WHAT DOES ENTITLEMENT LOOK LIKE? - 060217

In this day and age of escalating racial tensions, the issue of ENTITLEMENT has become a hot-button topic in my social-circles: what it looks like 'in action' and how the effects of entitlement, if gone unacknowledged and unchecked can oppress others and their their right to exist and take up space...free and unfettered.

Well folks - i'm here to tell ya!  Entitlement looks like this: a “cuddle puddle” of 4, perhaps 5 people physically encroaching upon another human being’s personal space, with complete abandon and total disregard.

Tonight at Ecstatic Dance, I had the opportunity to be on the receiving end of this obnoxious display of entitlement.  What started out as one woman sitting cross-legged on the mat in front of me (there are several mats off to the side of the dance floor for people to hang out, do yoga, simply rest.  They are soft mats, approximately 3'x3' that jigsaw together, creating convenient boundary lines) ended up being two men and at least two, maybe three woman sprawled out on 3 or 4 of these mats, writhing and grinding their bodies into each other…with, as I mentioned before, total abandon and absolute disregard for the human being (me) occupying the space presently, and also prior to their arrival.  I guess in practice, possession isn’t really 9/10 of the law after all.  

And don’t get me wrong, I take no issue with their writhing and grinding, and overall freedom of sexual expression, I’m not a prude for heaven sakes, and this ain’t my first rodeo, you understand.  Hell, i really wouldn't mind finding myself in a cuddle puddle some day.  But, in addition to the perimeter between my physical body and their physical bodies getting smaller and smaller, I was kicked at least three or four good times.  Without as much as an acknowledgement, let alone an apology, that there had been unintended physical contact.  It actually "felt" like they were trying to kick me out of their way!  Perhaps they were.  

Because…well, because entitlement.   Which in practice means that the space is theirs to do with, play with, hoard in whatever fashion they see fit.  If you just happen to get in the way of all of their entitlement, well, move out of the way, FFS! 

You know, consent is a funny thing.  And it’s a big and consistent topic at Ecstatic Dance.  The conversations typically center around getting consent before engaging in dance with another person.  And most certainly before any kind of physical touch.  

But what about consent when it comes to sharing another’s personal space?  And sure, we all have different ideas about how wide of a space constitutes an appropriate amount of personal space (I have a friend who needs a great big bubble of space between his body and others) but we can all agree that there indeed exists this thing called personal space.  And if we can all agree that this exists, then we can also agree that this personal space can be violated.  

And its one thing to violate someone else's personal space by accident.  This type of situation happens often, with or without our knowing whether we have, but when we know that we have, as when we accidentally kick someone who is sitting in their personal space, this violation is easily remedied by an acknowledgement and an apology.   But what happened at Ecstatic Dance was a repeated and ongoing violation of my personal space - if not intentionally, at the very least, carelessly. 

The 4 or 5 folks who violated my personal space last night happened to be white (well, they didn’t just happen to be white, Ecstatic Dance Oakland is probably 85 – 90% white, so it’s more than likely that a majority of these violations are perpetrated by white people). 

Oh hell, who am I kidding, with my badly veiled attempt at “political correctness”:  These violations - and there have been several - have ALL been perpetrated by white people.  Never have I ever experienced an incident in my entire LIFETIME where a black person accidentally violated my personal space and didn’t acknowledge it.  Ok, maybe from the young ppl...but young ppl. are - in a word - obnoxious.  It's been MY experience that Black People don’t tolerate that type of b.s.  Stay in your lane, mkay?  STAY.IN.YOUR.LANE.  And – if you happen to veer out of your lane and into my lane, well - you better recognize.     

I would suspect that perhaps the history of ongoing violation – of all kinds, not just physical, experienced by black people in this country has trained/programmed our DNA (among other things, such as emotions) to be specifically sensitive and averse to breaches of personal space, even the most minor of experiences, such as being rendered invisible and then repeatedly kicked.

