The Fierce Courage and Love to Stand for Justice

This is a keynote I wrote for Peninsula High School's Martin Luther King, Jr. Day Assembly on January 13th, 2012. Thanks to my many friends who contributed thoughts on what they wished they'd heard in high school, to Yarrow for the title idea, and to Caprice for her notes and ideas from similar presentations.

 







I've been an activist for social and environmental justice for most of my life. When I was 7 years old, my mom took me to my first Take Back the Night march to protest violence against women. When I was in high school in 1992, Buck Ghost Horse, a Lakota man I had been learning from, told me about a march, rally and protest commemorating the 500 year anniversary of Columbus Day. This was an event to highlight indigenous perspectives on Columbus, which, as you can imagine are quite different than mainstream European American ideas.

Because we didn't get Columbus Day off of school, I went to all of my teachers to tell them I would be skipping the next day of class to go to this event. Most of them thought it was a great opportunity, but I remember my Physics teacher looking at me and asking, "Do you really think this is more important than Physics class?" Now, that's not really a question. what does a teacher really mean when when they say, "Do you really think you want to be doing that right now?"

I gave him an answer he wasn't expecting, "Yes, I do think this is more important." I went to the protest and I still remember what I learned on that day, many of the speakers changed how I see the world and who I am.

I hope today to share some ideas that are different from your usual lessons in school and will inspire you to think about who you are and who you can be in the world.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. spoke, “The hope of a secure and livable world lies with disciplined nonconformists who are dedicated to justice, peace and brotherhood.”

How many of you make New Year's resolutions? Every New Year I make several resolutions that I don’t tell anyone so when I don’t follow-through, I can tell myself it wasn’t really something I “resolved” to do, more of a hope or aspiration. This year I’m going to exercise more, learn to speak Spanish, get more involved in political activism and a half dozen other things that I’m not going to tell you on the off-chance you should see me next December and ask how it’s going.

However, as silly as a New Year’s resolution might seem, when we say it out loud to someone else, it becomes a commitment to which they are holding us accountable. There is power in committing ourselves to change for the better, especially when we make that decision together. And that can happen any time of year if we choose to make it happen and stick with it.

Today you have a choice. It is a new year and you have the power to not only transform yourself, but to transform your school community. I’m here to encourage you to make that community based on principles of justice. One where you stand together against prejudice, no matter what form it takes. As Dr. King called it, “the beloved community.” Think about what that would look and feel like as I share a few ideas with you today for how to make it happen.

Malcolm X spoke: “I’m for truth, no matter who tells it. I’m for justice, no matter who it is for or against. I’m a human being, first and foremost, and as such, I’m for whoever and whatever benefits humanity as a whole.”

Although many of you may agree with this statement, one of the tricky things about prejudice or oppression is that you might not even recognize when it’s happening to someone. For example, if you were born without a disability, you likely don’t spend much time thinking about stairs, or sign language interpretation, or being able to read the restroom sign, or how it might be particularly painful to hear someone say, “that’s retarded”.

Even when we want to treat others with dignity and respect, we might not realize the negative impact of an off-hand comment. One of the first steps in confronting racism, sexism, homophobia, or ableism is recognizing we all have our own biases and stereotypes. They are frequently something we’ve learned from others and not given a lot of thought. This is nothing to be ashamed of, but it is something to take responsibility for.

We can do that by listening and believing people who are experiencing the particular form of prejudice they're talking about. For example, I have a friend with Down's Syndrome. He pointed out hearing the word retarded used to refer to someone or something, brought up a slew of painful memories and recent experiences. Even though it might feel to you at first like they’re “being too sensitive”, it is quite likely they understand this form of prejudice better than you because of their experiences.

We all have blind spots to our subtle, unearned advantages or privileges. One of the ways to tell when you have a privilege is noticing the areas where you are considered normal while "others" are named. We have left-handed scissors, but no right-handed scissors. We have a WNBA but not an MNBA. Here are a few of my favorite examples of this pointed out originally here in the blog Sociological Images.

