The most exciting thing for me right now is that I am in the middle of free falling into the unknown.
At the AMC, I’ve had a chance to talk to people who are very critical and have a really amazing analysis, but who are ALSO invested in working out solutions and sharing strategies.
I’ve had an amazing opportunity to see where hardline borders are being built by people within my organizing community (which I say very loosely–i may or may not be directly organizing with these people, but we all known each other and are aware of the work being done and how our own work intersects with their work)…and it made me see that I am not invested in creating more borders. That I am interested in following the road laid down by Gloria Anzaldua–taking down the bricks and wire and cement of the border and building something new.
An example (all names and identifying features have been changed/removed): sitting in a room that holds woc and white women, several woc say to the room how hard it is to be in a room with white women. very very true. i struggle with the same thing. and then a woman of color who was “with” the white women made some jokes about how she’s “getting tenure” off of the proceedings. my skin curdled. i get how hard it is.
but.
suddenly, in calling out whiteness–an us/them dichotomy was created. white women–versus all of us.
and again–but.
the room is filled with a whole bunch of light skinned women of color. a whole bunch of heterosexual women of color. a whole bunch of cis women of color. a whole bunch of citizens. and in talking about “white women”–all of a sudden, an assumed alliance is created between women of color.
even as I KNOW women of color (not in that room, but in other spaces throughout the years) who have said shit like “the lesbians take up too much room and are too vocal” and light skinned women who have said “I don’t get what ‘those women’ are so upset about” (those women usually meaning black women), and dark skinned women who have said “you aren’t even a woman of color, shut the fuck up,” and holy JESUS how many times have I heard very POINTED critiques of women of color who have partnered with white people FROM women of color–as if who you partner with proves something (who the hell knows what?) about dedication to the cause?
I am in a very pleasant free fall right now–calling out whiteness? It has it’s time and it’s place. But I also live next door to white people, have white people in my family, and work with white people. And the traditional answers that woc organizers have “step back, prioritize woc voices, let us be the leaders…etc”–I ALSO know, those answers just don’t fucking work in far too many spaces.
What happens when there are simply NO RESOURCES?
In other words–If I tell a white woman that she is wrong to be doing X–what would I have her do as an alternative?
and even MORE importantly–what am I going to do about all the people whose lives that woman affects when she is no longer there?
another example: a white woman is providing a service in a largly poc neighborhood to almost all poc. If I tell that white woman to go away–that she is privileged etc–what am I going to do about the hundreds of people who no longer have access to the service she offers?
Especially when I recognize–I don’t have the resources, the money, the time, the energy, the organizing skills, the capacity–to do what that white woman is doing?
Are there huuuuuuge problems with the fact that white women DO have the privilege of time, energy, skills, education, etc? Yes. Do I want to work to create MY OWN tool box? Because I am sick and tired of never having anything to help myself? Hell yes. Do I not want any relationship with that white woman? Maybe–it all depends. Am I going to work to shut that white woman out of the community because she has privilege? Not unless I can find alternative sustainable resources for the people in the community who are going to that woman.
And frankly–until I can do something like find alternative sustainable resources? I am going to build a relationship with that white woman. Because she is a part of my community. My lived, real actual community. My community that DOES have white folks in it. And if we can’t learn how to hold white folks within our own communities accountable to their whiteness in ways that are sustainable, non-destructive, AND at the same time, powerful enough to influence change…the how in the fuck are we ever going to negotiate and deal with white supremacy?
I *knew* all this in theory. But…I am in a different space this year, where so much of the critiques about whiteness are directly connected to my real life work. And I’ve had to be accountable to more people than just people within “the movement”–I’ve had to apply the theories and learning to real world situations, not just inner community in fighting.
And it’s really opened my eyes in exciting new ways. It’s made me see that my rage, that my feelings, that my fear and my anger and my happiness…they aren’t that fucking precious. that *I* am not that fucking precious. That it is a *privilege* to have access to organizing strategies and communities–and if it means getting over my precious feelings in order to learn some strategies that I can bring back to my community–then I better fucking do it.
It means hearing the woman of color who made the crack about “getting tenure”–hearing her ENTIRE story–and not storming out or clamming up because I’ve been burned in other ways by academics and tenure. When I finally got to hear that woman’s story–it was the same sort of story as mine–only, more so. She grew up in and lived in the ghetto. She saw her community demonized over and over by the media. She saw how that demonization lead to more and more violence and lack of funding and more violence and more lack of funding.