  

Which is why I am so keen on bringing movement medicine (specifically, free-form dance) to my black and brown communities here in Oakland.  And this idea both excites and terrifies me.  What if this idea is rejected? Or worse, what if I am rejected – for the umpteenth time in my life – by my brown and black communities?  I mean lets face facts, bi-racial folks often find themselves tip-towing between two very different worlds, feeling a part of neither.  At least, this has been my experience.  And yet, what if this idea is not rejected, what if it’s embraced - think of what kind of healing could take place in ALL of our extended communities!

To be honest, my idea is not really "my" idea: black and brown people have “always” embraced and practiced movement medicine – typically some form o dance – as an integral part of their culture…one of the important links to their ancestors that was stripped away from them with the forced deportation across the Atlantic ocean. 

“Sankofa” is a word from the Twi language of Ghana (there is a very good possibility that my birth-father’s roots are from Ghana) that means to “Go back and fetch it”, and this is the concept I am working with right now.  I also just learned (thanks Wikipedia!) this: “Sankofa is often associated with the proverb, ‘Se wo were fi na wosankofa a yenkyi’ which translates as: ‘It is not wrong to go back for that which you have forgotten.’”

SANKOFA

Reclaiming what is our birthright.  Reclaiming an integral part of our connection to ourselves, to this planet and to each other.  Reclaiming the JOY and absolute ecstasy that is possible when we are completely free and at ease in or bodies, expressing the music through our bodies. 

So - I know what you’re thinking: “Well? Did you say anything to these people?” No, I didn’t.  Indeed I thought about it, several times during that long 20 minute sit, but in addition to loud music potentially drowning me out, this cuddle puddle was so involved in its own physical experience, any noise from me would most certainly have gone unnoticed, or more likely, fallen on deaf ears.  Or even worse, I might have been *marked* as a deviant; an outsider, and “ostracized” by the group, because I just can’t get with their “sharing space” concept. and take up space.  Not to mention, i love confrontations as much as i love cleaning my bathtub. Or my toilet. Or getting my annual pap smear. 

Which I can, it’s just that, well, my definition of sharing space includes a very important clause for respecting personal space.  In fact, this is probably the MOST IMPORTANT clause in my definition of what it means to share space with others.  

And if i'm wrong in wanting to, in needing to protect the sacredness of my personal space, i don't wann be right.

SANKOFA

WTF is WRONG with you (young) people?!?

I began this piece starting with the title (after receiving a particularly distasteful text from a potential suitor), in which "you people" referred specifically to men, and even more specifically, to those men who don't seem to have a very firm grasp on appropriate and inappropriate courtship rituals.  But after talking with a good friend about the incident and hearing her perspective that men are doing the things they are doing because women are responding to them, it occurred to me that perhaps it's the whole entire younger generation that has gone stark-raving looney-tunes when it comes to courtship, turning our modern day dating scene into a vast wasteland of over-promised debauchery and under-delivered authenticity. 

The other day, I was quietly recovering from septum repair surgery, with ample time to peruse the various dating apps, and I ran into a lovely looking young man, 33 tinder/tender years of age.  For the record, I had finally taken that gigantic leap of faith into lying about my age – actually since turning 49 less than a month ago, because it really does seems as though the field of potential online mates thins rather rapidly in your late 40's.  I had been experiencing this thinning out since turning 47, freshly back on the single scene, and slowly coming to the depressing realization that I had, rather abruptly (to me, at least) become “older woman” age on dating sites.  

 

Anyway, the only reason I lied was to be able to have a fighting chance to connect with a potential someone whom I could then inform of my actual age, and the reason for my slight deception. 

Which I had almost the immediate opportunity to do when, after slashing 10 years off my age, I went Tinder-fishing and caught two eager fish with my brand-new 39 year old profile! 

When I confessed my deception to suitor #1, he was quick to inform me that “At least 70% of ppl. lie about their age on dating apps, and I knew you were in your 40’s anyway.” 

