It’s Wednesday, and I’m a writer. That’s about the only reason the title is what it is, and because I couldn’t think of anything else to use. Check-in sounded too session-y, and holy shit the world’s on fire a little histrionic. Both are, however, true. So this is a Writer Wednesday Check-In Because the World Is On Fire.

And in some ways, my sentiment is, Burn, baby, burn. It’s well past time we reckon with the consequences of the genocide we’ve committed against Black and brown people in this country, (I’m in the U.S. if that wasn’t already clear), and the convulsive changes occurring here and around the world are necessary for growth.

Sure ain’t easy, though. Mr. Floyd was laid to rest yesterday. I keep trying to write something coherent about it but run up sharply against the fact that the world doesn’t need another horrified white lady extolling … well, anything on race right now. No shit, it was horrible that he was murdered. But the truth is, this has been happening for hundreds of years, in big cities, in small towns, and in rural places in the back of beyond. Like Will Smith said, racism isn’t new, it’s just being filmed.

So how do we move forward from this moment? Particularly when we’re gripped in a global pandemic and an environmental cataclysm that may make everything else moot if we don’t get on it?

I don’t know. And that’s not a bad thing, this not-knowing. It’s not comfortable, I know that. But I want to invite you to sit with that not-knowing, that place between what we knew to be true and the place of what is actually true, or at least the next threshold. The more we can hold this place of not-knowing, the better we can listen and have a chance to really hear the lessons we’re being called to learn.

What that looks like for me is a couple things.

One is, I learned a new concept this week: “Performative.” There are many kinds of resistance and, unfortunately, we’ve seen a lot of performative acts over the last week and a half in the wake of Mr. Floyd’s murder by white people. The most egregious example of this are the statements by NFL CEO Roger Goodell, where he apologized to … whom, us? the players? Colin Kaepernick? for censuring players for their peaceful protests of police brutality. Why is this performative? It cost him nothing. Mr. Kaepernick wasn’t re-signed, and the fines paid by him and other players have not been returned, at least as of this writing. But it’s on a smaller, more localized scale too. Many of my fellow whites have been vociferous on social media about the horrors of racism and police brutality, and there’s a subset of these folx who are acting as though they’ve just become aware of it. There’s also a sense that this is what we’re doing this week, but next week when something else comes into our consciousness we’ll go do that and forget about Black Lives Matter. What makes it performative is this aspect of publicly doing it: “See? I’m a good person because I’m shouting out loud how bad this is, and how much it hurts me to see it, and how enraged I am.” I’m not going to restate things that BIPOC folx have said better and more informatively than I can, and frankly we should be listening to them.

Which is my point: I’ve been very quiet the last week or so because I’ve been sitting with my own racism and unconscious bias, and asking hard questions about why I’m posting this or that? Am I doing it to keep the focus on BIPOC voices and activists? Am I doing what they are asking me to do as an ally, or am I doing things to make myself feel better or express my horror and outrage without realizing that the BIPOC community has been traumatized from watching on video Mr. Floyd’s murder? The young woman, all of seventeen years old, who filmed the murder has been the subject of frequent harassment and has been made to feel unsafe. Is my jumping up and down going to help her? Or Mr. Floyd’s devastated family and friends? I ask myself, if it was my family member murdered on a video went viral so that I see it everywhere from social media to the news to analysis shows, how would I feel?

And so, I’m quiet. Because I’d be fucking devastated.

I’ve joined a private reading group to wrestle with these ideas and educate myself better. The book we’ve chosen to read first is called How To Be An Anti-Racist, by Ibram X. Kendi. The link is to Chicago’s only Black woman-owned bookstore. It’s a safe space to discuss the ideas in the book as well as a place to ask embarrassing questions like, what do I tell my Black friend when her neighbor is acting badly? I’d just call the police, but I don’t fear that I might be shot if I did that. I’m at absolutely no risk of it, and in fact depend on the authority my whiteness gives me. What does wipipo mean? Can I use it, or is that not a term that I should be using? How do I talk to my friends and coworkers of color about race? How do I not be an asshole when I’m trying to help?

There are many resources, and if you’re looking for things, may I suggest you look to BIPOC leaders who have already written extensively on the subject? You don’t need me, a white person, educating you on how to be a better ally. We, each of us, need to be doing that work for ourselves and listening to the BIPOC thinkers who are willing to talk to us about it. And we need to not bother our friends, neighbors, and family members with it – they’ve been traumatized by the events of recent days. It’s not up to them to educate us. And we need to be very suspicious of our own desires to ask them: are we asking out of a genuine desire to know? Or are we asking them in specific so they know we’re “enlightened and woke” now? If you absolutely don’t know where to start, check out your public library. They’ve got curated lists and librarians willing to answer all sorts of questions for you.

I know this is a long one, but thank you if you’ve read with me this far.  I wanted to share, and I wanted to write about what’s going on, but it’s been really difficult to find my voice in the middle of what’s going on. For that reason, I’ve decided to coordinate a session of Finding Water starting this Sunday. There is no charge for it and the course will go for fourteen weeks. Head on over to our writing group site, Writer Zen Garden, for more info.

Other than that, I’ve been learning to weave and having a ball with it. I’m also taking a class on Herbalism called the Science and Art of Herbalism, and I made some lavender tincture with brandy this week. It will steep for a month, and then we’ll see how it turned out. I’m going to start featuring more of that kind of activity on my craft blog, Knoontime Knitting. If you enjoy making things, I hope you’ll come on over the join the conversation.

I hope you are staying safe and healthy. COVID appears to not be going away any time soon, so make sure to strengthen your immune system and be smart about being out and about in public. Hug your loved ones close and keep on writing.

Love,

Noony