color blind or color mute: when and why to speak up about race

‘I don’t even noticed that your black’…these words were spoken to me by my partner early on in our relationship as we pondered which of our many differences made the most impact  on our day to day lives. Hearing this, I was instantly drawn into my 16 year old world in which a friend had just uttered the same…this phrase would  then go on to become painfully familiar to me throughout the next 16 or so years in between.

I understand the intention of their statements, likely an attempt to underscore the lack of vision regarding the color of my skin. They were trying to tell me that my brown hued exterior made no difference in how they saw me as person, partner, or friend; unfortunately, such conversation did nothing more than work to erase me, as I was. I imagine that others share this experience with me, on one side or the other. It’s an odd and awkward place to be on the receiving end and up until recently, I never really knew how to respond.

When identifying my racial or ethnic background, it is important for me to identify and/or label myself as being Black. I do this because my experience as a black woman fully informs every single aspect of my life. Labels, while sometimes limiting, also serve to create a lens through which others see and hear us.

When posed with the consideration of when and why to speak up about race, this is what I have to say: to be blind is not helpful. I need you to see me. While you may not understand what you see and while you may even be uncomfortable, I still need you to look and then I need you to see. In the dictionary, there are several definitions of the word blind, yet there is one in particular that stood out to me and that is the ‘lacking of all consciousness or awareness’. My challenge to you today is this, while you are conscious; make the choice to be aware. Don’t erase me for your comfort, or think you are doing so for mine.

To be mute is also not helpful. I need you to speak up and speak out. The word mute refers to a speech disorder in which a person lacks the ability to speak; thus rendering said person incapable of doing so. For me this implies a desire, yet inability to speak. So I ask-when you see injustice and inequality are you quiet due to the inability to speak? Do you not know what to say? Or do you remain quiet simply because you can?

I believe it is often the privilege of the majority that leads one to silence. When clothed in privilege, it doesn’t appear that you have anything to loose, particularly when silence provides the illusion of comfort and protection. However, I argue, in the words of the late, great poet Audre Lorde “your silence will not protect you”

So what are we to do?  In this post modern melting pot of a society, we are encouraged to assimilate and become one. We have yet to discover the beauty of unity within difference. We don’t know how to comfortably acknowledge ‘when one of these things does not look like the other’ and we are taught to search for our similarities and push away that which may remind us all of our individual and unique make up.  We blend and perfect fitting in. I know I did this and often still do when it comes to my speech. I’m very aware of my words and how they sound…I know the difference between sounding proper and the free use of Ebonics. When I was a child, I used ‘fix’ my lips in an attempt to make them smaller. It was as if I was a partner in the design of becoming colorless…invisible. In reality, it was me making myself –and others comfortable through the disappearance of my true self. Activist and author Lani Ka’ahumanu concludes that ‘assimilation is a lie; it is spiritual erasure”.

Approximately a week after my partner so lovingly informed me that she didn’t noticed the brownness of me; she brought up the conversation and apologized for her words. She shared that after a few days of contemplation, she realized that by saying what she said, she was taking away who I am. She acknowledged the value of seeing my color.

Speaking up about race can occur in many different forms. It’s acknowledging the surface characteristics of another’s skin, its taking pleasure in a different dialect or language, it standing up against a slur and injustice…it is drinking in the sweetness of culture that stitches us all together.

It is okay to see. It is okay to speak. We do this now and we do this tomorrow, because we all deserve and desire to be seen.

*Presented 11/14/10 @ First Unitarian Universalist Church-Columbus, Ohio*

the privilege of the oppressed...

Edit

the privilege of the oppressed...

by Erin Spencer Upchurch on Wednesday, September 22, 2010 at 1:11am

tonight, as i contemplate with the failure of our government to protect its citizens i am simultaneously challenged with thoughts regarding my community.

are we arrogant, idealistic...or a little of both?

i too feel angry about DADT, DOMA and ENDA. i remain frustrated regarding the EHEA in Ohio and the lack of safe schools for our children. i continue to be hurt by the pastor of a church i attended in college who used the word 'faggot' at least once a month. i hate that hiv/aids continues to ravage our community.

to be clear, i am not diminishing your anger, hurt, frustration, disappointment, poverty, isolation, etc...

i write this as someone clothed as a multiple minority who is educated and fascinated with community, social movements and the revolution. i write this as a concurrently marginalized and privileged womyn...

we are lazy,spoiled brats.

we are a community that attends fancy dinners and galas, we gather signatures via email and communicate through multiple mediums of social networking. i can't think of one movement for social justice that succeeded in such a cozy manner.

people have given their lives (literally and figuratively) so that i have the freedoms i experience today. folks have gone hungry for me to use non segregated bathrooms and water fountains.

today i ask you...

