Equity Design Reflections: Vulnerability as Power for BIPOC Communities
Written by Brooke Staton and rita zhang
For this blog, we (Brooke who identifies as Black and rita who identifies as Asian American) reflected and dialogued on our own experiences as targets of oppression. Whereas our experiences are different, inclusive and expansive of our racial identities, reflections on the need for staying with vulnerability arose for both of us. This blog is a synthesis of this series of conversations.
First, from Brooke:
Let’s start with an understatement: 2020 has been a hard year. Besides the coronavirus pandemic that has upended life as we know it and a brutal election cycle that feels like it will never end, another destructive pandemic — racism — has continued to drive wave after wave of harms for Black folks in particular.
This is neither news nor new in any other sense. The ravages of structural racism that affects our experience of COVID-19, electoral politics, and just about everything else have been afflicting our communities for centuries. Still, through all the twists and turns, as a Black person, the wave of mainstream visibility police brutality received after George Floyd’s murder stands out for me as especially emotionally challenging. Even as we saw more and more images of ourselves being murdered in plain sight with impunity, we also watched white folks and non-Black people of color grapple with what it means to genuinely care about our lives, sometimes for the first time.
I want to reflect on this experience in particular as we approach 2021 because there are lessons to be learned. Just like many other (tired) Black folks, I received quite a few questions from people — especially well-meaning white folks — about what I needed during that time. It was nice on one level, but also a little jarring to have a window suddenly open up to speak more freely about my experiences around racism without acknowledging that these same conversations would have triggered retaliation, dismissiveness, gaslighting, and withdrawal from some of these same people as recently as April. As millions stepped into the streets (again) to demand human dignitiy and safety from police terrorism, the grief about the collective trauma my people have experienced and continue to experience with no end in sight sloshed around in my body like a roiling sea. A life raft — any type of support — was very much of interest. Yet, when these white folks reached out with this newfound willingness to engage, the support felt hollow if they weren’t yet able to wrestle with the ways in which they participate in the problem.
By participating, I’m not just talking about expressions of implicit bias and racist microaggressions that can happen in everyday interactions. I’m talking about a deeper problem: the ways white communities are invested in racist institutions as a way to meet basic needs, such as safety. A package of assumptions accompanies the racialization of Black bodies, including the assumption of criminality or lawlessness implied by our skin. By this logic, the criminal system of injustice that generates mass incarceration is in large part “justified” by a need to keep white communities safe from the assumed threat of Black bodies. The wave of good intentions feels bittersweet if white folks are not yet owning their investment in white supremacy, and are not yet open to imagining ways to thrive that do not rely on oppressing others.
Our voices together:
Centering vulnerability and interconnectedness
As a larger organization of diverse individuals, Reflex Design Collective has been processing and reflecting together on what all the 2020 social crises, and especially the murder of George Floyd, means for our personal and professional work. As we’ve engaged with the discourse around abolition work, Black lives, Black, Indigenous, People of Color (BIPOC) solidarity, the road to dismantling white supremacy, and our own experiences, two lessons emerge for us.
First, within an environment of hundreds of years of racial injustice culminating into the uprisings of this year, there can be overwhelming pain and fear from the intergenerational racial trauma that we carry. This pain and fear can make it especially difficult for BIPOC communities — and especially Black communities — to remain connected to the raw and tender space of our vulnerability. Second, maintaining a connection to our vulnerability through this moment in time is essential because it is what links us to our humanity and in turn, to each other.
In our conversations about ways to deepen and expand our thinking on what racial justice means personally and professionally, a theme that emerged for us was a yearning for hope. For us as BIPOC changemakers mobilizing against the system that targets us, it feels like the power we need most is rooted in the vulnerability that allows us to connect with one another.
Abolition as a new way to engage with vulnerability
Our reflection is in part inspired by the centrality of vulnerability in liberation work as modeled by visionary activists and organizers leading movements to defund the police. Abolition work isn’t only focused on tearing down the current system; it also constructs forward-looking possibilities. Modern-day abolitionists champion a vision in which safety is generated by investments in opportunity for all people instead of policing. Potential harms are reduced through proactive efforts to support community members to thrive, and accountability is approached through a holistic understanding of the situation that allows us to address the bigger picture of what went wrong for each person involved.
