Some time ago, the Divine (as I conceive and perceive It/ Her/ Him) gave me work to do, and I am doing it. It is a lifelong journey, opening my eyes to bias, privilege, and racism, and trying to resist the urge to sink back into the comfortable space of blindness and denial where I dwelt for most of my life. I do not know if I am doing anyone any good. I do not know what success would look like. but as I told someone recently, It is what I have to do to save my soul. And I have to share it with others. Our humanity depends on it.
Not infrequently, I share things, say things, or write things that make people feel uncomfortable. Maybe sometimes they think about their discomfort. Sometimes they just want me to stop, or to shut up. I am unable to do that, most of the time. and believe it or not, I am restraining myself. Here are some of the things I get told (and what I think when I see or hear these comments):
- Not everything is about black and white, you know.
- Not for me, nor for you, my fellow white person. But if you were black or brown, your experience might tell you that absolutely all experience is different based on the melanin content of your skin. Every single inequity that I can think of leans against people of color and favors people with light skin.
- You are getting a bit obsessive about your cause. This is usually in response to a post about a white person who did something, or interacted with police, and I pose the query (which I am also asking myself,) "What would this look like if the person involved were black?"
- Racial justice is not a "cause" for me. The term "cause" is very limited in expressing how important this has become in my life. I don't do this, or think about it daily, just because I want to make the world better, and certainly not because I want to help "those people." I do this because my humanity depends on it. I do this because my life depends on it. I do this because my soul depends on it.
- Are you calling me a racist?!? or, I am not a racist!
- I am not calling you (or myself) a bad person. I am saying that we live in a society rooted in systematized racism. We white people benefit every day from the color of our skin, and we are very rarely aware of it. This system was created by white people. It is maintained by white people, intentionally and unintentionally. Anyone benefitting from this (ie, every white person in this country) who is not actively anti-racist and doing anti-racism work every day, is perpetuating racism. Does that mean you are a racist? You decide. (PS: I do call myself a racist, and I attend Racists Anonymous. More on that another time!)
- I really admire the work you do.
- Don't get me wrong, this is a nice thing to hear. But I still haven't figured out how to respond. I think about this stuff, read about it, write about it, and offer education to others about it because my soul depends on it. (see above.) I love hearing your appreciation, but I would be happiest if you begin your own self-examination, education, and discovery. I want you to be my companion on the journey, because you are my friend and I love you.
June 23rd used to me a day of note in my life; now it is just a day. Except it isn't.
In 1979, I was married to my (now ex) husband, Dan. That means we would have celebrated our 38th anniversary yesterday. Instead, I have been single again for 11 years, and the anniversaries probably had little real meaning after the 24th.
The wedding was a blast, in very 1970s ways. A good time was had by all. The marriage had its ups and downs, but was overall pretty good for a long time. We raised our two children together, went on fun trips, had a beautiful house on the edge of the woods in Vermont. My career as a physician went well, his as a teacher also went well.
But then we grew apart, as often happens with 2 kids, 2 careers, and busy lives. I somehow thought that when the kids were out of the house we could get to know each other again and prepare for a nice time growing old together. But, as often happens, things did not go as I envisioned. Another woman secretly entered the picture. When I discovered the relationship I offered him the choice of a counselor or lawyers, and he chose counseling-- but his heart really wasn't in it. It became very clear that our lives would be better apart, and we were divorce just before what would have been our 27th anniversary.
We are both happier now. He remarried (another story about that one!) and I remain single, but am in a good space feeling that I am enough. If the right partner appeared in my life, I would be delighted, but I am not going seeking one on Match.com!
Still, every year June 23 rolls around and I wade through a flood of fun memories, sad memories, angry memories, guilty memories. All are only echoes of their initial intensity, which makes it livable. I know life is so much better now; yet still, sneaky inward gnomes tell me I am a failure. I don't assume all the blame for our divorce-- far from it-- but I know I contributed, and I sometimes wish it had worked out otherwise.
When I was still working and met an older patient with a spouse and a marriage of 40, 50, 60 years. How wonderful for them, ("you failure," says the gnome.) When my friends celebrate their 35th, 40th anniversaries, ("you failure," says the gnome.) when I wish I had a partner to travel with, ("you failure," says the gnome.) When I miss having someone to cuddle with, ("you failure," says the gnome.)
I have learned to greet the gnome, offer her a cup of tea, and sit with her for a while. then I send her on her way, hoping she won't feel the need to visit again for a while. But on June 23, I know she will be joining me. I brew a pot of tea, get some cookies, and sit down to wait for our annual chat.
