We Will Keep Trying

 Still working along on re-educating myself out of racism and being a child of the 1950s. I rarely read back to my previous posts but a couple of things have surfaced for me. One, on the day of my father's funeral and aftermath in May 1970, I was molested by an old man neighbor when my Mom sent me over to pick up some of his flowers he'd offered. He made it his business to envelop me in a groping hug that didn't even have the pretense of comfort. And then two men who worked with my Dad made lewd comments about what I was wearing, which was hippie clothes that didn't include a bra.I'd stopped wearing bras earlier that year, at college. I was 20, and probably seemed flirty, from the male perspective. But seriously? I had just lost my Dad. I was prey. 

I told my Mom but she was not present at the time to take over the role of protecting her four daughters, but obviously those men knew that my father was no longer in that role, and they felt empowered. it was beyond disgusting and is seared in my memory. There were other things that happened at that time but it didn't occur to me that the timing was cultural and not accidental. Women, especially young women, were prey. That cultural truth stayed constant all through those liberation movements and even our young male allies had to learn a lot to not treat us that way. Much of it is still in place, as we all know and are fighting every day to unveil right now. Not everyone is being triggered by it...just nearly all the women and half of the men. The good people are fighting. The bad people are lying. 

And we've internalized that sexism and predatory behavior, and exhibit it ourselves in subtle or overt ways, when we gang up against each other (those Mean Girls) and do that thing where instead of elevating other women to share whatever success we've had, we try to dominate them. Being evolved is not doing that anymore. It takes work, and removing ourselves from that dominating culture. Bringing each other along. Not taking away what we resent seeing in others. I used to find that in my market community but I don't find it as reliably as I once did. 

These things intersect, as we've learned. The dominant culture of whiteness lets women get into spaces only if they dress and style themselves in acceptable ways. We all feel that pressure and it's hard to resist. I just finished a memoir called The Family Outing by Jessi Hempel that brought back lots of the scenes from childhood that stuck with me like that day in 1970 did. So many scenes I don't want to relive.

In learning to be anti-racist, I have to remember those things I was taught and put them together in a new way. In my schools, (the public ones; there were no Black kids in the Catholic school) the Black kids hung out together and we assured ourselves that was their choice. They didn't want to sit with us. And I'm sure that was true, for the most part. But my sister was dating an athlete and although he was white, they often socialized with the other athletes, the best of whom were the Black kids. She got lectured by my parents and the school officials that she had to stop doing that, for purity, though they didn't use that word. They suggested that her reputation would be ruined and not only hers, but the guidance counselor told her I would not get into the college I'd applied to (Purdue) if she didn't stop being friendly to those kids. I'm pretty sure we recognized that it was a preposterous thing to say, but he was probably capable of not recommending me or some evil thing, looking back. All the adults agreed that it was not "good" for her to be that naive. We always tried to be good girls, but somehow, we never were good enough.

I have a better understanding of all of that now that almost 60 years have passed, after I found out we lived in a restricted neighborhood, after I found out there had been a lynching within a few miles of our house. The adults knew about those things, and knew that the kids didn't sit by themselves because they preferred it. They could have told us the truth, but they didn't. 

And after reading more about the settlers in Nebraska, (in another book, The Antidote by Karen Russel) which included my Mom's family, clearly the Pawnees hadn't left those lands happily by choice, as she learned as a kid and didn't question. Her family, from Poland, Austria and Czechoslovakia, were used in a war to destroy those cultures and claim their land, even though they didn't know it and were lied to. It's possible it never occurred to them, or if they questioned it, they were told lies that were easy to believe.

The deal is that people who use power over others will lie to do it. They will feel justified in doing so. And most of us just follow along in confusion and in wanting safety and acceptance. And often we let those lies go unchallenged. Not right now though.

I know I do a lot of the things racists do during their transition into better awareness. I give my credentials (I met and hung out with Huey Newton and other Black Panthers when I was in college.) It's a good story and I have a lot of kind of amazing stories from my twenties that ought to be told, maybe. They all make me feel very uncomfortable now. I was also being used and put in danger by the culture while it tried to make the huge changes toward real justice and equality, and for some of it I was willing. 

I wanted, and still do, to be one of 'the good ones." I'd grown up learning and loving the music and dances of the mid-to-late sixties when so much great art was coming out of the communities of color in my area (near Philadelphia.) I envied that rich culture and as a hippie, I stole whatever parts of it I wanted to. Most of us swore we were re-incarnated dead Indians, something deeply embarrassing to me now that I know more about native cultures. Um, no way they would want to come back as some little privileged white girl, sorry. I made jokes about the lack of culture I came from...Polack jokes were popular, and my Dad's Kentucky origins were no higher in status. We were just working class people who refused to accept our reality. We bought into the status aspirations coming at us from advertising, TV, and everywhere.

I remember two big fights I had, one with my Dad and one with my affluent roommate, about whether or not I could tell the difference between butter and margarine, and how that mattered. A very hidden metaphor in there. We were middle-class but thought we were poor, as my Dad valued his sailboat a lot more than our braces or what we needed to be acceptable. He didn't really care what other people thought,  except he really wanted to win all of those sailboat races. And sleep with those married women.

Predators. They're everywhere, and that is why we try so hard not to be them. We try hard to figure it out when we are bodying those behaviors. We try to train ourselves to stop. I remember during the pandemic, when people were getting off the sidewalks for each other, but I was also trying to train myself not to get off the sidewalk for men, something women routinely did then, still. I started getting off the sidewalk for Black men, though, once I realized that other layer. I was performing, but at least I was heading in the right direction.

Performing anti-racism is part of the transition, as we learn how to counter the programming we learned so well. Loving Black  and Native art and music and fashion and traditions and foods and cultures is good to do, when we get there in an authentic way and not as copycats, appropriators, and thieves. It takes some practice, and it's going to be awkward. I remember in my first discussions of CA and LGBTQ+ policies and practices, I insisted that women were also oppressed, so...

Well, they are, but that was not what the conversation was about right then, so that needed to be set aside. As a white woman, I was trying to center myself, as usual. I needed to be important. I didn't know how to use my power, or even that I had any. I didn't think I did. 

So even if I only do deep educating for one month a year, or when I occasionally read a new book or article, I have to keep doing it. I'm just not there yet. I don't know if I'll get to the place where I am authentically operating in justice and equality with other humans. I'll still do and say things I want to take back or apologize for, things that hurt people out of my ignorance. I'll still sit in my selfish desires to be safe and joyful while other people carry a bigger load. But I'm going to keep trying. There is so much to do, so many ways to work at it, that anything I do will help, and it gets easier. We can get better at it. We have to keep trying.