Be The Light
When we find ourselves in the shadow, we face a decision: blend in or be the light.
In 2015 I moved from Los Angeles to a small town in Northern California. Some things happened there that woke me up. The events that I experienced and witnessed made such an impact that I got involved in politics, started participating in boycotts and attending rallies. I became active on social media and sent so many mass emails about racism and police brutality that a few people started getting annoyed with me.
Now in an ironic twist of fate, during the largest civil uprising since the 1960’s, I find myself locked in a tiny room with a person who is so entrenched in the skinhead culture, that she actually said “white power” in her sleep.
I’ve been incarcerated for two years and up until now I’ve stayed under the radar, avoiding conflict and staying quiet because there’s enough anxiety in this environment without bringing up what goes on outside these walls. But last week I was trembling with anger and sadness, glued to the TV wishing I could be out there doing something to make a difference. Inspired and overtaken by the adrenaline of change, I took a sharpie to my state-issued white cloth masks. I wrote the names of (some of) the unarmed people killed by police. I wrote NO JUSTICE = NO PEACE. ENOUGH IS ENOUGH: CHARGE THE POLICE. I grabbed another mask and wrote POLICE BRUTALITY IS A PANDEMIC. I kept going and when the locked door popped open, my heart pounded out of my chest. We are required to wear these masks anytime we leave our cells. I was filled with dread knowing I didn’t think this through. I contemplated wearing them inside out and just keeping my thoughts to myself until I’m in a more convenient place (like not in prison.) Then it hit me…. what a privilege it is to have a choice. To be my true self now or later is a decision I get to make. Imagine if black people could turn off their blackness when it doesn’t feel safe. I emerged from my cell with my feelings on my face.
The first couple of days were rough. My closest friends got angry with me. Laughed at me. Ridiculed me. Misunderstood the message. (Accused me of supporting looting.) Some of the c.o.’s eyes narrowed or widened and I could tell they weren’t smiling behind their masks. Fellow inmates said things like “There are two sides to every story, you know. Do we even know why he was being arrested?” It took all the patience and strength I have to respond calmly. “Does it matter? What scenario do you think would make what they did to George Floyd ok?” Someone else said “We don’t know what he was saying before they started filming. I’m just sayin’ .. what came before ‘i cant breathe’?” Again I had to ask, “Does it matter? Even if he told the cops that he just had sex with all of their wives, did he deserve that?”
Another friend (that I thought I knew better) told me “Why does it always have to be all about black people though? The police kill us, too… but its not ok to say all lives matter?” I told her to imagine a scenario…. You have a broken arm. It’s sticking straight through the skin. It hurts and everyone can see that it’s broken. You walk into the ER and the doctor says “All bones matter.” and sends you home.
Someone told me “You’re Jewish. why not write the names of everyone who died in the Holocaust while you’re at it?” Because the Holocaust is not what’s happening right now. And if it was, I hope you wouldn’t change the subject.
These exchanges are just a few of many that I’ve had this past week.
There have been a lot of tense moments because of my masks but also a lot of unexpected amazing and hopeful conversations with inmates and cops as well. I think the most important thing we can do right now is be willing to be uncomfortable. Talk about it. Talk about what’s wrong and how to make it right. Don’t write people off. What looks like hate is sometimes just ignorance. Educate them. And if it is hate… even hate can be unlearned.
My bunkie and I actually get along. Believe it or not, she’s sweet and we have a few things in common. She was a stranger thrown into my cell on day 2 of an 18 day lockdown and being quarantined with her has led to some “aha” moments. She grew up and lived in that same small town that I had lived in for a year. The place that drove me to activism is the same place she learned her first racist joke when she was two years old. I told her about my experience there and she told me what it was like to be raised by skinheads.
The name of the town doesn’t matter because there are places like this and mentalities like this in every state. I call it the shadow of America. When we find ourselves in the shadow, we face a decision: blend in or be the light.
Because of recent events leading up to and including the murder of George Floyd, we all find ourselves confronted with America’s Shadow. For me it happened in 2015. For some it happened when they were born. For many, it’s happening now.
Be the light. Be the light even when it bothers the people around you. Their eyes will adjust.
