A newsletter from ya gurl, B |
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Well everyone, I had lots of plans for this second newsletter, but I've had a pretty severe case of paradigm shift. So... If you missed the first newsletter HERE it is, but it won’t be too relevant since we’ve basically made a quantum leap in reality. Fortunately, the core question to this newsletter rings ever-relevant, “What is the color of normal?” |
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Work in Progress I have tried to write this newsletter so many times. I keep storing up things I want to say to neatly package to you what is going on in my world. But I’m a continuous re-contextualizing and if I wait to share some finished project or thoughts, I may never reach you. It’s actually urgent that I just share what I have for you in this messy, ever-evolving moment. Everything I’m about to share will be a complete work in progress, just like the new chapter of work all Americans are about to embark on. |
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Breath I biked over an hour across Chicago. From Pilsen to Wrigleyville. 98 degree weather, sun beating down. My back pack – heavy and full of gear in case shit hits the fan – is constricting my lungs. I'm wearing thick black overalls ‘cus I wanted to cover my skin. Again, just in case. I have to stop four times on this bike ride to catch my breath and chug water. I didn’t think I was gonna make it in time, if at all. I told my girlfriend Sierra I wold join her there. She fears for her life and hasn’t left her apartment in weeks. Not because of COVID-19, but because of the other invisible disease in our country: white supremacy. She’s Black and taking the risk to go out and stand for other Black lives; the least I could do is show up and offer my body in protection of hers. I had to stop twice on the march from Wrigley Field down to Lincoln Park, ‘cus with my mask and the heat and the back pack and the fucking thick black overalls, it was difficult to breath. And I couldn’t say it out loud in that setting but all I kept thinking was “I can’t breath. I can’t breath” And as I walked for George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmuad Aubrey and so many more stolen lives, I repeated that thought over and over in my head. Along the route we passed a National Guard tank. When we reached Lincoln square, the organizers paused us and everyone took a knee. As bodies lowered, I watched the wave ripple back and waited for the end of this crowd to appear. The crowd went as far as my eye could see. Then the young black organizers spoke. College students, poets and activists. “If you are not moving forward with us, then you are IN. THE. WAY.” the lead organizer amplified, and the predominantly white protesters roared with applause. Then he announced, “we have a change of plans ya’ll. We’re going to a police station for a peaceful sit-in.” Now I don’t know if you know Chicago’s neighborhoods. But this was a Northside protest. This group of protesters is white as hell. Had these organizers announced on the event graphic where we were all going to end up, I assure you I would have seen the edge of that crowd. But once he had us captive in this pit stop, he knew where he had to take the white mass next. We then walked another 20 minutes. On the way I saw my friend David, a shy young black man who’s a childhood friend of my dear friend DJ. I awkwardly waved my hands 6 feet away to catch his attention, then we had to really lock eyes to understand who each other were through the masks. Who are you? Are you smiling at me? When recognition sank in: “Ah, good to see you!” “Good to see you too!” and then we went about our pace, as if we had run into each other at the mall. At the police station, we were met by a horseshoe of what I can only guess were 50 police. Some of their faces perfectly neutral, some of them visibly uncomfortable and anxious, some of them smirking. The sit in was overall peaceful. Some rogue, young, white college student thought he was revolutionary by antagonizing some policeman personally. Which made most people cringe and hush him; we attack their job, not their personhood. But mostly we listened to our black leading organizers, and took their cue to start chants. When everyone dispersed, my partner and I biked home. The whole bike ride back I whimpered and blurted “fuck!” because I was physically and emotionally so exhausted that each pump of the leg felt colossally impossible. When I got in the shower, I folded into a ball on the ground. Standing up made me light headed. When I got out of the shower, Dan gently wrapped a towel around me and patted me down. And he patted my shoulders, and he kept padding my shoulders. And I let the tenderness sink in. And I started to breath more deeply. And I had an anxiety attack. One in which there was no breath deep enough to make up for all the constricted breathing I tolerated all day from the physiological fear. Fear that I’ll pass out. Fear that the national guard tank will start rolling. Fear that a seemingly peaceful protest will suddenly break into rubber bullets and tear gas at the impulse of the cops. Fear that white supremacists agitators will entice and misguide these young white college kids who are eager to feel radical. Fear that things will escalate so badly that I will see a cop lay hands on Sierra or David like they’re animals. Fear that I’ll see it coming and I’ll throw my body in harm’s way and experience physical brutality like I’ve never known. Fear that I can’t breath. |
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Breonna Taylor's birthday was June 5. She would have been 27 years old, my age. |
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Say her name. Out loud. Then take a deep breath. And then check in with yourself. How are you feeling? What about this current moment makes you fearful or anxious? What makes you excited? What are you confused about that you want more answers on? Please, we all must continue to process and have conversations together about what’s changing. So I ask that you take any of your emotions and questions and anonymously dump them on me. I promise, writing any of your thoughts will help you (and me). WRITE YOUR ANONYMOUS THOUGHTS AND QUESTIONS Don’t worry about being eloquent, I don’t give a rat’s ass. I will do my very best to take in our questions and thoughts and address them over time. We are all capable of learning, and we are all capable of teaching. |
