Confused White Girl Muddling Through

I had(/always have) so many good intentions to post here- connections between what I’m reading, what I hear/see on a daily basis, interesting interviews that make me say “whoaaaa” and shift my thinking, interesting interactions with visitors at the museum where I work that make me say “whoaaaa” and shift my thinking.

But then:

The kid won’t sleep

The laundry won’t stop

The computer is broken and writing long-form on an ipad or phone is exhausting.

And then before I know it I’m in the shame-spiral that is 

“I should post this...but first I should post that...And before that I should post that other thing...And also MLK day AND “Columbus Day” have come and gone and I had questions about those and is it too late now? Is it problematic if I don’t say anything about them? Also, is the word “problematic” problematic now? (And that’s not even getting into the novel I’m working on*/trying to work on.) I’ll post when I get the time.”

But I’m never going to have the time and, as the title says, intent is not enough. So, here I am, swiping 5 minutes of work time (I’m timing it) and instead of my normal time thefts (staring into space, looking at pictures of my cute kid, talking about civil war generals and their sexy facial hair with my colleagues), I’m taking this time to publicly own that I’ve been failing here, to move on and hopefully set a new precedent for myself of quick-form:

There’ve been a few times over the past few months where I heard something that didn’t sit well, and more than a few of those times, it came out of the mouths/minds of someone I care deeply about. One should never be afraid of tough conversations.

At the same time, though, change is hard. 

At the same time, though, dialogue (like education) is a two-way act. One which requires a balance of pushing and being pulled, of speaking and listening and alwaysalwaysalways kindness and trust. Sometimes, it’s Good and Right to stand up to a friend/family member/colleague and say “Not okay.” Sometimes, it’s Good and Right to give them the grace and space to have an off day without calling them on it. In my case, I am trusting that by acting what I believe** by loving this imperfect human and keeping conversation open, I will have a greater chance to change their hearts and minds. 

Is this a cop-out? How do you know when to “hold ‘em and when to fold ‘em?” What is your approach to the art/science of conversation and love with humans? 

*which takes place in 1860 and man the connections/parallels to our own time are uncanny...

SPOILER ALERT: I make mention of Star Wars, episode 8 here. While I do my best not to reveal specific plot points, I do use a few quotes. If you’re a person who likes to see movies pristinely, without even a hint of their content, then go see the new Star Wars before reading this.

Christmas Eve, C and I left the kid with her grandparents while we went to see the newest Star Wars movie. Maybe it was the fact that I hadn’t seen a blockbuster movie in theaters for 8 months, maybe it was the fact that the first movie I saw was filled with epic explosions, light saber battles and space. Maybe it was the fact that, for a variety of reasons primarily to do with time and availability I saw said movie in a newly renovated theater complete with rumble seats and 3d glasses. Maybe it was all the above. Whatever the reason, I spent much of the movie with my fingers in my mouth, half breathless and eyes full. This was the movie I needed.

An evil empire has all the power and all the resources to make it seem unfathomable that it would ever be otherwise. Rogues with questionable ethics use ill-begotten war money to revel in luxury. A varied group of resistors fights tooth and nail with skill, secrecy and humor to keep the spark of rebellion alive, even when it seems all is lost. Am I talking about Star Wars, The Last Jedi or the current state of affairs in the US? It could be either and that is why this movie matters.

Over and over again, the movie makes reference to the fact that the rebels know, at least for now, that they can’t win outright, outnumbered and outresourced as they are. Their goal, instead, is to keep the spark of rebellion alive, to preserve and spread hope. And it’s not just the “good guys” espousing the power of hope either. At one point even the Big Bad makes reference to destroying hope as a way to ultimately destroy the rebellion.