As a white person, I never noticed that band-aids, crayons and clothing labeled “flesh” were actually designed to look, at least somewhat, like my skin color. I was taught to be colorblind, which really meant I was taught to think being white was normal and pretend I didn’t notice the rich cultural differences of people. As if noticing these differences would mean we couldn’t get along with one another. It wasn’t until an African American friend pointed out the “flesh tone phenomenon”, that I began paying attention.

If you have the privilege of not facing discrimination for your identity, it is even more important to speak up. I was getting an A in a college math class where the teacher wasn’t explaining concepts clearly and gave tests on material she hadn’t taught. Most of the students were in the C-F range and what usually happens in this situation is the teacher blames them for not working hard enough or they blame themselves for ‘just not being good at math’. However, we recognized there was a problem with the instruction, so I went to talk with the teacher about our concerns. Because I was doing well in the class, it didn’t look like I was just worried about my own grade.

In the same way, if you are able bodied, or straight, or male, or white or wealthy, you are in a unique position to use those privileges to stand with other people for all of our rights. In fact, many people whose voices are silenced in high school are counting on you.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. spoke, “On some positions, Cowardice asks the question, "Is it safe?" Expediency asks the question, "Is it politic?" And Vanity comes along and asks the question, "Is it popular?" But Conscience asks the question "Is it right?" And there comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but he must do it because Conscience tells him it is right.”

Once you’re noticing prejudice, the next step is deciding when and how to act. Sometimes, when you’re not a member of a group facing bias, you may not stand up for others because you’re afraid of what will happen to you. If I hear someone being teased for “acting gay” and I tell the perpetrator to stop, will the teasing then focus on me?

Understand that oppression hurts everyone in different ways. For example, even if you are not directly targeted by homophobic comments your freedom to express yourself, in the way you act or don’t act "manly" enough, in the way you dress, in the way you speak, in the way you dance, is limited. Your right to an environment that welcomes all forms of human expression is controlled, possibly with the threat of violence.

My mom was holding hands and walking with a female friend of hers when a man walked by and literally checked her shoulder. She was surprised and confused by his obviously intentional aggression, so she asked her friend, "Did we do something wrong?"

Her friend replied, "Only if you think two women holding hands is wrong. He thought we were lesbians."

What kind of world do we live in where two women in their fifties can't show public affection for one another without facing a violent response? Oppression hurts everyone.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. spoke, “Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter."

If you stand aside quietly, your consent is implied. It is only when you find the fierce courage to speak up, that you will realize how many will stand with you. We usually hear about peer pressure as a negative thing. However, peer pressure can be a powerful force to improve the culture of your community.

Now let’s talk about how you’re going to make that change together!

(Note: The next section is adapted from Responding to Everyday Bigotry: Speak Up! http://www.shepherd.edu/alliesweb/resources/speak_up.pdf)
Find an Ally/Be an Ally

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. spoke, “It really boils down to this: that all life is interrelated. We are all caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tired into a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one destiny, affects all indirectly.”

Connect with a few friends who share your concerns. Join the Gay Student Alliance or Diversity Club and invite others to join. Together, you can make a plan and be ready. Choose one small step you want to take first. This will allow you to build momentum as you experience small wins.

If it doesn’t go so well the first time, you’ll have supporters to talk to and revise your plan. Know you will get another chance.

Identify the Behavior Rather than Labeling the Person

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. spoke, “Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars... Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.”

People don’t often think of love as a fierce tactic for justice. When I was in 4th grade, there was a 2nd grade boy in the neighborhood who used to beat up and tease all of the smaller kids. So I took it upon myself, in a most self-righteous way, to beat him up and teach him a lesson about how it feels. That didn’t really change his behavior.

