The Next Step Blog

Tomorrow is Juneteenth, the anniversary of the announcement of the end of slavery. It’s not a well known holiday for lots of reasons. One is that we don’t really like to talk about that part of our history. We don’t like to acknowledge the shadow side of our country and culture.

But “If you are serious about American culture and you are serious about Afro-American culture, you are in a lot of pain. You are not – you are not smiling about it.”–Wynton Marsalis

I was raised with prejudice; my mother justified slavery and the Confederacy without shame. I don’t think any one thing changed me, but a combination of events in my teens and early twenties. The book and movie, To Kill a Mockingbird made a huge impression on this little white girl.

2018 holds 50th anniversaries of so many seminal events in our racial history–the assassinations of Dr. Martin Luther King and Bobby Kennedy, the Watts Riots that happened just a short distance from our Los Angeles County home. I graduated from high school in 1968–a watershed year by many definitions. That’s the way we become aware and sensitive to issues of race, culture and class–in bits and pieces.

Humility and openness are first steps to confronting shut minds and fearful attitudes that are often part of being White. We White people never ever have to face many many challenges; that’s the definition of White privilege.

Those circumstances are no secret these days, but it’s still possible to be blind to them. I continue to learn and grow in awareness; my latest effort involves joining a book club of Black women and White women to discuss how we can come to a better understanding.

Reading books like Root and Branch, Waking Up White and One Crazy Summer is providing a wealth of insight about the long fight for justice and the continuing injustices Black people face.

The point of Juneteenth is to bring attention to our history of slavery and to begin to right some of the wrongs committed over the last 400 years. Join in the celebration!

“If the first woman God ever made was strong enough to turn the world upside down all alone, these women together ought to be able to turn it back, and get it right side up again! And now they is asking to do it, the men better let them.”–Sojourner Truth, 1851

As I understand it, when Sojourner Truth  spoke the words above at the Women’s Convention in Akron Ohio, there was a glimmer of hope that Black women and White women might work together for women’s rights and for the abolition of slavery.

Those hopes were dashed pretty quickly as a “cult of true womanhood” developed. It basically said a woman’s place is not only in the home, but also keeping the gate closed on sex and sexuality–that was the job of White women anyway.

That left sensuality to Black women, according to Paula Giddings, author of When and Where I Enter, the book we’re reading now. As a result the reputation of Black women suffered long after emancipation. It’s still suffering today I think. “Welfare Queen“–really, we are a mess!

At the first meeting of our book club, I asked what we can do to get White women and Black women working together? Billie Wade–“I think we’re doing it now.” Finding our way through uncomfortable conversations, hanging in there through misunderstandings–I think books can help us turn those conversations and misunderstandings into shared experiences. I hope so.

Even when a lightbulb goes on in your head, and you understand some of the things that shaped you, reading this stuff is hard. Talking about it is harder. But we really must summon the courage and humility and compassion to do it.

Sojourner Truth said, “Well, children, where there is so much racket there must be something out of kilter.” There’s a lot of racket right now about poor treatment of women, and certainly there is much that is out of kilter. But this time let’s bring all our sisters, mothers, daughters and grandmothers along as we rise. This time let’s don’t leave anyone behind.

The day after the 2016 election, I met with D Anderson, a young Black man I’ve worked with for a number of years. I hadn’t slept much the night before. Eating dinner at the Drake Diner counter that night​, the election results rolled in, and my dreams of a woman president rolled out. The night sky was a stunner as well​. However, ​unlike the election results,​ the stars​ gave me a sense that things might be all right.

But ​it was a breakfast meeting the next day that began the real shift for me. ​Over pastries and coffee at La Mie​, ​a conversation with D gave me real hope. I said I thought how much worse the election outcome was for him and for other Black people, for immigrants, and for all the less privileged than it was for me​. And so it is.

D works with the Backyard Boyz at CFUM, helping kids develop the resilience to face challenges like poverty and prejudice of all kinds. He, Emmett Phillips and the others are amazing role models for the young men they mentor. That morning after the election, D said he’ll continue to work for change in the local community, making a difference where he can. ​

His hope is rooted in connection to his community and working for change. Listening to his perspective open​ed​ my misery to accommodate his more hopeful view, and time has continued to move that view toward optimism. We can’t survive long without hope.

Even so, ​I’ve become convinced that the American experiment will not survive unless White Americans confront the question of race. ​For me, that’s nothing new​. Growing up in southern California, r​ace is something I’ve been very conscious of since I was a young girl.​ ​

Watching the Watts Riots on tv and living with my mother’s bigotry didn’t set me up very well to live in the world with people of color. I’ve worked on my attitudes, and I’ve never had the delusion that I was without prejudice. I think that’s the very first step to confronting Whiteness. But it’s definitely not the last.