Though written in the halcyon days when we all thought George W. Bush was the most embarrassing the office of the presidency could be, Rebecca Solnit’s Hope in the Dark, like Star Wars, feels incredibly timely*. In the forward to the third edition, she reminds us that “Together we are very powerful, and we have a seldom-told, seldom-remembered history of victories and transformations that can give us confidence that yes, we can change the world because we have many times before.” This is why stories matter. And why the forces of oppression fear figures like Martin Luther King Jr., Malala Yousefzi, or Luke Skywalker. While Solnit is primarily talking about true historical events, I would argue that fiction, and especially speculative fiction matters too. There is a reason that so many dictators come down hard, fast and early on art, and especially on humor.We can’t change the world if we can’t imagine something different, and as Solnit points out, “memories of joy and liberation can become a navigational tool, an identity, a gift.”

It matters that despite devastating losses and overwhelming odds, the Rebels continue to fight, just as it matters that the newest installment in arguably one of the most famous franchises in movie history features people of color and women in roles historically given to white men. Kylo Ren says, “you are nobody, you come from nothing. You shouldn’t matter.” But Solnit reminds us that the forces of our oppression “…would love you to believe that it’s hopeless, that you have no power, that there’s no reason to act, that you can’t win. Hope is a gift you don’t have to surrender, a power you don’t have to throw away. “

So, go laugh, tell each other stories of hope, watch Star Trek Deep Space 9 (more on that later…), find, celebrate and cultivate joy, if for no other reason than it really rankles those who would see you defeated.

“This is how we win- not by destroying what we hate but by saving what we love

When I first started this site, I had a lot of good intentions and high goals for myself: I wanted to read more, respond/reflect more and to share this messy, imperfect process with the public. I had a posting schedule, a reading list, a handful of essays started. I vowed to only post original content for a whole host of well-intentioned and high minded reasons.

Then I had a kid. Did you know that labor is hard? Like, really hard. Like, running 10 marathons hard, only after the marathon, instead of curling up in a tub of ice with a beer and 5 pizzas and the warm glow of knowing ‘it’s over, you did it! Now it’s time to rest’, you come home with a whole. New. Person. A whole new person who’s super fragile and who depends on you for literally everything, literally every moment of the day. And who is heavy. Oh, and just to really ice this cake, if you’re the one who gave birth, there’s a whole cocktail of hormones and weird, leaky body things happening (doubly true if you are also breast feeding) to go along with the identity adjustment that you also have to reckon with.

But here’s the flip side: it’s absolutely magical. Seeing the world through A’s eyes, I’m reminded just how much wonder is waiting for us if we slow down and look (and listen carefully). And listen/look she does- I have never been more aware of what I say, how I say it, and imagining certain verbal habits coming out of her mouth has made me much more careful in how I talk, not just about other people, but also myself. She has also, unknowingly, reignited my passion to engage in issues of justice and equity- if I thought getting right with the world  was important before, it is doubly so now.

So I return, with fresh eyes, along with renewed appreciation for the messy, the complicated, the unfinished, and the belief that action imperfectly executed is better than perfect inaction. With that in mind, here’s what you can expect to see here:

I’m still going to preference original content, but give myself permission to share (and credit) those things which resonate or trouble my thinking, even if I haven’t figured out how to articulate it yet.

I am going to  think before ‘speaking,’ and do so out of a place of compassion, however, I’m also going to do my best not to get stuck in the mental Charybdis that keeps me from saying anything. This means I am going to mess up and say something wrong (which, let’s be honest, would definitely happen even if I overthought everything). Call me on it! Help me know better so I can do better! 

While still primarily grappling with issues of race and privilege, I am also giving myself permission to explore other “tough stuff”/”social justice issues”  that may be related, directly or tangentially, because really, it’s all related (As Majora Carter points out in her TedTalk)

In the spirit of being gentle with myself (Friends- did you know that raising a baby is hard? Like, really hard?), I’m not going to stick to a specific posting schedule, however I am going to try to share something, be it an essay, a reflection or even a question on a more regular (monthly?) basis. Again, here I ask for your help- if you see it’s been a while, please prod me and remind me of this public declaration of intent.

