Confronting Myself
Yesterday was blackout Tuesday, something I didn’t even know about until I saw social media filled with pictures replaced by black screens. My social media friends updated their stories with supportive messages, resources, and examples of past injustices. They loudly denounced racism, they told everyone they couldn’t believe it was still happening, and they proclaimed that they would never, have never, supported racism. As I scrolled, it was one black square after another. If I can be totally vulnerable with you, I was immediately filled with anxiety. I saw friend after friend with this square statement. My first thought was I better update my status now, or I will look like I support racism. But I had this lingering doubt, this reticence to do it. That made me really uncomfortable with myself. I was angry with myself for not jumping on the bandwagon and couldn’t figure out why I would hesitate.
I spent most of my free time yesterday mulling it over. Both angry with myself and needing to figure out why I felt this way, and I finally came to some conclusions. I don’t want to assume anyone else’s motives, so I am just going to speak for myself.
I see the value of these movements. To spread awareness, to gain attention, to create change, we need these movements to create space in a busy life for people to be aware of what is happening. Movements are good and necessary. In the past, it was civil rights marches. They each had their own slogans. Today we have hashtags. And even though friend after friend was outraged and used each of the hashtags, visibly showing support, still, I hesitated. It felt too easy. It cost me nothing. It is easy for me to update my status, post my picture, use the hashtag, and then check the box as having done my part.
I realized the first reason I wanted to update my status was not to show support, but because I wanted to be sure everyone knew I was showing support. I was about to make this movement about me. It wasn’t that the movement was wrong, it was that my motivation was wrong. I was scared to look like I wasn’t being supportive.
I do believe that racism is alive today. I don’t want to pass the buck of fixing our society’s mistakes to yet another generation. It has to stop somewhere. But I wonder how I can help fix society without first examining myself. WIthout first admitting where I have been culpable in this problem. And how can I examine myself if I am busy proclaiming that I would never be racist? How can I be honest with myself with my past errors, my past guilts, if I am not willing to admit that I have been part of the problem? How can I change anything if I am not willing to allow space for me to change myself?
One of the reasons, I believe, that we keep passing this issue on to the next generation is because we are ready to admit where other people have been racist, where others have failed, but not ready to look inward. And the thing about a pervasive problem is that it is hidden in little things that become so normal, that we don’t usually see them. They are just the way things are. The only way to fix them is to listen to those who have suffered them and then examine ourselves and admit where we need to change. Admit where I need to change.
I want to be part of the solution, and I’m not exactly sure what that looks like. But I am going to start by listening. I am going to begin by looking at me. Even writing this post, I am going to have to examine my own motives. It won’t be easy to fix this problem, and it should cost us, society, all of us, something. Admitting that I hesitated will probably cost me some friends and followers. Admitting that my motives for wanting to update my status to a black screen were selfish will probably cost me more. I’m embarrassed that I had them, but I won’t keep making excuses for them. It’s time for that to change.