Vulnerability is central to this work of replacing policing with community care and accountability because it relies on real relationships. Doing abolition work requires lifting up our collective vulnerability as a strength that allows us to connect with others in our communities to offer support and generate healing. For Black folks in particular, this means that our vulnerability too is protected and we are no longer unjustly criminalized, policed, and murdered. And, for white folks with racial privilege and people of color adjacent to racial privilege, this means that we say no to a fear-based relationship to our vulnerability that has indirectly or directly supported an oppressive policing system for centuries, and instead take action to be in solidarity with the Black community.
The work of cultivating safety in community is first and foremost about valuing every human as a full person that is not disposable. Humanized approaches towards conflict resolution, such as restorative justice, require all participants to be vulnerable and authentic about their needs and experiences. Similarly, investing in resources such as education, housing, and healthcare require acknowledging focus on the basic needs of communities and addressing that vulnerability in a supportive way.
This acknowledgement of vulnerability, central to humanity, is missing in current approaches to “justice” that emphasize punishment and domination. If we follow the example of abolitionists and lean into the power of supportive relationships, it becomes possible to move beyond oppressive approaches that privileged communities use to meet their needs at the expense of others.
What do we mean by vulnerability?
By vulnerability, we mean the needs that must be met in order for us to avoid harms. These needs include the need for safety, the need for food and shelter, and the need for healthy connections with one another. When these needs are not met, our vulnerabilities can lead to trauma and injury. Therefore, the experience of vulnerability is often associated with fear. Unmet needs and piercing traumas are not evenly distributed; race, income, geography, education, language, and more impact how likely we are to have our needs met. Many of us understandably put up walls to try and avoid these injuries, whether they are emotional or physical.
Given their positionality, privileged folks have often unjustly relied on oppressive systems that insulate their vulnerabilities. This includes white Americans relying on brutal policing and incarceration, men relying on gender-based violence, and capitalists relying on the exploitation of workers. On the other hand, there are countless counter-examples of generative models and practices in which a healthier relationship with vulnerability is a source of radical power. Many BIPOC communities see this at work in our own communities, such as mutual aid lending circles amongst immigrants and cultures of care and solidarity between Black women.
For us, cultivating a healthy relationship with our vulnerability requires valuing vulnerability in ourselves and others. This means acknowledging and appreciating the ways in which we are soft and doing our best to make sure everyone has those human needs met. Actively cultivating healthier relationships with our vulnerability allows us to build power through connection, rather than rely on destructive, controlling, and dominating ways of generating safety. Vulnerability is the medium through which we connect with others rather than shirk away in isolation, separated by defense mechanisms. Furthermore, a healthy relationship to vulnerability allows us to lift up our collective desire for freedom and acknowledges that the way towards freedom requires us to be reliant upon one another. Embracing vulnerability centers and enables greater interdependence and community with each other while trusting that there is abundance and enough for us all.
The power of vulnerability in action
Systems of accountability that rely on connection rather than dehumanization encourage a positive feedback loop, increasing care and solidarity in communities. Investments in these interdependent systems enable healing and connection, and the presence of connection is necessary for these systems to work in the first place. For example, restorative justice practices use circles of people in conversation with one another in order to work through conflict. Similarly, education relies on supportive connections between teachers and students. Common recreational spaces, collective models of work such as cooperatives, and most other forms of everyday solidarity all bolster the power of community to provide care, built on the strength of connection.
In turn, connection requires vulnerability — the same vulnerability that traumatic experiences can make terrifying. Still, hope for a better future depends on our ability to heal and overcome these barriers within us, just as much as it depends on our ability to overcome oppressive systems around us. Vulnerability allows us to be hurt, but the same vulnerability enables us to feel and learn from our own experiences and those of others, leading us to our most transformative visions of liberation. This power, demonstrated through the strength of major collective action and small everyday relationships, must continue to be nurtured as we fight to get free.