• when is the last time you signed a paper petition, better yet got your ass from behind the computer and collected signatures yourself? in the cold? in the rain? after a 12 hour work day?
• how much money did you spend on your clothing for the last gala you attended and why do lgbtq youth make up such a large portion of the homeless community?
• have you volunteered yet for this midterm election?
• how often to speak out against discriminatory and hateful speech?
• when is the last time you participated in a condom raid?
• when is the last time you stopped eating to make a point?
• what have you risked to make a difference?

we use facebook invites to build for a rally or protest...there was a time when folks had to secretly plan such things for fear of death or imprisonment. calling legislators and sending letters are great-and necessary; but what about sitting outside of said lawmakers office until they make the change we desire?

we worry so much about what we look like, whose giving what, whose chairing what, who makes what, what martini we will have this weekend and don't worry (in my opinion) enough about our rights and our equality.

a movement moves...a revolution revolts.

this will mean different things for different people. not everyone can do the same and we weren't created to so.

all i'm asking is that we take a moment and think about what it is that we are doing.

could my money go elsewhere? could my gossip turn into planning? can my creativity be a wave?

this is not judgment. this, is passion.

empowerment (transgender day of rememberance 11/19/09)

When I consider the word empowerment, my mind is drawn to the warriors of the past who undoubtedly left their mark in history. Strong, brave individuals with one trait absolutely in common: they refused to let another control their destiny.

Audre Lorde once said “If I didn't define myself for myself, I would be crunched into other people's fantasies for me and eaten alive.”

Daily we get up and go out into the community, working to carve for ourselves safety and freedom. We stand up against injustice, we speak out against discrimination, and we challenge ignorance. Freedom, however, comes at a price. The cost can be our voice, our time, our resources, our love, our lives. To quote revolutionary Angela Davis…”We know the road to freedom has always been stalked by death”

We’re gathered here tonight to remember and honor our transgender warriors past and present. We remember their smiles; we honor their strength…and we now move forward empowered to make change.

Empowered to live

Empowered to speak

Empowered to be

Author bell hooks says “I will not have my life narrowed down. I will not bow down to somebody else's whim or to someone else's ignorance”

Empowerment is about reaching inside…deeper for some, nevertheless there is a reaching. It’s standing together as a community, and singing loud regarding issues of injustice. It’s walking tall as an individual and existing, however loudly you choose.

My favorite image of empowerment is that of a butterfly. Indulge if you will the image of transitioning. A butterfly begins as a caterpillar, a creature of the ground subject to feet, and the hands of children wanting to keep them as a pet. When its time, the caterpillar engages in the process of cocooning…now sheltered and hidden from the elements. While cocooning appears to protect, the caterpillar begins its own struggle inside. I imagine this to be painful as things begin to grow that weren’t there before, other aspects disappear…and this all takes place alone. Now wrapped up in a tiny shell, it is time to emerge and the task is to break through that which has kept it bound. It is through the struggle in which the now butterfly gains its strength. It is through the wrestling that beauty is unveiled. The butterfly flits around and lands where it pleases. In all its majesty it exists. It is through the dark, lonely, and hard times that this butterfly is empowered.

Living empowered means defining life on your terms. Not one of us should ever ask for permission to exist. Empowered people live and do so out loud. Simply the act of being, leads one to be empowered.

Today I empower you-regardless the stage of your personal metamorphosis-to stand…to live...to speak…to be.

I will end with my favorite quote from Audre Lorde:

“When I dare to be powerful-to use my strength in service of my vision, it becomes less and less important whether I am afraid.”

bell hooks wishlist

for those who know me, they know i adore...adore bell hooks. happily, i own 16 of her many books. my desire is to own every single book she's ever published.

                                                          me w/bell at OSU on 11/9/09

dear universe, this is my bell hooks wish list

• And There We Wept: Poems. (1978)
  
• Art on My Mind: Visual Politics (1995)
  
• Black Looks: Race and Representation (1992)
  
• Breaking Bread: Insurgent Black Intellectual Life (1991) 
• Homemade Love (2002)
  
• Justice: Childhood Love Lessons (2000). 
  
• Killing Rage: Ending Racism (1995)
  
• Reel to Real: Race, Sex, and Class at the Movies (1996)
  
• Soul Sister: Women, Friendship, and Fulfillment (2005)
  
• Space (2004)
  
• Teaching Community: A Pedagogy of Hope (2003)  
• We Real Cool: Black Men and Masculinity (2004)
  
• Where We Stand: Class Matters (2000)
  
• The Will to Change: Men, Masculinity, and Love (2003)
  
• Witness (2006)
  
• Yearning: Race, Gender, and Cultural Politics (1990) 

membership has its privileges...