To which I responded, “Well that’s not the most flattering thing to say to a woman…that you look OLDER than the age you are representing yourself to be.”  To which he replied, “I'm sorry, I hope I didn’t offend you…” To which I replied, “You didn’t offend me, I’m just noting here for you that it’s not very flattering.”  To which he did reply, but I didn’t answer quickly enough, because during my lull, he unmatched me.

And, after dispatching with this folly fairly quickly, another match appeared, and I immediately informed him of my age, which he indicated was not a problem for him.  He also told me that he lived in Davis and was in town visiting friends, and that he was thinking about moving to either the east bay or San Diego.

Seems harmless, I thought.  At the worst, we connect and don’t vibe at all; at best, I meet the love of my life, who just happens to live in Davis right now, but would move to the Bay if given the right incentive (me).  So, off we went, making plans about meeting up:

Me: I can meet as early as Friday, so when will u be in Oakland again?

He: I’m leaving today.  I was going to delay if you wanted to meet later.

(I think here is the moment I sensed things were veering in an unintended direction…)

He: I was planning on leaving tonight at 8 but if you want to meet for a bit, I will leave at 10 instead.

(me lying in bed with my head propped up with three pillows to reduce swelling and splints stuck up my nostrils)

And he went on:

He: I can tell you all about me in person and get to know you.  If you are in my area, we can meet in Davis next time.  

(me thinking why the f#ck would I be in Davis?!?) 

And then suddenly, out of nowhere:

He: I want to kiss you and your neck down slowly to your body and kiss your body (sic).  Then pick you up and lay you down in the bed and lift your left leg and kiss you from the ankle down to your wet pussy

Quickly followed up by:

He: Oops, probably too much.  Not sure if you like it? (winky smiley face) ha-ha. 

I literally caught myself pulling the phone away from my face, and looking at it, in sheer HORROR, as if the phone itself had just assaulted me.  

I mean… how did he mistake me for a hooker?!?

Or seriously, is THIS how the kids are picking people up these days? I mean, I guess it’s perfectly acceptable now (perhaps even desirable) to suggest different sexual positions, as a warm up for the first date?!?  Weird. Just. Weird.  

Either way, I’m just not willing to go there. 

Update one week later: I am switching my age back to 49.  Not only has the activity slowed down to a trickle, but I realize the likelihood of exposing myself to bad pornography increases, the younger I go.  Perhaps this age will catch me some classiness.  

A girl can dream. 

The Time I Decided to “WOMAN THE F#CK UP.” And call him.

So i had this really great date with this guy - we will call him Mr. Man so as to protect the innocent - on Saturday, followed by a short meet-up on Sunday at a Hip-Hop show he was bartending.  Before leaving that venue, we gave each other a nice hug, and he kissed me on the cheek and said “I’ll call you.”

So - after the requisite 48-hour “call-free” zone was over (you know, just to make sure they don’t get the idea that you’re too interested, or worse: a creeper) I started feeling a little anxious. Mostly because i'm a girl.  And also, because I have lifelong anxiety issues. 

And then, by Wednesday when he hadn’t called, my inner critic revved up his loud, nasty rhetoric and started blaming ME for Mr. Man not calling!  What was it about ME that Mr. Man suddenly decided he didn’t like?  Or, did I just COMPLETELY mis-read his signals?  I have, after all, not been dating regularly since my last LTR ended, going on...THREE YEARS NOW.  

So yeah, that was it.  Either I had completely mis-read him, or (now its 72 hours later and i have fabricated a different scenario) perhaps he had found out something terrible about me and my past (and i'm not talking about “The Slutty Years” in my early 20’s.)  I'm talking about the period after that, in my mid-20’s, when I was a hot D.J., still drinking alcohol, and I told a fellow D.J. that NO, I did NOT have cats, when he asked me whether I did, after D.J.’ing a successful set at DECO in SF and inviting him over to hang at my house.  He was allergic you see, and when we got to my house,  he quickly found out that I DID have cats, but i lied about it because i wanted to make out, and in addition to being fairly drunk and not giving a sh#t about his allergies, i was too much of a self-centered a-hole to not understand how much cat allergies were usually a HARD NO for ppl.  

