I looked in the mirror late last night and for the first time in my life, instead of seeing my new short hair cut or the blemishes and lines on my face that signal aging, or the body I possess with its curves and marks, I saw white. I looked at myself and instead of seeing me first, I saw a racial construct- privilege, opportunity, safety, acceptance, unearned power and the status quo, staring back at me. I have, up until this point, lived with no real sense of what it means to be living in a society defined, built on, carved up, divided and compromised by race, while the friends I cherish, the community members I depend on, and the artists whose work I consume daily for inspiration and education, have and continue to live with their own racal construct. And that for them the construct has been consistent throughout their lives, a perverse saturation of daily existence and at that, one of degradation, exploitation, subjugation, fear, disenfranchisement, grief, and much more I am sure I still have no concept of.
Up until this point my awareness of racism has been abstract, something that exists outside of myself, one-dimensional. I have been unable to grapple with my place in it, to realize the gravity of its influence on my life or reckon with my complicity in it. Weeks of listening to the stories of black people, yelled through megaphones at protests as seen on the news, patiently deconstructed in interviews and podcasts, social media posts and reposts, have all contributed to permeating that protective placenta in which I have lived like a true parasitic fetus. All those things helped, (I am going continue on with this grotesque metaphor) to break the water but what has been most impactful, and has really born me into a visceral understanding is sitting on the concrete with 5,000 other people listing the names of black people killed by police for 35 minutes, sitting in the rain at the Anne Frank Memorial to hear stories from people of color in my community and their experience with racism and the experiences my friends have shared with me, which I hold, humbled.
I have been pulled over twice by police, both times I was in the wrong, both times I got off easier than I could have. I got a ticket for crossing a double yellow line while speeding, but got one ticket instead of two and the police officer let me choose. I was stopped in Boise coming home from a show a few years ago. I had had 3 or 4 beers that evening, I refused to take a breathalyzer, was given a sobriety test, “passed” and was allowed to continue home without incident. I was not scared, I was making jokes and laughing. Oh yeah and I wasn’t even carrying a driver license with me. I am easily accepted by other white people and as such I am afforded the kinds of connections that lead to things like involvement with organizations, jobs and accreditation. My masters degree is being funded by someone who has benefited greatly by the meritocracy and would probably not be in my life were I of a difference race. (Later I found out he really liked Asian women.) I have no criminal record, despite the fact that I have in fact broken the law. Gasp!
When the pandemic first started I went to Walmart, I know, gross. On the way out, I saw some cops questioning a family of middle eastern decent. It was alarming; I caught the eyes of one in the group, a young teenage boy and he looked terrified. I looked away. I started walking past them, toward the door and caught the eye of a very large cop just standing with his hands in front of him in a full on gas mask. He was terrifying. I almost bumped into a brown couple in front of me who had been stopped by a different cop. I froze. I wanted to ask, “Why did you stop them and not me?” but it was obvious what they were doing. I walked around and out the door, acutely aware of the safety my skin.
I waited by my car to see the couple come out, but I said nothing. I have thought about that moment a lot these past few weeks. I knew what I saw was wrong and I knew that doing nothing was also wrong. In that moment I put self-preservation ahead of right action. I was complicit and I perpetuated violence by staying silent. I choose the side of the oppressor and it doesn’t matter how scary it was, thats not an excuse. That family being questioned and that couple infront of me weren’t able to escape that scary situation. They did not have the luxury to walk around it. I put this out there to make a record of it and to be accountable for my actions, so that I may commit to the courage to take action when I see injustice next. The reckoning with oneself is necessary part of the process.
This work is not momentary, singular or isolated to the here and now. In order for things change, I finally understand that it is going to take consistent, sustained effort in the interest of systemic change. This isn’t about owning up to the past and moving on with our lives as we know them. This is about creating a practice of accountability within ourselves and within our systems so that we may see racial justice. This I see as work that will not be completed in my lifetime but necessary to do for the rest of my life. Also I think a lot of racist old people just need to kick the can already.
Policing in this country is ineffective and unjust. We know this. We know the history and we have the data. I am not going to say “hopefully, one day it will be different,” because it is in our nature as Americans to do better, and we will go that way eventually. Right now, it seems radical to the majority to defund and reimagine policing. But I am fully confident that in the future we will look back, like we do now with slavery, and the Japanese internment, and every other major betrayal, and say, “how could we have done that? How could could we have let that happen?” Why didn’t this end sooner? Those who resist it now, are on the wrong side of history. It’s going to take a lot of work, internally as individuals and collectively in action. Its hard an uncomfortable but worth it. We will all be better, kinder, more just, more understanding, more open, more connected. We will all be better off when everyone in this society is treated equally. That, I believe is the real American dream.
On white America’s involvement in this movement, author, James McBride said, “Racism has… been the cancer that has just been killing us and now we want to address the problem. You can’t address the cancer until you know you have it… Now not all of them are going to become surgeons, but a lot of them will, enough that the conversation will change.” -Its been a minute, Sam Sanders.