Gratitude

Everything in my life is filtered through GRATITUDE. It precedes every decision and follows every result.

This week was no exception.

This year, my teenagers both asked me to volunteer for the high school retreat. They told me I would love it and wanted me to experience it with them. The simple fact that they WANTED me to go was reason enough for me. A guaranteed yes.

GRATITUDE

Not only was I able to serve the HS SCA students and staff @yl_lostcanyon, but I got to do so alongside my R.O.D. partner for life @momeopathy!

Our days were full, busy, and sometimes chaotic. But in those brief windows of respite, we would take in the beauty and serenity of our surroundings. It may not have been a vacation, but time together (alone) is always time well spent.

GRATITUDE

PITS

Serving alongside some amazing and dedicated parents and camp staff at this year’s SCA High School Retreat @yl_lostcanyon was an absolute pleasure and privilege.

It was a time of bonding, fellowship, and fun that I will remember for the rest of my life. Before, during, and after every meal, there was a synergy and enthusiasm among the kitchen staff to make sure that every task was covered and every need was met.

This was my first year attending, and though some people may think the PITS crew is the least desirable job (that’s working in the kitchen as part of the cleaning crew), I found it to be the most rewarding!

We laughed.

We danced.

We cleaned.

And we did it all with joy!

A big shout out to the camp kitchen staff (@lostcanyonkitchen), Monica, Jo Jo, Todd, Emma, and others… who answered every question with a smile, pointed us in the right direction, and encouraged us along the way. Thank you for blessing our kids. They may never know the extent of the incredibly hard work that goes on behind the scenes. But those of us who worked with you understand the amount of love that goes into everything you do. It was beautiful to see!

Can’t wait until next year!

GOOD-NORMAL

I saw a post a few days ago where someone said that they “will be so glad when things return to normal”. I mean, on the surface I understand that this statement was meant to imply that, with society in such a volatile state, and all of the many unsettling events over the last year, it’ll be nice to relegate those things to the past.

But for me, it hit different this time.

All I kept thinking is that NORMAL being a good thing is completely subjective.

It must be nice to experience the luxury of a NORMAL that reflects an inherent national optimism, or an expectation that most people will treat you well and extend respect and common courtesy as a matter of course. It must be nice to be the recipient of a NORMAL that regularly regards you with support instead of suspicion.

It must be… nice.

But for those of us who’ve been in the press of a punitive society for years and years, that’s not what NORMAL means to us. As a casualty of this press, here’s what “NORMAL” looks 

and feels like.

* Normal is knowing there is a specific amount of time before I have to intentionally change direction while walking behind someone in a store (or on the sidewalk, or at a school, park, gym, etc.), just to avoid that all too common “look back”.

* Normal is assessing every situation or circumstance in advance, and making necessary adjustments based on the specific stereotypes I will need to manage in that moment.

* Normal is the constant reminder that a BIPOC who is well spoken is always the exception and never the rule.

* Normal is immediately defining any opinion I may have as a complaint, and to be outspoken is to be rebellious.

* Normal is being told that “opportunity” is working twice as hard for half as much.

* Normal is guilty until proven innocent.

Back to NORMAL?

You cannot return to that which you’ve never actually left.

This year, NORMAL has just been exposed for what it truly is. And good is definitely not the word I would use to describe it.

THE FEAR FACTOR

Be the change.

Although I’ve been relatively silent on social media the last couple weeks or so, I have not been idle. I have been having conversations, both online and offline. Great conversations. Hard conversations. Conversations full of awkward silence, along with moments of beautiful insight and revelatory sorrow. But in all of them, I’ve seen progress. I’ve seen us pushing things forward… together.

In looking back over the events of the last few years, one of the recurring statements that often preceded a POC’s loss of life by an LEO was that the officer “feared for their safety”, or the safety of someone else… a neighbor, a store owner, a colleague. While we can endlessly debate the validity of that assertion, we can and should look at the part fear has played in the history of violence against people from different cultures.

It seems the from the very beginning, white Americans (and to a lesser degree, Americans in general) have been conditioned to fear those who were different from them. Or at least view them as what I call “necessary adversaries”. It reminds me of the quote, “Nothing brings people together like a common enemy.” I remember playing “Cowboys and Indians” as a child. And although no one sat me down and said, “The cowboys are the good guys, and the Indians are the bad guys” It was just understood that this was true because everything we saw reinforced this belief. From toys to books to TV shows… the kids were upset when they had to be the “indian”. When I go back and watch “Old West” films, I find that they’re rife with the indoctrination of Native American savagery. “Indians” steal food and livestock. They rape and kill and have no concern for what’s fair or honorable. A false narrative.