But he was gracious about it, though I did manage to catch him making a mental note about what a self-centered a-hole I actually was…at least in that moment.  We tried making out, but he started sneezing and had to exit the building rather quickly. 

And I hear you asking, well, what does this bad behavior in your mid 20's  have to do with Mr. Man? As it turns out, absolutely NOTHING, BUT - After that successful Saturday date, I came home and FaceBook stalked Mr. Man (he has an unusual name) and I found out that we had THAT FRIEND in common.  

Yes I know, that scenario is just a bit of a S-T-R-E-T-C-H.  But, when you’re “like me” and trying to make sense out of WHY a man, who was seemingly very into you, SAID he would call you and then DOENST call you, lets just say that the tales that my creative mind tends to weave in those times are very “out there.” 

So, after speaking to my girlfriend on Saturday (a full six days later) about my predicament (I mean, why is he gonna say he will call if he has no intention of calling?!? Should I take that as a HINT-HINT? And blah blah blah with her for another 15 minutes), I decided I just needed to WOMAN THE FUCK UP and call him.  Or at least send him a text.  So I did.  And it said:

“heya – u interested in connecting again? At some point in the near(er) future? just checking in…"

5 minutes later, I receive a text back from him:

“Hey! For sure…ive been a bit distracted since I saw you last, from some bad news regarding my housing….”

A familiar story in the bay area. 

And wow…imagine that, I’m not the center of Mr. Man’s Universe. And his not calling me had absolutely nothing to do with me. Zip, Zero, Zilch, NADA. 

And though I will continue to be annoyed at ppl. who say they're going to do something (“I’ll call you) and then don’t do it, perhaps next time, I will be less inclined to jump to the conclusion that their lack of follow-through has anything to do with me.

Or not.  A girl can dream tho…

WTF Are We Doing to Our Men? - 031617

Take a look at the inside cover art for “A Tribe Called Quest’s” (ATCQ)  most recent album titled “We’ve Got it from Here, Thank you for your Service”.  Fabulous album, destined to become a classic, imho.

"We've Got it from Here, Thank You for your Service" - ATCQ - 2016

Take a good, long look at this imagery – what sort of feelings, stories, emotions does this imagery evoke, for you?  For me…  all kinds of things pop up, not the least of which feels like my uncanny resemblance to the naked woman in bottom right-hand side of the image.  Except my waist doesn’t go in like that.

If you take a closer look, the woman is taking a selfie.  She is taking a selfie, as the hastily-drawn cartoon-ish MALE version of the original artwork on ATCQ’s 1991 alum “The Low End Theory” (see image below - note this image is FEMALE) as HE looks on…in delight? In horror? Fascination? Disdain?!? 

"The Low End Theory" - ATCQ - 1991

 He appears to mocking her, and mocking the larger social context of what our self-absorbed-selfie-culture has created out of our females: a woman who's upmost concern is getting the perfect selfie (just ask any middle school female if this is their main goal in life), while her male counterpart watches her display of self-absorbtion, he looking - let’s face it, "not good" (he’s been through the ringer, even if we don't care  to acknowledge this), perhaps ready to lose his shit at any moment, as he waits for her to get HER shit together, STOP taking selfies, and START working on WHAT REALLY MATTERS in life – which, obviously, is NOT getting the perfect selfie. 

I mean, how is she just gonna continue to ignore his precarious state of mind (shown vividly in the bugged-out eyes, crooked smile), in favor of the perfect SELFIE?!? The culture of the selfie, which puts, above ALL else, a version of self that is not only ever-changing, but is also easily manipulated.  In a cruel twist of irony, the SELFIE is not a true picture of the real SELF - at all.