And besides the fact that she liked the women she was organizing with–it was a political strategy for her to do so. And I could say: fuck that shit, you’re a traitor for working with them, you want to be white, etc–or I could say, “fuck them, come sit with us in our corner, etc. Or I could say–she knows what her community needs better than I do–and then I could TRUST that her community has ways to hold her accountable. That maybe in assuming alliances between women of color, it becomes really really easy for me to assume that this woman owes accountability TO ME and to the WOC in the room–rather than to HER COMMUNITY. which is not me, even if we are all people of color and poor and…
In many ways, I feel uncomfortable saying all of this. I’ve spent a LOT of time feeling very attacked in my organizing (because I WAS being attacked)–and I just know that right off the bat, somebody somewhere is going to say–but, you said you wanted to teach us and i’m never coming to this blog ever again–
and felt that I simply didn’t have the luxury of contemplating loose and flexible borders.
Or so I thought.
I re-read Gloria Anzaldua for the millionth time–and I realized–her theory of shifting, changing, flexible borders–it was not created in a “perfect world.” She was not sitting on the mountain top when she wrote that. She wrote that the same time another book called “loving in the war years” was written.
The war years.
And yet–for Gloria–the solution–the strategy for change– was shifting and flexibility and undoing and weakening borders.
The question wasn’t how can we build ourselves into a safe space–but how can we undo an unsafe space?
How can we learn to take up more and more and more space?
I don’t have any answers to these things I’m thinking and asking. But I am excited right now. I have uncovered a new layer of “unknown” to me, and have disloged a static moment in my life.
I am free falling into the unknown–I have no stability and no answers–except that there are answer(s) not The Answer. I am a kernel of sand sifting through somebody else’s fingers. I don’t know where I’m falling to, or what’s going to happen when I land.
And it feels really really good.
- Share
July 22nd, 2009 at 11:13 am #
big smile for you woman…
July 22nd, 2009 at 11:55 am #
thanks for this, mujer. i will be thinking about this for a while.
also, it was so good to finally meet you and chat about some of this in person!
July 22nd, 2009 at 12:14 pm #
Hmm..I thought about concentric circles and venn diagrams and water ripples. Of course, these are all models and you can’t confuse the model for the real thing. Also, random images only make sense to me. So what I mean is love and peace!
July 22nd, 2009 at 12:20 pm #
Thank you BFP for the clarity and ruthlessness in your writing! I read this and am forever grateful I stumbled upon your blog(s). Your words stoke the fire in my heart and fuel my resolve that in walking on my very own path, there too are answers for me and those who recognize the value of our connection.
I come from communities to long ago torn apart, that for too long had no choice but to invest in surviving, and so forgetting and denial was the best medicine. I am grateful for the privileges I have that grant me access to ideas and words, study and reflection that my communities didn’t/couldn’t access. Centered in my intersection of contradicting experiences, I choose to (at my own pace)undo the bordered walls I built that kept me safe. The undoing is powerful, and in the movement I find myself resilient and ready to remember my connection with all that is. The beautiful pain, the wretched joy, and everything in between. All of it, mine. Ours.
I’m not too tech culture savvie about how to share or if appropriate to share links to posts in comments – anyway, I ran into this post about Buddhist teachings this morning and was impressed with the clear surfacing of tensions – a la GA spiritual activist style. http://paramecw.wordpress.com/2009/03/05/ego-a-go-go/
July 22nd, 2009 at 2:02 pm #
I read all your posts and rarely comment. Actually, I generally type a huge thing in the comment field and then decide at the last minute not to hit “Speak!” because my words seem so paltry and insipid and clumsy and never add anything new or present anything original or profound. In this case, for example, I basically work myself in a circle and end up back where you started having only reiterated your ideas instead of responding to them. Pointless. But hell, I’m going to comment anyway!
–
Sometimes I feel like I am struggling with myself to say, “I have to stay the fuck out of their way,” while they’re struggling with themselves to say, “We have to let her in”. I feel like if both sides struggle in both directions we’ll eventually pull the barrier down, because we are protected and rewarded by each other’s struggle.