To one who spend the majority of her tender teen years with both with a band of intense evangelicals (a story for another day) and the escape provided by high fantasy novels, the word “Reckoning” inspires deep drama. Reckoning is an event, inescapable, it’s also a turning point. Given her interest and specificity in choosing the right word, I have to imagine this effect, or something similar, is what Eula Biss was going for when she titled her New York Times Magazine article White Debt: Reckoning With What is Owed-And What Can Never Be Repaid- for Racial Privilege. It was an interview about this article that led me to carve out this small space on the internet, and so it seems right that this is the first article I try my hand at responding to.

I took a lot away from reading this article, including more bread crumbs to follow (see below). The connection Biss makes between guilt and debt immediately resonated with me, particularly “how easy” it can be to live with. Like Biss, we too recently bought a house after a lifetime of trying to avoid financial debt- Recent enough that we own maybe half a bathroom and the hall closet downstairs, even after years of mortgage payments. Which, it turns out is just long enough to feel comfortable calling it “ours.” What really hit a chord in me, though, were the passages in which she talks about conversations with her young son about his own privilege. As I write this, we are mere months away from meeting our unborn child. For lots of reasons (another story for another day) we’ve elected not to find out the assigned sex until they’re born. The one thing we do know with certainty (beyond their aversion to sweets and preference for 5am dance parties on my bladder) is that they will be white. 

I am not sure which I feel less equipped to do- raise a white girl who will have to fight to maintain her agency, reproductive rights and safety from the patriarchy (without forgetting the women of color who have long been ignored in such fights), or a white boy who may very well grow up to be that patriarchy.

 When well-meaning folks respond to our intentional gender ignorance with “How will you know what toys to buy?” I wand to respond: “Forget about that noise- how will I know what kind of asshole we don’t want them to be, what kind of courage to give them?” Especially if they are a boy-, how will I raise him to be kind, compassionate and to resist what Biss describes as the encouragement, “...at every juncture in his life to believe wholeheartedly in the power of his own hard work and deservedness, to ignore inequity, to accept that his sense of security mattered more than other peoples’ freedom and to agree, against all evidence, that a system that afforded him better housing, better education, better work and better pay than other people was inherently fair.” 

This piece is filled with the question that rings in my head like a bell, that led me to start “Confused White Girl Muddling Through*”: “What can I do? How can I get past this useless, paralyzing guilt?” In response to her own question, Biss offers an interesting counter-question: “...why not imagine guilt as a prod, a goad, an impetus to action?” These days, when I can barely tie my own shoes, reminding myself of the debt I own and the privilege I enjoy is something I can do. I may not be able to stay awake past 9pm on most nights, but I can try to stay awake and make sure I don’t take what’s not mine without pause and try to avoid complying with unjust rules. I can and will do the same for our child. Like Biss, I can remind us both to temper pride with humility, to look outside of ourselves and “...to know the difference between compliance and complicity.

Breadcrumbs to follow: (These are works referenced in Eula Biss’s article. If you follow these paths before me, let me know@ We can talk over coffee or tea once I get there too)

On the Genealogy of Morality - Frederick Nietzsche 

The Condition of Black Life is One of Mourning - Claudia Rankine

How the Irish Became White - Noel Ignatiev

On Being White...And Other Lies - James Baldwin

...Found via link in the previously posted link. Adding to the threads to follow:

Langston Hughes - I too, am America

Gwendolyn Brooks - Speech to the Young

Last Tuesday, I had the put-a-fire-in-your-belly joy of hearing Dr. Angela Davis speak at Columbus State Community College. Unsurprisingly, Dr. Davis said many wise and beautiful and challenging things. I took notes furiously and will try to post my full notes later (especially for the moments I was able to get her own words down), but there are a few key moments that I’ve been chewing on;

Regarding the current state of affairs in Washington;

“We will have to resist like never before...we have to incorporate these routines (of resistance) into our daily lives...”