On the outside, we can *pretend* to be anybody we want to be (within reason, ppl, I understand it’s tricky for a white woman to live as a black women (although this has been done), and next to impossible the other way around, but you understand my point.  The OUTSIDE version of us is TRULY just a shell, our casing, subject to aging, illness, deterioration and eventually, death.  Whereas the inside…who truly knows, but some think it’s the more (ever) lasting version of self.

So what is going on with the OUTSIDE version of our men, as the women continue to feed voraciously on the me-me-me culture sweeping our sick nation with a sheer force and voracity that boggles the minds of those of us who took on the task of ushering in the next generation, ushering them into a potential future that looks downright Apocolyptic, if you look at it from certain angles?  Well, he doesn’t look well.  To me, he looks like a person who has been used, abused, heaped with all kinds of expectations about who he should be, what he should be doing, how he should be doing it and why what he is doing is ALL WRONG, ALL THE TIME (ladies, we can be a bit harsh with our criticism).  At least this is what I see, when I look at that image.  

ATCQ - "Midnight Maurauders" - 1993

Am I am looking to deeply into all of this?  I admit, I can tend towards the minutiae at times, but this morning, when THIS image flashed across my FB feed, I couldn't help but be reminded what this imagery USED TO mean to me: how they, (black men…or at least a sub-section of black men, as represented by ATCQ), saw us as black woman: powerful AND sexy…or perhaps the other way around.

Ladies: what have we done to our precious men?

Men: I’m sorry.  I love you.  I need you.  I want to be an ally.  I am seriously working on how to truly embody my feminine, and support you in what it means to truly embody your masculine. 

I SUPPORT THE EMERGENCE OF THE DIVINE MASCULINE AND WELCOME ANY CONVERSATIONS WITH MEN (AND WOMEN) THAT HONESTLY FACILITATES THIS EFFORT.

 

on RACISM - 013017

(kracka's note:  i never meant to post this, my first stab at writing down what was coming up for me with regard to racism in America; specifically, what i was witnessing as an increase use of this word, and oftentimes, careless use of this word (imho), which can have unintended consequences.  after writing this, i experienced an AHA moment, which brought to light my own ignorance in pretty glaring fashion about the fact that i was writing this piece through the lens of my own white privilege.  So i started another writing, which i posted here, and since the time of this writing, have been having a very interesting conversation between myself and one of my readers (you can read that at the bottom of the white privilege post).  during this conversation, some of the issues i addressed in my earlier piece came up and, at the risk of exposing my own glaring ignorance to my audience, I agreed to post that piece here...for what its worth.  Enjoy!)

Since the election of Donald Trump, i have noticed, with increasing frequency - and carelessness -, the use of the word racism set right along with the words prejudice, bias, and even, preference, as if these words all mean the same thing.  they don’t.  they are markedly different, and to use them as synonyms is dangerous, divisive, and dare i say, even lazy, since the use of the word marks a clear qualitative DISTINCTION between self and other in a way that allows self to ignore one’s own damaging prejudices. 

the word racism has a very specific meaning and is NOT synonymous with these other words, and, as i have learned time and time again, words MATTER!  They can UNITE, spark discussion and elicit forward-moving action, or they can DIVIDE.  inherent in the word/concept of racism is a very definitive superiority/subhuman dichotomy; in other words, when I call you out as a racist, what I am suggesting is that you consider me to be less of a human than you; that you consider yourself to be a GREATER, SUPERIOR human being.  Unless this is really true, I would consider the use of this word divisive.   

In my experience as a brown person walking this earth, i have rarely encountered or experienced the workings of a true racist, ala Dylan Roof.  As a brown person adopted by white people, I have spent most of my life in communities where I am usually one of the only brown people.  I often make the joke that I went to a high school of 1,500, where there were 3 ½ black ppl; I was the half.  Mostly in these communities, i came into contact with prejudice and bias, very different words; at the heart of these words is typically (i have found) fear of "otheness" - a very natural and workable by-product of being human.  I am not suggesting that prejudice and bias don't have their problems, only that these words suggest a very different working of the mind; one that is easier to stare right in the face, because it doesn't suggest a basic lack of HUMANITY.  Never once can I say I dealt with a racist, or a person who looked at me as if I were less than human. 