Also, this bit:
“Or I could say–she knows what her community needs better than I do–and then I could TRUST that her community has ways to hold her accountable. That maybe in assuming alliances between women of color, it becomes really really easy for me to assume that this woman owes accountability TO ME and to the WOC in the room–rather than to HER COMMUNITY. which is not me, even if we are all people of color and poor and…”
…is way past my level of analysis, which is probably why I feel such a foolhardy urge to engage with it. It reminds me of Lisa’s “We Are the Daughters” from the Speak! album – “[We were] the ones who knew community by faith, street, and fringe living – not by gathering, similarity, or food.” It’s true – community and common identity aren’t necessarily synonymous. Like you said, that falls apart quick when we consider what aspects of identity are counted and what ones aren’t. And as much as I sometimes cringe at someone’s politics, I’m not the one who really needs or is entitled to demand to see the fruits of their self-scrutiny.
And yet! I feel like there *is* some accountability in that room. I see Venn diagrams too – I see that while one person’s hood is not mine (and vice versa) and therefore that person is not accountable to mine and I am not accountable to their’s, sometimes we might step into a community together where mutual accountability does apply. And that community might be a conference room at the AMC.
Now, sitting in the AMC room, I might not be obligated to account for, for example, how I manage my privilege at my “real life” work or whatever, but I *am* accountable for what I do and say in that conference room, and if I say something that makes someone else feel unsafe with me, uncertain if they can trust me, I *will* feel accountable to them, even if the community I actually work in thinks I’m the messiah come early.
Because it might *matter*, in that conference room, if we are able to basically trust each other. It might have real implications on what gets done in that room and how people feel about it. Maybe it won’t matter as much as a bona fide community, but still. If that space has the potential for us to do/make something good together, or (inversely) to hurt each other, I think accountability comes with the territory.
On the polarized other hand, I say that with relative comfort because I’ll always be, pretty much, in the role of being accountable to others and very rarely in my existence will I ever have to actually call on others to be accountable to me. If someone makes an “off” comment and it freaks me out, am I actually going to go up to them and be like, “Hey, I am worried there is something wrong with your politics that might negatively affect people in your community, could you please reassure me even though I have nothing whatsoever to do with your community just so I know that I can stop glaring at you and connect with you during this session?” That doesn’t seem right either.
I guess, bfp, you had it right on – maybe it comes down to trust. Trust that either they know what they’re doing or that their community has mechanisms in place for accountability and self-work. But it’s so hard to swallow that kneejerk reaction. It’s so hard to not want to grill someone on what exactly they meant and where they stand. I feel like the snooty lady chasing after some passerby shouting shrilly “ExcUUUUUse me!” When, how, where, and for what are we accountable to each other? How does the effect the mechanism of “calling out”, whatever THAT means?
I don’t know, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. But I feel like everyone has sort of been lifted up and dropped into a new place, where the question everyone asks is not “what is the problem” or “what is at fault” but HOW DO WE MAKE THIS WORLD? How do we manage the space and differences between all the yous and mes to communify social justice?
I feel like I’m on the cutting edge – or an unfamiliar horizon – and it’s very, very exciting. I feel the urge to say “happy anniversary” to you or some other cultural variation of “welcome + congratulations + hurray” but it doesn’t even make sense. Hitting submit before the pre-emptive regret kicks in.
July 22nd, 2009 at 2:05 pm #
damn, girl. you know how to blow up whatever i am thinking. i like that though, new ideas and perspectives always come after that process.
i don’t know what to do about what happened that day at the amc (or before amc actually.) still want to believe in good faith even though i know i am naive. how can some people feel so much love and responsibility to other people and then other people not feel that or even see how they are creating unsafe situations? i don’t get it, except lines of community and solidarity are still being created and in flux. but how come all our definitions of community are so different? and how do we move beyond survival, while recognizing that people gotta do what they have to do? maia once said something about our lack of homogeneity being our strength and i beleive that, just so many questions.
and on white women… my partner at the truth and reconciltation workshop was a white woman. we had the same triggers and similar hurts— white straight men. still unpacking this but again, maybe all the lines aren’t that clear.
July 22nd, 2009 at 3:03 pm #
again, hermana, te amo… i really do. i wish i had been in that room with you, i wish i had been a part of the amc this year. quizas next year i will be ready.
reading this… i am crying. i’ve been crying a lot lately, dealing with so many feelings, addressing so much trauma, trying to work thru so many issues. i don’t know that i can deal with this right now because i have the pressing, immediate, burden and unpacking of rape/abuse/emotional betrayal/mental torture/erasement/debasement etc of the past 8 years that are currently quite literally killing me. but i wanna come back to this too. because i know i need it, i know our communities need it, i know everything you are saying here is true and that it is growth and steps, and that i want to take these steps contigo, in love & lucha, siempre a tu lado. gracias!