Defense mechanisms against vulnerability
It’s important to name that vulnerability is vital to the success of social justice work because staying in vulnerability is itself so hard. Vulnerability has the power to transform our inner and outer worlds and simultaneously is full of risk. For BIPOC, the risk is especially real when we are caged in a matrix of structural oppressions with seemingly no escape routes. We are left with the immense weight of feeling the scarcity, the grind, and the struggle of moving through this world. In this position, we may feel that surviving the day-to-day is the most important. As a result, we may even build up hardened walls and defense mechanisms that wall off our vulnerability to help us get by more easily. We learn to take the path of least resistance and to accept — or even embrace — the defenses that help us survive.
For example, the gender justice movement requires men’s willingness to tap into their vulnerability and become awakened to the damaging effects of patriarchy. Nonetheless, toxic masculinity continues to exist when men subscribe to narrow definitions of manhood and perpetuate violence in all forms in our communities. Yet, we also know that men themselves are suffering the consequences of this disconnection from their true feelings: isolation, limited tools for conflict resolution, and toxic stress. Vulnerability has no gender; we all are born with the human ability to be with our emotions, to be powerful in softness, and to be interdependent. When men choose to be in the defense mechanism of traditional gender roles, it may seem easier, but we all suffer.
The tradeoffs of defenses
To be clear, outward vulnerability is not always appropriate. Defense mechanisms exist for a reason. Defensive coping mechanisms often develop in response traumatic experiences, and these walled-off reactions help us survive harmful situations. However, when we focus too much on survival or a false sense of safety within our defenses, we start accepting the defense state as our norm. The danger of being in the defense state for too long is that we risk settling for what little we have and burying our imagination and hope for a more just world. Even on a biological level this is unsustainable and limiting: the body’s response to a constant state of defensiveness is fatigue, illness, and a focus on everyday survival that makes it hard to dream about long term solutions.
To that end, some BIPOC, especially those who are less impacted by mass incarceration, also support the system of police terror and incarceration to some extent. In a climate of fearful concern for survival, some BIPOC fall into the socialization that this system as our only option. Folks may gravitate towards this system out of fear of losing the little they already have, and others may be attracted to the lure of respectability via assimilation in the hopes of gaining more power to provide for their needs.
It is possible for anyone’s fear of harm to be exploited to maintain an oppressive system. Still, as demonstrated through the uprisings of this year, abolitionists, activists, and regular people who’ve had enough have risen out of their homes to take back the power in their vulnerability, moving past fear to channel hurt in a transformed state: anger and action. The image of protestors, dressed with street clothes and their hands up, facing lines of militarized officers with tanks and body arms illustrates this power boldly. The power in connecting in solidarity and putting vulnerable bodies on the line to claim the narrative has already moved mountains.
Using vulnerability as our power
Activists, organizers, and community leaders are showing us concrete actions we need to be taking now and every day to overthrow systems of oppression and to create true justice for Black, Brown and all oppressed communities. As Equity Designers, we want to keep in mind that a healthy relationship to vulnerability is key to aligning ourselves with equity work. Protecting the survival of our communities is fundamental. Still, embracing vulnerability is also key to unlocking the true potential of our collective power. Regardless of external circumstances, working in generative ways with our own vulnerability will help us tap into the power already within and amongst us collectively.
What can vulnerability and looking within teach us about the power we already have? For one, we can begin decolonizing the hyper-individualist values that many of us have been taught and instead start building power amongst the people. And perhaps more importantly, allowing ourselves to go within to our most vulnerable places helps us shed the defensive walls and tend to the deep healing we need.
Many of us BIPOC have already been doing the deep inner work to fight for our collective liberation. And for others, we may be only beginning to awaken to the conditions of society as it really is and the power within the people to create the change. Regardless of where we are on our journeys, vulnerability can continue to help us stay in the work.
How do we access vulnerability without getting overwhelmed by the risk?
While we have absolute faith in the power of vulnerability, we are also clear that vulnerability opens us up to injury. This is inevitable. However, the goal is not to eliminate risk entirely, but to manage the risk so we can choose to tap into the power of connection and authenticity in our social justice work.