She then went on to say that acts of resistance should become like “brushing our teeth.” Last year at the Columbus Museum of Art’s Creativity Summit, I heard Dr. Melissa Crum make a similar comparison between anti-racist work and dental hygiene. As Dr. Crum said, : You may go to the dentist twice a year, but if that’s all you do- if you neglect the small, daily care- it’s not nearly enough. I love this analogy for two reasons-

It holds me accountable. As a Well-Meaning White Person, it’s too easy to donate to this cause or show up for this event and feel like “Go me. Showed up. Can check that off my list.” That kind of thinking serves only myself, and even then, not very well, as all I’m only delaying guilt instead of making real change.

At the same time, it makes the kind of change I want to see in myself and the world feel more accessible, like something I can get my arms around. Like many other WMWPs, thinking about the numerous racist institutions and inherent biases I carry around in my own head can sometimes be paralyzing- there’s so much work to do, what contribution can I possibly make? Speaking of change and dental hygiene, I’m reminded of Dr. BJ Fogg’s theory of ‘micro change.’  Though the radio story through which I first heard about Dr. Fogg was focused primarily on things like exercise and health, why couldn’t it also be applied to changing how we notice and react to our own biases?

Dr. Davis went on to say:

“...I don’t just mean resistance in the negative sense...”

That if we can’t hold onto a vision of a better, alternative reality, the world we’d like to see come to be, then we might as well not bother changing our current reality.

“Art and culture...remind us of the centrality of the imagination.”

Yesterday, as we’re making breakfast, my husband C asks,

“So...what do you think about what’s going on in the world?”

“Oh no...I didn’t listen to the news yesterday. What happened?”

Over cereal and coffee, we watch as Bob Schieffer, who seems as blindsided and incredulous as we are, questions Reince Priebus about the “travel” Muslim Ban. And I get both incredibly sad and incredibly angry.

But as Sarah Mirk of BitchMedia says:

“Then it passes, like a wave. It’s okay to feel sad. It’s okay to feel angry. But while some moments and hours and days are filled with despair, there are a lot of people who aren’t giving up now. His looming presidency means a lot of people will have to work harder to survive—to protect their rights, their bodies, and their lives. Let’s be right there with them.”

If you, like me, are looking for someplace to channel all this churnning feeling, here are some helpful, tangible actions you can take today:

10 Ways to Resist Donald Trump (the article from which the above quote was taken)

A list of ways to contact elected officials from Refugee Council USA

This blog is meant to serve as an online journal, a record of sorts to help me sort out how to engage in anti-racist work while also being white. Like most middle-class white people raised in small, homogeneous (mostly white) towns in the Midwest, I grew up thinking “Slavery was bad, but over and racists are also bad and easy to spot.”

Now, well into early adulthood I find my eyes are opened to the fact that as a white person, I have benefited from privilege I never acknowledged, caused harm through biases I didn’t know I had, and through it all have sacrificed learning how to have the kind of open, honest conversations we all need to be having to the altar of Politeness.

In her blog post Accomplices Not Allies, Judy Helfand says:

“Go do your own work and then when you understand things, come around and join the struggle for liberation...One central learning from “doing your own work” is recognizing how your own social location limits your understanding and you need input from many perspectives.”

And, in the words of writer Eula Bliss:

I still really deeply, fundamentally believe in bumbling your way through a conversation about this subject because I think it is so important. We just cannot be silent on this subject.

So, this is me, “bumbling my way though.” I already know I’m going to say something embarrassing and potentially awful here, so I ask that you, reader, whoever you are, lend me the space to mess up a bit. Beyond that, I invite you to mess up with me- let’s figure out how to at least talk about this stuff and through talking, move into action. 

Who am I?

An citizen of the United States feeling all of the ambivalance about her country.

A white woman

A “millennial” (though personally I prefer the term “nearly-thirty-something”)

An artist

An educator

A writer and reader

A person looking to make meaning and positive impact, while also grappling with how to do that.

Why a blog?

I’ve amassed a wealth of articles, blog posts, and book recommendations. I want to work through them, but beyond reading them, I want to internalize them. The best way that my brain does that is through reflective writing. I suppose I could just keep a journal, however...

Blogs are interactive- a way to crowd-source ideas, opinions, and general answers to the question “Did I screw this up? How do I make it better?”