I bring this up because when the word racist/racism is thrown into the mix when it should not be, it can have unintended consequences, such as (1) shutting out dialogue and discourse with the very ppl who may be allies to you, or (2) getting someone who is completely unqualified elected as President of the United States, because ppl (mostly white ppl in rural parts of America) are sick of the neo-liberal BS that often suggests white ppls *racism* is THE problem in a world gone amok. Now certainly our nation, and the world in general, is in a very precarious state at the moment, but this is not because of an ideology of racism, which is, in its purest analysis, a form of mental illness.  How many ppl do you know that actually feel that black and brown ppl are SUBHUMAN?  For me in my circles? I encounter pre-judice on the daily, and i am guilty of holding pre-judices myself ), but I can’t think of anyone who i would call out as a racist.

I am writing this here because i think that the biggest issue facing humanity right now is the subjugation of the feminine, and the ongoing battle of the sexes.  We see this as humanity continues to rape and pillage mother earth, even as we XX’S continue to fight for this thing called *equality*, all the while, denying that there are very VALUABLE differences and distinctions between XX's and XY's.  Equality does NOT mean *same*, and if we can accept that it was set up this way by design, perhaps we can begin to make these differences work FOR US, rather than against us. As just one example, generally speaking, XY's are physically STRONGER than XX's, so why do we continue to fight for the right to do ANY JOB men can do? Seriously, if you want to be a garbage collector and sling 50 - 100 lb cans of trash over your shoulder for 8 - 12 hours, more power to you; personally i would rather use the emotional depth that is an XX's gawd given gift (and if you would like to argue this, remember; its woman who are charged with the primary job of NURTURING) to help heal the deep fissures that exist between the sexes.

So - the next time you are tempted to throw the word racism into a post or conversation, think about whether THIS is what you really mean, or whether there is another word, that is more appropriate, and might work to facilitate dialogue rather than shut it down and make the existing divide even deeper. 

Thank you for listening.

ON (my) WHITE PRIVILEGE – 021717

The other week, I had the opportunity to have two very different *conversations* (usually me doing most of the talking) with two very different (looking) people about RACE and RACISM.  And later, as i was thinking about these two very different conversations, I began to wonder how it was that these two, very different-looking people, having experienced RACE and RACISM in America in vastly different ways, have both managed to end up with the same end goal in mind – equality. 

And as I was mulling over the SECOND conversation I had, this one an online conversation with a black male friend of mine, i was completely SHOCKED when he abruptly ended this conversation (that I was having with myself), by suggesting that perhaps he and I had very different understandings of how racism functions in America, it hit me – like a bat outta hell, like a load of bricks to the face – MY understanding of how racism functions in America is from a (ad)vantage point of WHITE PRIVILEGE.  Duh.  And, Yuck.

I mean...white privilege?  Seriously?  But then, what happens to  my life-long story as the orphan?  The BI-RACIAL orphan with the huge identity crisis?  Is that story now completely invalidated by this new awareness? Do i have to hang up my bi-racial-identity-crisis-having-orphan shoes now?!?  Shit, it don´t even know if I can learn this new role at my age.

So – rewinding just a bit to my every day lived experience of race, basically a long, drawn-out conversation I have been having - all my life - mostly with myself, sometimes with others.   But it would indeed be fair to say that this conversation began with a great deal of prompting from the outside world, constantly wanting to know *What I am*.

“What ARE you?!?” was a perfectly normal and perfectly acceptable question from perfectly bewildered strangers (this is back in the "free-love 70´s, just when inter-racial relationships were beginning to gain acceptability - or at least novelty status - in American culture), referring to the question of my questionable *race*, since the color of my skin didn’t outwardly present as one thing or another (for example, the basic black and white mix that makes up my *heritage* if you could call it that). 

