new way that made me uncomfortable. That's my measure of whether or not deep change work is happening. Simply talking about differences in cultural styles will not change institutionalized privilege.

It is not comfortable to admit I've had unearned privileges because of the color of my skin, my physical abilities, or other factors. It is not comfortable to admit that through systemic intentional and unintentional socialization I've come to internalize whiteness as superior. It is not comfortable for people of color to confront internalized racial oppression. But it is a part of the path to collective liberation.

Dr. Hollins and I pride ourselves on providing a safe place for people to enter into discussions about privilege and racism, but safe is not the same as comfortable. When I bring this up with friends or in an organization, it doesn't feel comfortable or easy. It can, and has, led to the loss of relationships or jobs.

An acquaintance of mine was playing a video game one time and yelled, "This game is so gay!" At that point I felt very uncomfortable. I realized that if I spoke up, it would create tension in our relationship. Then I thought, "Why should I be the only one feeling discomfort? He made the comment. He should be experiencing a bit of this discomfort, too!" The conversation did not end with us going out dancing at a gay bar, but it did end with my feeling true to myself.

There are certainly times when it is literally not safe to confront racism, sexism, heterosexism, or other forms of oppression. However, there are many times when we remain silent in an effort to keep offenders comfortable. When I am silent in the face of oppression, that indicates agreement.

The question I continually repeat is , "Whose interests are being served?"