Conditioned to FEAR.

In much the same way, the portrayal of African Americans in media (television, film, books, advertisements, etc.) has served to reinforce the stereotypical dangerous stranger. No one may have said it straight out. But to look around is to understand that “Here are the many reasons you should be afraid of black people.” We are gang bangers who live to terrorize communities and kill indiscriminately for sport. We sell drugs to support our own drug habits, and will kill family and friends if they interfere in this process. We steal women from other races and dominate them in defiance of the authority and superiority of other races. We are lazy, seeking only comfort and convenience, to the detriment of our futures or concern for anyone other than ourselves. Another false narrative.

Conditioned to FEAR.

For too long our country has been living in denial of the underlying traditions of xenophobia that support our current racial divide. Until we acknowledge the truth of our own biases, we cannot effectively address the immeasurable damage of this “fear” that has rippled throughout history.

How then do you retrain someone to no longer fear those of whom they’ve been repeatedly told to be afraid?

In some of my conversations, I’ve heard people say that education is not the solution. To a degree, I agree with that statements. We must understand that education was never meant to fix the problem of discrimination or systemic racism. But education provides the light that exposes an issue, so that we can fully understand and see clearly what it is that we’re attempting to fix. EDUCATION becomes the antidote to fear.

The solution then becomes replacing fear with COURAGE and DETERMINATION.

Embrace COURAGE.

Show DETERMINATION.

Together we can be the catalyst for CHANGE.

THE MINE FIELD

I’ve had a chance to process more of what’s taking place AROUND me, but more importantly, what’s happening INSIDE of me. See, there’s been a shift of focus. Here’s what I mean…

In the past, I’ve been content to navigate life by trying my best to avoid instances of prejudice, discrimination and flat out bigotry. I call them racial land mines. Whether obvious or hidden, these land mines are a very real threat to me and others like me, in several aspects of daily life. It could be targeted discrimination on the job, excessive derision or bullying at school, false accusations by my neighbors, or undue scrutiny at the store.

LAND MINES.

Over the years, I’ve learned how to circumvent many of these situations by treading cautiously through life. A sad truth. I’ve done my best to teach these avoidance strategies to my two adult sons, and even my 13 year old. It absolutely kills me that this is even something that I have to do. But my hope was that having these tools might LESSEN the chance of them being injured, abused, or let’s be real… murdered. I say lessen because while prevention would be the obvious goal, there simply is no guarantee. I’m aware of the fact that when it comes to these land mines, prevention is not always possible, even under the best conditions.  One false step and it detonates. I NEED people to understand that I carry around with me the reality that there is no protected space. Anywhere. There is no guarantee of safety, even inside my own home.

I’ll be honest. In the past, when people asked about my experience in order to “understand what it’s like”, it was… frustrating. Not because they asked. But because I didn’t think they understood how much of an impossible request this might be. Why? Because there is no equivalent to systemic racism. It’s a different kind of beast. Nothing I described to them would come close to fully expressing the residual strife of a hostile environment built over hundreds of years. Even now, I can’t always articulate how I manage the haunting navigation of black life in America. The closest I’ve come recently is to say that my daily black experience can be summed up in one tormenting question…

AM I NEXT?

Imagine starting every day with this thought overshadowing every thing you do… every conversation, every activity, every interaction. Maybe that will give people insight into what it feels like to be black in America.

LAND MINES.

Because of their pervasiveness, I now know that it’s not enough to just AVOID them, we have to do the hard work and DISMANTLE them. I say WE because I’m convinced that we are far more likely to accomplish this united together than we ever could working alone. We start by having honest, uncomfortable, and sometimes difficult conversations with one another, so that we might understand the reality of the life we live, and how we affect each other. This is how we gain valuable perspective and hopefully, grace and empathy.

This also allows us to identify land mines that may not be obvious to everyone around us. Pointing them out is the first step toward disarming and hopefully destroying them. That’s not to say that I have all of the answers. But I do believe they can be found through our combined efforts.

So my focus has shifted.

I’m now at the point where I see the need and sincerely desire to have these conversations. As a matter of fact, I welcome anyone who wants to have genuine dialogue about our current conditions, the implications of this movement, the way all of this affects me and my family, how it might be affecting you and yours, and what can be done to move things forward.