A letter to my White family and friends.
You likely awoke today having been at home last night (per the stay at home orders). I imagine you taking in accounts of uprisings from social media, a newspaper, or TV.
I am not the first person to write to try and interrupt the narrative that portrays property damage as a sin equivalent with murder. On tv news, in particular, you will continue to hear protests described as violent and destructive.
This is a tried and true tactic meant to instill fear, hone in on individualized narratives around right to property, and distract from the actual egregious news: that the police murdered yet another unarmed innocent Black man, and as history would suggest, will not be held accountable.
Protests and movement work is extremely complex. There is no ONE protest narrative. My partner Sunni and I visited the protest in downtown Seattle yesterday and while our experience is but one of many, I can confirm that the police did incite violence through escalation tactics, but that is but one lens. We learned of a circle of Indigenous elders who sang and drummed for those whose lives have been taken by police. People continued making speeches and chanting, lifting up Black voices and demands for justice.
This was not my first protest, but I was unprepared for how quickly things escalated in the part of downtown where we were. In addition to police stoking this escalation, there were also men with open carry assault rifles, Proud Boys (aka organized White Supremacists) as well as White anarchists who almost always take the opportunity for protests to inflict property damage as an ill-fated attempt to “smash capitalism” (which, believe me, I am for smashing capitalism, but I think literally smashing a store window does not achieve this). In all of this, I primarily saw ten thousand people who were angry, righteous, and wanted to be in community, despite a pandemic, to make it clear that police abuse and violence will not be tolerated on our watch. Yet we know that many, including people you know, will be watching from the sidelines thinking, “if only it hadn’t gotten violent… that undermines their message…”
Let’s pause.
Take a breath.
And consider this:
We are being told there’s not enough money to pay for all of the things we would need for public health during a pandemic (adequate test kits, contact tracing, proper PPE). We know doctors are working with wholly inadequate supplies and making the best with what they have. Black and Latinx communities are facing higher rates of covid-19 than White communities, as well as disproportionate unemployment rates. The one-time “stimulus” check is long gone. People are on the brink.
And then another murder by police happens. After years of police inflicted murders. This one like the one before it is caught on video. The evidence is insurmountable. And yet.
When people take to the streets to demand accountability, we are met with heavily armed, militarized police forces. Which are, without a doubt, properly funded. They are not without proper gear. They are not without protection. They are not without the tools they need to do their job.
This sends a clear message: maintaining a militarized police force is more important than public health. Maintaining a militarized police force is more important than Black life. Maintaining a militarized police force is more important than Black rage. More important than economic protections. More important than actual community safety.
So as you read this, I have a few specific prompts for reflection, depending on who you are and how you identify:
1) If you a Jew of Ashkenazi descent, take a breath. Consider the fear your ancestors would have felt before things really escalated in Germany, Poland and other parts of Europe in the 1930s. The heightened security, the sense that their every move was being watched. The sense that acts of resistance would be met with violence. Now imagine feeling that… for generations. As Black families in the US have, and continue, to face that level of violence and surveillance by the police. As we saw most recently, how White women can weaponize the threat of police to instill fear and wreak havoc on Black communities. We must have more empathy, and we must not fall for the bait around violent protest being scary. The protests are happening whether you want them to or not. The rage is more than justified. Somewhere in our DNA, we’ve had a glimmer of this experience. Align with our ancestors. Align with Black lives. Be vocal. Find solidarity in your body.
2) If you are a fellow member of the LGBTQ community, consider for a moment the actual riots that led to us now being able to live more or less freely (depending, of course, on your geography, race and gender). Stonewall was a riot against — you guessed it — too much policing. If you are at home, feeling livid at this attack on Black life but not sure what to do, I implore you: move your money to Black and queer led organizations. Pick a number that feels ‘right’. Now double it. Could you triple it? Will you even notice if it’s gone in 2 months, a year? Send it to bail funds, to black-led movements, to trans people of color led organizations. Some places to start: @blackvisionscollective; @twocsolidaritynetwork; @mnfreedomfund; Black Lives Matter Seattle Freedom Fund. Do your own research. Message me if you want me to vet it, too.