Some of the most effective tools for greater connection — like restorative justice approaches and cross-racial coalitions — — require the vulnerability of participants. In lieu of completely eliminating the risk of harm, we can set up collaboration in ways that maximize safety and make vulnerability approachable instead of overwhelming.
These containers can be process-based, such as spending adequate time on agreement and culture-setting amongst a group. Or they can be physical, such as a classroom with positive images of Black achievement that make it easier to explore painful history. They can be emotional, such as the presence of skilled facilitators or emotional care workers during difficult conversations, or even a friend to listen actively as one shares a personal story. The possibilities are endless, and investing in conversational containers that make vulnerability possible, including our own emotional coping skills, will continue to enable us to take advantage of its power.
Design as a tool for container building
Design as a tool can help us consider the varying factors in building containers for people to solve complex problems. Reflex is exploring Equity Design as a way to enable folks to take on inequity with vulnerability at the center.
Design contains tremendous power in making creative decisions, yet it is inherently a vulnerable process. It requires designers to navigate uncertainty and face the risk of failure as we learn through trial and error. It requires designers to test their assumptions and face the risk of being wrong. Within the context of equity design in particular, Equity Designers [learn more at this link] often draw on the wisdom of their lived experience of oppression-related harms, as well as the resilience of their lives and communities. Even those coming to an Equity Design challenge from a position of privilege must take the risk to examine their biases, what they don’t know that they don’t know, and ways in which their intentions may not align with their impact. (For more on this, see Creative Reaction Lab’s post on Equity Designers + Design Allies [learn more at this link])
Equity Design is just one of many ways to challenge oppression by working through generative relationships. Vulnerability is what allows that collective creativity to thrive. We’ve seen this dynamic in our projects that involve co-designers working together across different social identities, and do our best to create a process in which this process can proceed with as much safety as possible, with those most impacted by oppression at the center.
This is something we continue to learn about as we go, and we’d love to hear if others are on a similar journey. This is an open conversation and not a conclusion; let us know your thoughts in the comments.
Other Resources — Shout out to these folks doing the work!
Abolition
Abolition Journal — https://abolitionjournal.org/studyguide/
Anti-Police Terror Project — https://www.antipoliceterrorproject.org/
Black Lives Matter — https://blacklivesmatter.com/
Critical Resistance — http://criticalresistance.org/
Intro to Abolition materials (BATJ) — https://batjc.wordpress.com/readings-media/
Movement 4 Black Lives — https://m4bl.org/
Prison Renaissance — https://www.prisonrenaissance.org
General
Asians4BlackLives — https://a4bl.wordpress.com/
Black Feminist Thought in the Matrix of Domination by Patricia Hill Collins — http://www.oregoncampuscompact.org/uploads/1/3/0/4/13042698/patricia_hill_collins_black_feminist_thought_in_the_matrix_of_domination.pdf
Center for Political Education — https://politicaleducation.org/
Guide to Solidarity with BLM — https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ENLgHS5jjxRjZcshk5Wpre7ieAolJ1krNWm9uipsJVs/edit#heading=h.p7fcm4q39eml
Rockwood Leadership Institute — https://rockwoodleadership.org/
Teachers for Social Justice — https://t4sj.org/
Restorative and Transformative Justice
Bay Area Transformative Justice (BATJ) — https://batjc.wordpress.com/
Restorative Justice for Oakland Youth (RJOY) — https://restorativejusticeontherise.org/resources/restorative-justice-for-oakland-youth-rjoy/
STRONGHOLD — http://www.wearestronghold.org/
Re:Store Justice — https://restorecal.org/
North Oakland Restorative Justice Council — https://restorecal.org/
Just Beginnings Collective — http://justbeginnings.org/
Equity design
Design Justice, A.I., and Escape from the Matrix of Domination by Sasha Costanza-Chock — https://jods.mitpress.mit.edu/pub/costanza-chock/release/4
Design Justice Network — https://designjustice.org/
Equity Design Collaborative — equitydesigncollaborative.com
Designing Justice + Designing Spaces — https://designingjustice.org
Give Directly: Canteen Support for Incarcerated People during COVID19 by Re:Store Justice