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A Portal I feel like a portal into a new dimensions has ripped open. I feel like all the chaos and tragedy boiling over after 400 some odd years of being a deeply complicated country is now reaching a clear clarion call. This is a window of opportunity. Before COVID-19, I was aware of all that was terrible and wrong with our country, but the matrix of problems felt so impenetrable. So deeply disguised in the busyness of our lives. And honestly, I was juuuuust comfortable enough that I didn’t go out of my way to take to the streets about it. That’s my privilege. Well capitalism is on pause, love. And now, all of the well meaning white people who wished they could have made that protest or read that James Baldwin book but just had to get to their jobs and their yoga classes, have no excuse but to see the inequity and show up to change it. |
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studio, stencil, pieces in progress |
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The Work What does the work look like to show up as a non-black ally in this moment? It’s internal. It’s not exhibitionist, it’s not a post or a like. It's not even just a donation. It’s bringing it up in therapy (if you have the privilege of therapy). It’s bringing it up in conversations with other non-black friends and family and normalizing this as an issue that matters to everyone, because this is an issue of our humanity. It's self-educating and self-reflecting. And then when you've done all that and feel good and pat yourself on the back, keep doing it again and again. Everyday I have been taking in so much information and on-the-ground footage of what people are saying and what is happening at protests, in Chicago and other cities. I’m late to showing up as an unequivocal Black Lives Matter activist, but the fabric of my life’s work has always prioritized amplifying black and brown voices, and being the Trojan Horse of white spaces. I was the Music Program Director at a community-oriented restaurant and music venue for over a year, and when they released this vague newsletter on the current moment, I wrote this letter to them. As I edited this letter to them with my indomitably intelligent mother, she asks me, “Are you ready for a disappointing response? That is, no response at all?” to watch out for my fragility. But this isn’t about me and my ego. This is about all of us continuing to apply pressure whenever possible to make sure everyone now understands that the baseline of reality is that Black Lives Matter. And then from there, we as a country have a lot of work ahead of us. So here’s where you can begin: If you click on only one thing, please listen to this woman, because she is the whole truth - VIDEO HERE
Then cool down by listening to this woman give heartfelt advice for non-black allies - VIDEO HERE
Other voices I am listening to are: Rachel Cargle Rachel Ricketts Sonya Renee Taylor Read about these activists, follow them on your social media, subscribe to their newsletters, join their Patreon, pay them for their services they have built a career out of constructing. |
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Digital Mock Up, in progress "Body Interruption // Body Nexus" |
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Questions we can all ask ourselves: - When were you taught about race and culture? - How do you plan on helping the fight to end racial discrimination and systematic oppression? - What do you want to learn about? - How can you use anti-racism knowledge to change and progress conversations with friends, family, colleagues and peers? - How can you be actively anti-racist instead of simply "not racist"? - What can you do to support POC (people of color) in your community? - What are your local politicians' policy on ending police brutality?
Personal Actions we can all take:
-Listen to black voices and leaders. -If you’re white, do research on how to be a white ally and share those resources. -Bring up what’s happening in a room that isn’t discussing it. -If you're physically able, show up to a peaceful protest (with masks), and encourage others to come too. -Subscribe to organizations. -Donate to organizations. -Stumble through the awkwardness all white folks will inevitably experience as we societally unwind hundreds of years of racism. -Check where you’re getting your opinions from. Just watching the news but not conversing with your black and brown friends? Hmmm. Don’t have any friends who are black or brown? Hmmmmmmmmmmm. -If you feel late to the cause, know that this actually isn’t about your tears and shame - so just get to work right away. -Understand that there is no going back. Exemplary Business Statements: Upwork Ben and Jerry's Kartemquin Glossier Organizations to donate to and encourage others to do the same: George Floyd Memorial Fund Minnesota Freedom Fund Reclaim the Block Black Lives Matter NAACP Equal Justice Initiative Petitions to sign and make sure others sign: Demand Police Free Schools in Chicago Justice for George Floyd Justice for Ahmuad Arbery Justice for Breonna Taylor Find your local representative and then google email templates on the various issues, 'cus honey I can’t hand everything to you on a silver platter. Books we can read and talk about: How To Be Anti Racist, Ibram X. Kendi Me and White Supremacy, Layla F. Saad
So You Want to Talk about Race, Ijeoma Oluo
And forget Amazon, find your nearest black-owned book store HERE
Learn about Jane Elliot! She’s my hero. |
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That's it! Bless your heart if you read all this. Don't forget to breath and tell someone you love them. If you loved this, will you consider forwarding it to 5 other people in your life? 'Til next time |
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