3) If you are someone who consider themselves progressive and also holds class privilege (this is, predominantly, the circles of White people I know): remember that every ounce of attention that you have and give in the world is a political choice. I read something yesterday that said, “if your self-care allows you the space to breathe but does not require you to question why others cannot, then perhaps you have not found self-care but another form of self-abandonment” (@daje.x on instagram). Every time we coddle our succulents without also recognizing that this is a small joy that should be allowed every Black person who wants it, we are doing ourselves a disservice. Every time we take a bath without reconnecting that spaciousness to our solidarity with Black lives, we are doing ourselves a disservice. Every time we use our social media feeds (especially now) for something other than amplifying Black voices and calls to action, we are doing ourselves a disservice. I recently read “How to Do Nothing: Resisting the Attention Economy”, and right before that “The Overstory”. These two books combined reminded me of the potency of our attention, and that attention is truly the only resource we have full power over. Choose how you use it, and how you are generating it back into collective struggle.
4) If you are someone who believes themselves, like me, to be working towards anti-racism, each day, then welcome. Hello. I am on this journey too. I am buoyed by the fact that five years ago, so few people in my network were using social media for outrage against Black lives being stolen by police. Today, my feed is almost entirely covered with comments, posts, stories, editorials, essays that align with Black Lives Matter. AND YET. Nothing has *really* changed on the ground. So I ask all of us: how can we go deeper, together? What accountability do you need? What level of comfort can you give up today, tomorrow, each day? These are not easy questions, and they don’t have easy answers, and the journey will not be linear. But we need to keep asking, need to keep having difficult conversations with ourselves, our communities, our loved ones. We must move to sustained action that is driven by the directives and desires of Black imagination and struggle.
Lest you think that I’m here just writing at you, here are 5 things I have shifted this week:
1) I am taking opportunities to interrupt digital chatter with people I’m close to to make sure we’re naming the need to center Black experiences and demands right now — this is via text and also email threads. This has led to lots of good 1:1 follow ups: “what else can I be doing, help me go deeper”, etc. I think of this as a ‘naming’ and interruption as opposed to a ‘call-out’.
2) I showed up to the protest in Seattle, even though I eventually made the decision to leave because I was not physically or emotionally prepared for police escalation (which was my own fault. I shouldn’t have gone without being prepared. I likely contributed to more chaos than anything good).
3) I am making multiple $100 donations to Black-led organizations here and in Minneapolis, as well as bail funds here and in Minneapolis. This will likely total about $600 total on top of the regular contributions I’m making and the roughly $2,000 I’ve already moved this year because of covid-19 (I’m providing numbers for transparency and context, not for praise. If you want to talk through what a “meaningful amount” could look like for you, reach out).
4) I joined an anti-racist White accountability group that has weekly journaling prompts and follow up conversations so that I can work on my own internalized racism and continue to notice where White supremacist ideology shows up in my body and actions.
5) I’m organizing a prison/police abolition study group for folks wanting to deepen our learning, so that we can actually start incorporating this politics more fully into our actions as opposed to kind of endorsing it as a platform in theory.
What are your five actions? I want to hear them. Let us all value and respect and love Black life while it is with us, not only after it has been robbed.
In love and solidarity,
Elyse
p.s. I’ve been engaged in this work personally and in community for many years now. Here’s some of the scholars and activists who shape my thinking and who I look to for leadership: Ruth Wilson Gilmore, Layla F Saad (@laylafsaad on IG), Brittany Packnett (@mspackyetti on IG), Ibram X. Kendi (@ibramxk on IG), Ijeoma Oluo (@ijeomaoluo on IG), Adrienne Maree Brown (@adriennemareebrown on IG) and countless others on the ground who shape my thinking. I organize with Jewish Voice for Peace Seattle and can be found on IG @pippiphooraaay. Please reach out to be in more accountability with one another.
