Skip to main content

Reflecting on Where I Need to Go From Here: Enough is Enough

Image
By
Over the years, I've considered myself fairly educated and aware of the injustices in America, especially historically, but the older I get and the more I learn, the more I realize I know nothing at all. In admitting that, I am silent because I don't have answers for what we as a society should do. Instead, I am trying to listen and learn. 

I've noticed this is hard for people to do. I see it every time I teach workshops to my students, where they have to listen to the feedback of others while sitting silent. I tell them that if they sit there constantly trying to defend themselves and their writing, they aren't really listening to the critiques of their classmates. It's no different when it comes to this poignant moment for civil justice against the police brutality of black lives. If white people are constantly trying to prove "we aren't racist" or that "we're the exception" or saying "all lives matter", I don't think we are listening. If we can't listen to criticism and take it to heart, then we can't be allies. 

I'm not always going to do what is right, but I don't think that is the point. No one is expecting white people to be perfect, but we owe it to BIPOC, our children, and future generations to show up and keep trying. I know I've been silent and complicit because these issues don't directly affect my life. However, after the recent deaths of Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, and Ahmaud Arbery, I can't stand by and be silent anymore. 

Today, I watched the memorial service for George Floyd that took place in Minneapolis, and all I could do was go back and forth between anger and grief. I'm angry because things aren't changing, and what happened to George Floyd is inexcusable. I'm sad for what his last minutes were on this earth, and I grieve for his family and friends who now have lost a person they love. But what broke me was George Floyd calling for his mother in his last moments. I don't know what person can see that and not be moved. All I can imagine is what if that was my son? I can't imagine living with such fear for my son every day and because of my skin color that is one fear, I don't have to worry about. There are many things I worry about and fear for my son, but none of them will ever be that he will be hurt, disadvantaged, discriminated, or killed because of the color of his skin. 

Furthermore, George Floyd's daughter makes my heart hurt. She lost her father for no reason except abuse of power in a system that was never built to protect her, her father, or anyone that shares her skin color. This is unacceptable. Something has to be done. Things have to change. We all know this. 

But what as a white woman can I do? I struggle with this. How do I use my privilege to foster change?

Therefore, being a teacher and not knowing where to start, I ordered a few books: So You Want to Talk About Race? by Ijeoma Oulo, A Good Time for the Truth: Race in Minnesota, An Indigenous People's History of the United States by Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz, and lastly, Stamped: Racism, Antiracism, and You: A Remix by Ibram X. Kendi and Jason Reynolds. If I don't know much about something, then I need to educate myself. That is my responsibility and no one else's. Ignorance is a choice.
 
In lieu of this, another goal of mine is to learn more about history outside the white-washed version I was taught in school; this is for myself but also to improve my teaching as an English teacher since many of the books I teach are rooted in history. I am also reading Lies My Teacher Told Me by James W. Loewen. 

I don't know what else to do, but I'm trying to constantly reflect on my actions and my privilege. My journey will be riddled with mistakes, but I believe showing up is a start because enough is enough. 


Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Old Hurts, Old Scars, Still Healing

By
My therapist has said it a couple times now, but I'm pretty sure I didn't want to hear it. A possibility? Sure. Confirmed diagnosis? I don't think so. Slow down there for a second. Yet, as this time of year rolls around again - the family holidays and what not - I know deep down she is right.  I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  It's odd and yet liberating to say those words to myself let alone others. I have PTSD, and the traumatic events/time period is from almost exactly ten years ago.  How can something from ten years ago still be messing with my brain?  Perhaps, that may not seem odd to others, having their trauma affect their day-to-day life and demeanor, but I also thought my struggles were mostly, if not entirely, from my already established mental illnesses, depression and anxiety. Yet, it makes sense that all of these intertwine themselves together. I had depression and anxiety before that time period, but the increased symptoms and struggle around this...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Painful Relief of Saying Goodbye

By
 Well, it’s over and done with. I know losing a pet or having to put one down is a common occurrence, yet the pain is still sharp; the grief biting into me at different moments. One such moment was upon the return home from the vet. Coming into the house to see his paw prints in the snow, his other bed (because of course he had more than one), his food dish, and the eerie quiet without the jingle of his collar caused me to lose myself in uncontrollable sobs. Both Brett and I passed out from exhaustion at Jamie’s bedtime, which is why I’m awake in the middle of the night. I keep expecting to hear Baxter shake his collar and need to go outside. These past three or four months he needed to be carried and helped outside and back in. He would try to maintain his balance and usually fail, peeing on himself, and/or falling backwards on his back and scrambling, trying to recover his balance. Our linoleum kitchen floor became too slippery of a surface for his back legs that had lost their s...
Post a Comment
Read more

Teacher frustrations, struggles, and the need for kindness

By
 How is it still the year 2020?  As a teacher, I feel like this year has had a lot of lows. We went from in the spring caring about teachers and celebrating them for taking care of our kids and getting them lunches and doing the impossible overnight to now, we criticize everything that they aren’t doing well or enough of. Why haven’t they called the parents multiple times? Why is my kid failing? Why can’t we be in the building? Why do we have to wear masks? Why? Why? Whyyyyyyyyyyyy?  I get it. I really do. This isn’t the way we wanted this year to go. Parents are at their wits end, (teachers are parents too!), and teachers are starting to really question their choice of career or whether they should retire. I know I have at least thought about it, and I think others would be lying if they said otherwise. I’ve seen a few good teachers jump ship, and it makes me sad. Schools would be better with those teachers still in them. Yet,  I feel like teachers have become danci...
Post a Comment
Read more