I wonder now, what did he really need? Was he being hurt by adults in his life and trying to find a way to regain some power and control by acting out the same behaviors? He probably needed a friend. Someone he could talk and play with. He probably needed to laugh a little more and hurt a little less. Rather than my fists, he needed love fierce enough to hold his pain.

If you are attacking someone for making a biased comment by calling her names, she is not likely to say, “Oh, you’re right, I was being a total B. I’m so glad you pointed that out!” Even worse, we tend to rely on names that perpetuate oppression because of the additional hurt they cause. When a female student from UCLA posted a rant about Asians in the library, many of the responses referred to her as a dumb blond, using stereotypes of women to discredit her.

Instead, name the behavior. What exactly did the person say or do that was offensive? You don’t have to have a quick or witty response. You don’t have to justify yourself. Try asking a question such as, “What did you mean when you said that thing that started with, I’m not racist but, …?”

It is easy to go on the defensive or attack mode. It is easy to walk away and tell someone else what an idiot so and so is. It is much harder to love enough to engage a person who’s offended you in a conversation.
 
Set Limits

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. spoke, “We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.”

Sometimes, the best you can do is set limits. I don’t allow my friends to tell racist jokes around me. I know they may tell those jokes in other places, but I have the right to create that boundary in my environment. They may judge me, think I need to lighten up, but I know that even when they tell the joke and I’m not around, they’re thinking about what I said.

I love them, know they can change, and also recognize their change will not happen simply because I want it to. It will happen because they want it to. In the meantime, I do have the power to ask them to stop or to walk away.

Martin Luther King, Jr. spoke: “I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. That is why right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant.”

Ultimately, I’m talking about aligning what you believe in with how you behave and collectively creating a community where all flourish. If you believe in love, compassion, and treating people how they want to be treated, make that evident by noticing differences and believing people's experiences. If you believe in principles of equity, you can take small steps every day to stand against injustice. If you believe your school community should support liberty and justice for all, you must find the fierce courage and love to speak out.

And in this struggle, know you are not alone. You are standing on the foundation laid by people throughout history who have risked their lives for all of humanity. Some, like Dr. King, you already know about. But you’ll likely never know the names of the millions of heroes and sheroes just like you, in high schools all over the world, who chose to join the fight to create better, more equitable environments. You can be a part of a legacy of justice seekers.

Think about one thing you could do to stand up against bias. Take a moment now, and think about your choice. Will you stand for justice? And once you’ve made your decision, your resolution, I’m going to ask you to do something to make you accountable to your peers. Raise your hand, raise your fist, raise your thumb if you're shy, or stand up if you choose to find the fierce courage and love to stand for justice.

Look around and see who is with you. Today, right now, you can transform your community.

Stereotypes, Costumes and Resistance

Ah, fall. The leaves shine colorfully in the rain before they're blown off by gusts of wind. Days turn swiftly to night. And racial stereotypes abound. Between Halloween, Thanksgiving and the usual ill-conceived party or auction theme, fall really tis the season of cultural appropriation and stereotyping.

It is this time of year that blogs such as Native Appropriations and Sociological Images annually post about racist costumes. This year, the student organization STARS at Ohio University came up with a campaign using the slogan, "We're a Culture, Not a Costume".

Yet still these costumes are everywhere. Sadly, I even saw a young white girl of about six years old in Fremont (a mostly white, traditionally artsy community in Seattle) dressed as an "Indian Princess". No, we are not going to simply evolve to a higher level of racial cognizance, and yes, that stereotype still causes damage.

How does a person respond when told their costume is inappropriate or harmful? How do party planners react when confronted by folks unhappy with their "Poc a hot ass" (unfortunately, I'm not making up that title) Native costume theme party? Predictably, when the racist nature of dressing as a caricature of a culture is called out, many get defensive. Here are a few of the common responses I've heard or read recently and my critique. (Note: These are not exact quotes, merely summaries from several dialogues.)

1. "My Latino friends don't care if I wear a donkey in a sombrero costume. They didn't say anything about it and many of them thought it was funny!"