July 24th, 2009 at 12:39 pm #
listening really deeply to this
July 24th, 2009 at 8:27 pm #
*The question wasn’t how can we build ourselves into a safe space–but how can we undo an unsafe space?*
This really resonated for me, as this is a central question to the work I’m doing (and trying to do!) right now.
For me, it keeps coming back to this thought about resources. Not strength. Not being “healed.” But resources. Being marginalized means that there is no such thing as “trauma over.” We are continually facing new situations that can retraumatize us, and that can build on the old traumas.
I remember hearing or reading somewhere that a function of community is that when a person faces trauma, the community around them swoops in, closing around the person to help contain and process that trauma. And without that community to process that trauma, a person instead stores that trauma within their body. That contrast stands out for me so much: trauma processed in community vs. trauma stored within the [individual] body.
Indirectly, quizas, what I’m trying to get at is that we may lack resources such as money and we may face danger emotionally and physically that makes our work (and, hell, our very living) so very hard. But what are our resources?
I know that I am a survivor. I have *survived*. And I know that the other folks I meet–they are survivors too. Their stories tell tales of great strength, great resourcefulness, great creativity. And when we see ourselves as survivors, as resourceful and creative and *resilient*, I think that changes us. And when we come together based on our shared *strengths* instead of our shared *victimizations* then I see us change.
I see us taking risks, engaging in acts and relationships that we have run from in the past because we know that we are survivors. We are strong, we are resilient. We know when to not engage, and we know when to engage. And we know that any words that come out of a white woman’s mouth–they may sting and they may bite and they may even leave a nasty mark. But ultimately. We will *survive*. And we will become stronger for it.
And that, I think, makes all the difference. It allows us to embrace complexity instead of dividing the world [falsely] into “safe” and “unsafe.” There was a time that if it had the label “WOC” in it, I deemed it safe. And if it was a “white” thing/space/person, I deemed it unsafe.
Then life got complex, especially organizing with other WOC and seeing problematic, oppressive dynamics get replicated.
When we are able to embrace complexity, we are more able to fully integrate all the parts of ourselves, even the parts that we deem “bad.” I learn to embrace the white part of my heritage and to integrate it into my understanding of myself. I learn to look at the complexity of my class heritage and current situation and begin to heal the shame and deathly fear of poverty and to appreciate the opportunities/”privileges” I’ve enjoyed. I learn to love my son more fully and to embrace his masculinity and enjoy him as a male human.
And I am able to experience the most joyful, fulfilling, and challenging relationships, sometimes with people I really REALLY didn’t expect to be able to be in relationship with. Both in organizing and in my personal life.
July 26th, 2009 at 3:36 am #
Saw a book title recently: “When You Are Falling, DIVE.”
We can enjoy the experience of “sifting through someone else’s fingers.” Rather than panicking, we can stay alert and watch what happens.
I think that accepting and even appreciating uncertainty is one of the most powerful things we can do as human beings.
So happy for you, to be experiencing this in such a deep way. Especially because I think it means that not only are you trusting other communities to break down old borders and unsafe spaces in ways they see fit, but also that you’re trusting yourself, knowing that wherever you next “land” in your work and analysis, you’ll be all right.
Better than all right. You are a beacon, as always.
Thank you for this.
July 26th, 2009 at 5:05 am #
I remember hearing or reading somewhere that a function of community is that when a person faces trauma, the community around them swoops in, closing around the person to help contain and process that trauma. And without that community to process that trauma, a person instead stores that trauma within their body. That contrast stands out for me so much: trauma processed in community vs. trauma stored within the [individual] body.—-
oh! brilliant. brilliant. brilliant. i really am thinking about this…
July 29th, 2009 at 11:36 am #
She talked about loosing borders in order to make it safer.
There is also a experiment in england where they are doing something simular with road traffic. Rather than putting up signs to make cars slow down in the village, they took away the signs, changed the road and made it look more like a village, that caused the cars to slow more.
Sometimes it seems to work where when you fight something you make it stronger, like countries with big armies get into more wars than countries that focus on diplomacy.
There is a theory in martial arts where you take the energy and bend with it and turn it around, rather than stand against it.
Its seems with some of these social problems we want to find the way of the reed rather than the way of the oak.
However sometimes its very hard to see the way of the reed.
I might be rambling, but I hope you get what I mean.