And then, thrown into this ambiguity soup for good measure was my adoption into a white family, which was also a rather abrupt  and complete separation - physically, mentally and emotionally, from black people.  Off i went, a product of the newly budding (but as yet not socially acceptable) concept of inter-racial relationships, to be raised by white liberals in (mostly) middle class, predominately white neighborhoods; so in many ways, I have had the classic “white girl” experience.

Except that I’m not white.  Which has always been obvious to the others in my various communities - black, white and mixed (see photo below).   What I got out of all of this ambiguity was a fine sense of “separate, but equal”, which is not so bad, right?  In other words, I have always been the different-colored child, but rarely have I been dehumanized in my brown skin.  I’ve just been – separated, or different from the rest.  

Me and My Family - Separate, but equal

And lately, life has been compelling me to start having conversations with various groups of people about these words RACIST and RACISM, perhaps in order to finally, once and for all, ‘weed out’ whatever it is in 2017 that would have black and white people seeing things so very differently; many of the white ppl. in my life are like "WTF is going on with all of this RACISM?  How did all of this RACISM happen on my watch?!?"  Meanwhile, the black ppl. in my life are like "Silly white ppl...racism has always been part of America´s cultural fabric.  You had the privilege of ignoring this because it didn´t impact you directly.  Well, Donald Trump has ruined all of that for you.  President Trump has ripped the band-aid right off America´s festering primal wound called RACISM, exposing the seedy underbelly of our train-wreck reality T.V. show culture. Enjoy."

In preparation for having these conversations, I began composing a piece that I titled “On Racism”.  The piece began like this:

Since the election of Donald Trump, i have noticed, with increasing frequency and carelessness, the use of the word racism set right along with the words prejudice, bias, and even, preference, as if these words all mean the same thing.  they don’t.  they are markedly different, and to use them as synonyms is dangerous, divisive, and dare i say, even lazy, since the use of the word marks a clear qualitative DISTINCTION between self and other in a way that allows self to ignore one’s own damaging prejudices. 

So there, racism.   I went on, like any good student essay, to proving my point:

The word *racism* has a very specific meaning and is NOT synonymous with these other words, and as I have personally had the opportunity to learn, over and over again, is this: words MATTER!  Words can be used to UNITE, spark discussion and elicit forward-moving action, or they can be used to DIVIDE.  inherent in the word/concept of racism is a very definitive superiority/subhuman dichotomy; in other words, when I call you a racist, what I am suggesting is that you consider me to be less of a human being than you; that you consider yourself to be a SUPERIOR human being.  And, unless this is really true, I would consider the use of this word divisive.  

Now - in my own defense :  All of this is still true for me.  And, it’s also true that my own personal brand of ‘truth’ speaks from the perspective of white privilege – which in it’s first, perhaps simplest interpretation means that my life has never been or felt physically threatened because my skin is brown.   

And i could go on and on to list the numerous and varied ways, both large and small, that (my) white privilege has worked, in my favor, to provide me with a very sheltered and shielded view from the de-humanizing effects of racism, but i won´t.  Instead,I would like to offer you a gut-wrenching, heart-breaking example of how the absence of white privilege manifested itself in my life recently.

Yesterday, I attended a funeral for the 19-year-old child of a dear, dear friend of mine, a woman I have known for nearly 25 years.  This friend is a black woman, she has 3 other beautiful children; the child who was killed happened to be her youngest son.  This child was a nice kid, very funny, life of the party kind of child, who lived by the seat of his pants, who made some bad choices – didn’t we all as kids, but thankfully, none of those bad choices got us killed.   His last bad decision landed him with the wrong group of people, at the wrong place, at the wrong time.  And when you are young, male and black, you better believe it´s “shoot to kill.”