This hearkens back to the old, "My best friend is black, I can't be racist," argument. It is problematic in that it puts the burden of responsibility for naming racism squarely on the shoulders of a few individuals. If these individuals are in a place of denial in their own racial identity development, they may, in fact, have no problem with the costume.

When we look to a few individuals to represent the perspectives of the whole, to carry the gavel which determines racist or not, that, in itself, perpetuates racism. Part of white privilege is being able to pick and choose which people of color we listen to and whose voices we dismiss in order to justify our actions. We see them as a group, while still insisting we be seen as individuals. In addition, the personal response is elevated above the social, political and historical context of institutional racism. So when a friend sanctions racist behavior, we don't feel the need to learn more about why someone else might disagree.

Another reason this response is inappropriate and harmful is that it fails to consider why your Latino friends may not tell you they don't care for that fake mustache and Speedy Gonzalez imitation. I know I've avoided conversations with friends, especially close ones, when I knew it would strain the relationship (ironically, avoiding the conversation still strains the relationship, only the other person isn't aware).

Not to mention the chore of trying to prove why something is racist. Too often, the burden of proof ends up on the shoulders of the person offended, rather than the one causing the offense. For people of color, this leads to all too common conversations where their perspectives are dismissed because the white cultural norms tell us we don't have to consider "another country", as written about by Baldwin and many others.

So maybe your friend just wasn't up for that conversation at the Halloween party. Can you blame him? Did you really want to learn from him anyway? 

2. "I didn't intend to offend anyone. I'm a good person and those who know me know I wasn't trying to be racist with my feathered headdress and ass-less brown leather chaps."

First, go back and read my post on intention vs. impact. 

This response is deeply rooted in the idea that racism is about perpetrators and victims. It is about bad people doing bad things. Therefore, if you're a good person, you can't be racist. This is tied to American individualism and the desire to see all of our actions as singularly personal, rather than connected to a group identity.

But racism is much more than that. The everyday, subtle (and not-so-subtle) advantages I have because of my white skin, such as not being asked to represent all members of my race as in the first example, are not a result of my individual actions. Whether I act in ways that are positive, negative, neutral or somewhere in between does not change the institutional context of those actions.

This also brings up the problem of a dichotomizing perspective. We tend to rank people and actions as good, bad or somewhere in between. This is reinforced by popular notions such as heaven and hell and foreign policy that says, "You're with us or against us." Of course racism falls into the bad category.

Seeing people as essentially good or evil doesn't take into account that everyone of us has done things we regret. Maybe we knew at the time our actions would have negative consequences or maybe we were totally oblivious until later reflection. In this case, people can't bring themselves to consider they might be having a negative impact when smoking the fake "peace pipe" at a party because that would mean they are racist, ie. bad.

I don't have to know you personally to know your outfit is offensive. What we have to understand is the larger group context of our individual behaviors and how this is connected to historical and current oppression. Which brings me to number three.

3. "Oh get over it. The Shanghai Nights theme party is just for fun. We're honoring Asian culture. Besides, my interpretation of the Geisha and these lanterns are works of art. Do you want to censor all art work?"

Okay, no, I don't want to censor all artwork. Just the kind that perpetuates stereotypical notions of people and places that oversimplify and even poke fun at cultural identities. Yes, I guess I don't have a sense of humor about this. Perhaps you should consider what is so funny about seeing people react to racist statements? Are you laughing at or with me? Perhaps you should question why, with so many other possible ways of expressing your artistic side, you are relying on cliche and stereotype?

I admit it, that's what I want to yell at people sometimes.

The idea that we can just shrug off stereotypes is a popular one. I remember doing an activity in college where we were supposed to look at pictures of different people and say what assumptions we made about them. It was obvious they wanted us to name some stereotypes and everyone went out of their way to say how they didn't assume anything about the people pictured. "That black guy with his shirt off? Could be an executive at a poolside. Who's to say? I certainly don't see him as dangerous."

