Race Matters: “On the anniversary of George Floyd’s death, how do you stay hopeful?”

Welcome to the end Race Themes advice column, featuring the wonderful Christine Pride. Today marks the death of George Floyd: May 25, 2020. When we look back at the last year, how far have we come? How much has the country grown? Nowadays, a reader wonders if he is hopeful in these difficult times …

Important races:

On the anniversary of George Floyd’s death, I can’t help but wonder where the country is in terms of race. It was reassuring when Derek Chauvin, a former Minneapolis police officer, was found guilty of the murder of Floyd. But what happens next? How can we bring about meaningful and lasting change? This would involve tackling how to police black and brown communities; how we educate black and brown students; how we create jobs for people. In short, can we create prosperous neighborhoods so that everyone has the same opportunity to participate in the American dream?

That goal, at this particular moment, feels more challenging than ever.

As a 56-year-old black woman, I’m not at all misled by the problem of American racing, but I’ve always been a kind of half-full-glass person and I try to be positive. But a year after the assassination of George Floyd, I fear that our country has stopped trying to calculate by race. After all the protests and hashtags and talking about training for diversity and inclusion, I am concerned that we are losing that progress towards institutional and systemic change. What advice do you have for a tired traveler who wants to stay in a fight that is desperately positive and hopeful?

Signed, Sick and Tired

Sick and tired dear:

I am grateful to have been signed by gesturing to the activist’s immortal words Fannie Lou Hamer: “I’m sick and tired.” How come we haven’t gotten tired after a year? It reminds us that the capacity for human resilience is remarkable. Although we may be disabled as a result of police violence, COVID, economic strife, intense national elections, and the general fear of getting out of control, we are here, getting up every morning and putting on our clothes, beaking. eat some food, and hopefully on a good day, find enough flash of joy to call everything a mermaid again tomorrow.

I think our first step is to acknowledge fatigue. It’s good that we’re not doing well. Emotional fatigue and the cynicism that comes with it is not the character’s fault. Often, women, and especially black women, are not given the time, space, or permission to sit and be in feelings. Yes, there are ways to defend the right to vote, and to feed the children and pay the wages, but all of that will still be there if we take a moment to lower the burden and rest our arms; wash our eyebrows and say: woo wee, this shit is impossible.

So I want to start with some counterintuitive advice: really sit down with those feelings, trying to move on. It’s hard to do that, I’ll admit, because I’m also a glass and a half optimistic about life and the race. I recognize that optimism is a form of privilege, a byproduct of the luck and success I have had in my life. I have a career that I love, I have a home, I have savings to take on emergencies. But I’m more hyper-conscious than the rule, that I’m an exception. To say: Only 44% of black people own a home compared to 74% of whites; the median wealth of white Americans is $ 142,000, compared to $ 24,100 for black Americans. Black employees earn 15% less than our white members. Beyond the economy, blacks die from gun violence … or pregnancy complications or cancer or diabetes or COVID die. I could go on with more crushing statistics. How easy it was for too many people to stray and rationalize from these serious inequalities, with the false belief that they must be the result of cultural deficits or personal shortcomings, rather than face the harsh reality: the system was designed specifically from the beginning to prevent them from entering into equality and then to blame them for it.

That’s why I hate the idea that people can point to racism as an example of what we should be overdoing, LOOK! in these successful black people. It is a dangerous “exceptional” myth that ignores the horrific reality of oppressive inequality systems that prevent hundreds of thousands of BIPOCs in this country and have equal opportunities.

After all, how easy can a different story be. If I lived in another town, I would be Breonna Taylor; if I were to take a road trip on some back roads one summer day, I might be Sandra Bland; If I had decided to have kids I would have been Lucy McBath. And on and on. I am constantly realizing that my life as a black woman is a very long one there but I go for the grace of God state.

This is the weight I felt last year, as I’m sure of you too – it’s a great recognition of all the way the world is dangerous, unfair and undervalued for the people who look our way. This is the weight I felt when I cried at George Flyod’s funeral last summer, and I sent sensible messages to white friends who wouldn’t know what it’s like to be black in America while I had a painful career. a situation with disruptive implications of race.

All of this also made him feel helpless. For, if a thing has become crystal clear, it is the whites who have dismantled it since they built this system, even though they may feel so far removed from the harmful effects; even when it could come at a cost. There seemed to be a push on that front, right? Protests, marches and education; I was receiving those thoughtful texts and emails; The main collective cry called “This must be stopped”.