I don’t worry about this happening to my (now) 13 year old black son.  Because, quite frankly, (my) white privilege has sheltered me from even thinking the thought that a family member of mine is not safe in the color of his skin.  To be fair, my dear, dear, friend never saw this coming to her child, either.  She was knocked off-guard how quickly her black child became just another statistic.  

And even though i don´t worry about the physical safety of my young, black son, this doesn´t  mean that a threat doesn´t "actually" exist.  I would say it’s more than likely that my son’s black father sees the safety of his black son in a very differently light.  I suspect that he is keenly aware of the very real threat my 13 year-old black son faces, on a day-to-day basis.  But, can you see how both perspectives are true, albeit subjective?  Same – same, but different.  And now more than ever, I am both thankful for my present perspective, and also very aware how easily my own personal sense of safety could be completely annihilated.   

So after all of that reflecting,  I THEN understood what my black male friend was trying to get across in his post (which I only paid the briefest of attention to, so that I could get my OWN, ‘more important’ point across), which was this:

“Black people really don’t want to have this conversation anymore with white people.  They just don’t.  It’s not their problem.  It’s a white people problem.”

And so I (thought) I was having this (one-sided) conversation with my black friend about how I didn’t agree with Toni Morrison’s assertion (lol i know, wtf with MY ego, huh?) that racism was a ‘white people’s problem’ – because blah-blah blah….  And my friend was gently insisting, well that’s not really Toni’s point; her point is that perhaps it’s time that white people have these conversations on their own, without black people.   And as I continued to blah-blah-blah about the VIP difference (in my world) between racism and prejudice, he respectfully ended the exchange.   Wait, what?  But I was just getting warmed up! 

So basically I missed his entire point.  His and Toni Morrison’s, of course.  You can see the full video here. 

And once I was able to go back and re-trace my missteps and locate what I now understand to be the point of his post, I wanted to share this insight with my OTHER friend, the one I had the FIRST conversation about race with: this one with a white woman-friend of mine, in which I was blah-blah-blah-ing with her all about race (because she brought it up) and I have had this, and similar conversations with white people on so many other occasions in my mixed-girl lifetime, I thought THIS was going to be the time I was not going to let that word slip on by without some more carefully thought out examination about how this word is being used– or mis-used, as I happen to think the case may be. 

And I was telling all of this to my white female friend, because as we were discussing the issue of race and racism, she brought up some of her recent experiences in a discussion group of activists (predominately white, but some black) where often in this group she, as a white person, feels at a LOSS as to what the expectation is from black ppl about how she is to be handling the problem of racism (locally and globally), and specifically, what that looks like, as actionable items.  “Step up, and step BACK” is often the message, which is then followed by what feels to her like a confrontational “So now what are you going to do to fix it?”  And what, exactly, does “Step up, Step back” look like within groups that gathered for the woman’s march, where there must be, what my white female friend calls *intersectionality*, because otherwise, she says “ it’s just a white woman’s march.”

I now understand that these conversations need to take place between white people (and those of us who reap the bennies of white privilege) and NOT in and amongst a group of people who grew up “Black in America.”  I am Not Your Negro is a movie out right now about that very topic, what it means to be "Black in America.”  Says author James Balwin: “The story of the American negro is the story of America and it’s not a pretty story.”

And as I begin to take a deeper, more intimate look at exactly how (my) white privilege might be used to engage and facilitate conversations on “race” and “racism in America” I bring you this first, very important message, from black people to white people, which is to say:

“Stop talking to me about racism.  Talk amongst yourselves.  Racism is a white ppls. problem, so go figure out your shit.  And then get back to us.”

So there it is.  My white privilege.  And if there is one very important lesson I have learned from this long and winding exploration of (my) white privilege, and what all of this means to me on a practical, day to day basis:  it means that whatever it is I still want to do with this life, well I better go on and start doing it, like today, like NOW.   Because truly, there is nothing standing in my way.

Except me.