Although we were aware of the stereotypes, none of us felt like we made judgments based on those. Jeez, we weren't a bunch of racists or anything. This is how most of us want to see ourselves. We like to believe we treat each other fairly and are in control of our own behaviors.

I start a workshop by asking people to, "Raise your hand if you've ever done worse on a test because of a stereotype about your lack of ability." Almost everyone keeps their hands down, no matter what the racial make-up of the group.

Then I ask, "Raise your hand if you're aware of the stereotypes about your identities, but don't let them influence you," and I get the exact opposite reaction. Almost every hand in the room goes up.

But research by Claude Steele, Joshua Aronson and many others has shown we're wrong about both of those questions. Performance on math tests of girls as young as 8 years has been linked to the stereotype about female math intelligence. White college students are more likely than black students to ask for help, work in groups, or drop a tough class to take later when they have a lighter work load. The black students respond to the stereotype about their lack of ability by trying to not appear to need help. This is compounded in situations where someone is a numerical minority. So an individual white man on an all-black basketball team faces greater threat of confirming the stereotype that white men can't jump, because he alone represents the group. The research is extensive and compelling.

Stereotypes impact all of us. In fact, the more we care about a subject and disproving the stereotype, the more our brains will focus on it and the worse we'll perform. So even while we may think we're "getting over it," we're not.

And when we insist that people should just laugh it off when we pull our eyes back and talk in broken English, we're literally asking the impossible.

So now I can hear some of my dear friends saying, "Well, what do you expect me to do? It seems like I can't say anything without offending someone."

Thanks for asking! I do have some ideas.

1. Do your best to find out more about stereotypes and cultural appropriation. Read some blogs. Pick up Claude Steele's book. Find out more about the different experiences of oppression for different people of color in the United States. Start with Andrea Smith's model of the Three Pilars of White Supremacy. Come to a Cultures Connecting workshop. In other words, take some time and engage in some self-education so you can minimize those cringey moments when you unintentionally hurt someone. This will give you something to think about on those long winter nights.

2. Accept the fact that you will do or say something that shows you have biases, just like anyone else. When this happens, admit you made a mistake. Stop and really listen if someone is kind enough to explain why what you wore was problematic. Continue to put yourself in situations where you will be challenged to learn more.

3. Engage in anti-oppression work. If you're in Seattle, connect with an organization such as the Coalition of Anti-Racist Whites or El Comite. There are a large number of organizations working for change and they could use your artistic, fundraising, creative ideas.

We'd all be better off if we spent less time during these blustery fall days trying to prove how we're not racist and more time working to end institutional racism.

Norm for Anti-Racist Activism: Stay Engaged and Expect Non-Closure

How many of us start trying to find ways to mediate or show the commonalities in our beliefs when witnessing racial conflict between people or disagreeing with someone ourselves? How many are willing to stay engaged and understand the root of the disagreement?

How many of us have ended a conversation, only to go to someone else we knew would agree with us and talk about why the other person was wrong? How many are willing to challenge ourselves and our friends to consider we might be the one's who need to change?

Racism and White privilege is carefully crafted and constantly changing form. In order to address it, we must stay engaged with the knowledge that we may not see closure.

Today we are seeing the biggest wealth gap between Black & Latina/o and White people since this data began being reported in 1984. With all of the hard work, pain, even death people have experienced trying to dismantle racism in the past, it is no surprise that many feel disheartened.

At the same time, I still hear people (mostly White, but not all) in workshops talking about how racism is something we worked through and no longer exists. It is as if acknowledging the reality would mean they were racist. Or maybe it is just that confronting the truth means they have to see their world in a different way and question their silent complacency.

We have to find new ways to honestly connect, build coalitions, look deeply at ourselves, and continue despite the obstacles. We need passion and willingness to engage one another and recognize and address systemic issues.

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.

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?

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?"

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