But looking back, a year later, you ask a profound question in everyone’s mind: have we stopped our great awakening from our race? Did we make any noticeable progress? In the coming months there will be a million thoughts that will explore these questions. And I will leave it to sociologists, economists, and journalists to try to classify that. From a personal point of view, however, in many ways, I say yes. One measure of this is that people (including readers of the Race Matters column) seem to intend to grasp the difficulties of the racist system. I think people have begun to understand that white dominance is not a personal failure, but a deeply embedded organization. I’ve seen more people critically think about austerity cuts, serious differences in the criminal justice system, police violence, attempts to remove voter rights, and so on. And whites are also more aware of their capacity for bias, defense, and fragility. Consciousness is half the battle.

But the next most important step, of course, is action. Here, too, I have seen some gratifying steps. For example, the publishing industry’s efforts to recruit more people to BIPOC. I know this is a unique industry, but given its role in elevating story and ideas and deciding who has the voice and platform, it has an undue impact on shaping our own culture and is therefore a white dominance of it.

Progress doesn’t feel as fast as ever, does it? But that doesn’t mean we give up. We can’t; we have no choice but to move forward, to endure, and to strive; these are, in themselves, acts of resistance.

So in view of all this, what are my recommendations for a tired traveler?

Receive the positive. We see all the negative news; it is liberating to notice a tariff that “feels good” that affirms the goodness of humanity. Sometimes we don’t pay positive attention because it seems like police, or if we dare to slip the slippery slope for a break from pressure fights for a moment, but we need these stories as fuel and balm. Consider continuing The Good News Movement or For them Instagram. Poetry also offers this – This poem by Margaret Walker it never fails to lift me up.

Do something. We can all be there to pay more attention to the power we have and the power we don’t have. Volunteering, donating, supporting artists and activists. That matters and gives us a sense of agency. Small actions add up.

Have a tough conversation. One thing I’ve noticed is that we don’t talk enough at work at race, at school, with family, or with friends. (And so this column!) This is not ** people of color ** talking to whites, but white is talking to other whites. Racial clarity is not a quiet journey to improve oneself. It is dynamic, interactive and confusing. A good saying is this: see something, say something. We need to be brave enough to call people when we hear horrible opinions and share our experiences and perspectives, even when it’s hard or uncomfortable.

Remember that hope is a muscle. It’s as easy as despair to sit on the couch and eat french fries. Hope is the race you do to get your blood pumping. Remember that hope is not what comes to you, it is decision and action.

Beyond that, I have an image in my head; it has been linked to the many slave narratives I have read and perhaps the traces that appear in my DNA. A woman who works as a slave in a cotton field in Alabama with a newborn tied to her back. Her circumstances are horribly harsh and there is no reason why her child will come out better than the life of cruelty and bad conditions. And yet, it does. She imagines a world where her children are free, can marry whoever they want, earn a living, have a voice and a say in their lives. It is a brave dream. And yet, if he saw the world today, he would be amazed. For all its flaws, it is the world where these desires came true.

Then another picture: 100 years later. My grandparents are trying to rent the house so the landlord doesn’t have to rent it out to “me ** ers”. I see them moving away from that encounter, dreaming of a day when their dreaming future children and grandchildren would be protected by the Housing Fair Act, who would be able to get a solid mortgage and have a home. He would have the right to vote in order to ensure the fairness of these laws. They lived to see that.

And another: this is foggy, a whisper really … 30 years, 50 or 100 years from now, when we too can discern in the best possible way the world that is unknown to us.

This imaginary triptych for my mind tells the story of progress and strength, and brings me comfort. It reminds me that real change is a long game, and so is hope.

So calm, sick and tired, for the trip yes long. Have faith, for the way goes to the sun. Cheer up, because your fellow travelers are here with you.

Calm down, George Floyd.

xChristine

Christine Pride he is a writer, book editor and content consultant. First novel, We are not like them, Written with Jo Piazza, will be published by Atria in the fall of 2021. He lives in Harlem, New York. Feel free to send an email with your questions to racematters@cupofjo.com or connect with him on Instagram @ pride.

PS More race theme columns, and I want to tell my white friends five things.

(Portrait of Christine Pride Christine Han.)