...unfortunately (or not) the groups of which i am a member typically exclude me from said-perceived- privileges.


black
womyn
fat
queer
unmarried
lower-middle class...tonight i went to sign my children up for basketball at the YMCA. although it was passed the deadline to register, child support didn't arrive until today. so i go in, $120 in hand to learn that i must pay a $30 membership fee each just for them to be able to register and pay $60. also, this $30 doesn't allow them any other access to the Y...it just allows them to pay the higher fee to pay sports. i left feeling angry...angry at the rules...angry at the rules that feel deliberate and discriminatory...angry that i'd driven almost an hour trying to find the place...and angry that my partner and i-both with master's degrees-couldn't afford $180 for them to play basketball. something they were both excited to do. i then wondered...for whom are these sport set up? i began to think of chronic illnesses and the communities they impact the most. i thought about all the fat kids, not fat because of their natural build, but fat because they eat fast food and sit on the couch everyday after school. i thought about areas of the city smothered in gang violence and homicide as young adults never learned effective negotiation and social skills or had a group to which they belonged. i know-without a doubt- had i not been involved in sports as a child and teenager, my life would've taken an entirely different path. while i know this is my story, my experience is not one that is exclusive. what color are the majority of pregnant teenage girls? what is their families' yearly income? on whom are these 'community centers' focused?

there is the optimist club for the kids to play basketball, but girls under 2nd grade are only allowed to be cheerleaders. seriously. cheerleaders.only.

its sad that the systems of sexism, racism, and classism confront children at such a young age.

we fight so hard on current issues, the ones in our faces...marriage equality, health care, choice, but  i believe nothing will truly change until the very foundations of domination and oppression are shattered at their very core.

imperial­ist white-supremacist capitalist patriarchy


on a positive note:

the womyn at chipotle allowed me to use both 'buy on get on free' coupons tonight, even though the instructions said i could use just one. i appreciate her.

gender, etc...

Every day we receive an abundance of messages regarding gender; simply living in our world exposes us to diverse images and ideas about appropriate and desirable masculine and feminine identities. Gender is such a familiar part of our daily lives that it typically takes a deliberate disruption of our expectations for us to even question all that goes into it.

In our culture gender construction begins at birth with the assignment of a male or female label. Babies and children are then dressed, regarding to, and gifted based on which box they’ve been placed. Boys wear strong, bold colors; and girls wear soft non-threatening ones such as pale pink or other pastels. Indeed, if a girl is involved in sports, and otherwise plays and dresses in a style exclusive to boys, she is regarded as a ‘tomboy’; clearly denoting that she is existing outside of her assigned role of girl.

There was a time when I would vehemently regard gender as a socially constructed experience. I didn’t believe in biological factors outside of physical appearance and thought that even those were in part due to our socially assigned roles. In May 2002 I was gifted with my son Jeremiah. In true post modern feminist form, I worked hard to ensure a gender neutral, non-androcentric environment. I insisted that his crib and dresser were white and that my family only buy him clothing in shades of green or yellow. I did this again two years later when Alex was born-not allowing for the traditional pink and flower decorations exclusive to the birth of little girls. Together, I was sure to allow them play time with each other’s gendered toys. Jeremiah would carry the dolls and Alex enjoyed crashing trucks into the wall.

Then, something happened.

Around the age of two and a half they began to question gender. My daughter wondered why her big brother had different parts than she. She was curious regarding my parts and wondered when hers would look like mine. It became important for her to identify as a girl and to then act accordingly. Dresses, the color pink, tap shoes-she couldn’t get enough. She loved and continues to love playing mommy with her dolls; a working mom that is. My boy, he’s a gentle as they come emotionally yet consistently asks when he can play football. He’s obsessed with his muscles enjoys getting dirty.

Imagine my chagrin when I realized my children were, in many ways, conforming to gender roles and stereotypes.

To be clear, they are both happily fluid in their personal expressions of gender; however absolutely identify as girl and boy. This was nothing I did or didn’t do. Sure society impacts all that we do, but for these children gender identification became more than a response to their environment. For them, expressing who they are internally, lines up with what they express externally. In text books this is known as gender stability-the time when children realize that they are who we say they are.

What happens when, as a child, that stabilization stage never occurs? What happens when the little one, assigned as a boy, really wants to take ballet lessons and wear his momma’s makeup? When the girl would rather starve then be placed in the pretty dresses she received for Christmas? What are we doing when cross gender imagination leads to cross gender reality? I would like to believe that I would allow my little ones to explore, but in society is there really room for this to comfortably and safely occur?

At this point, I acknowledge that there are varying components that lead to the construction of one’s gender. I also understand that like revolution, gender construction is not a one time event. Even as a cisgender individual, it is important for me to go beyond roles and physical attributes and identify as a person who is very strongly woman-identified. For me this communicates that I go beyond passive acceptance of my womanhood, and choose to embrace and feel empowered by it.

As a society we continue to exist in and perpetuate gender binaries. Although this is often done unintentionally and is a result of our personal socialization, we must do more in making space for those who don’t fit inside of their assigned box of gender. I contend that we either throw away all boxes or work to create new ones, inclusive of all. I challenge us all to do more in the face of gender diversity-Explore. Educate. Advocate.

disappearing act

where have i been? that's an excellent question...new job...newish relationship...new degree...new figure...i guess i have been quite busy, however something yet feels undone. i feel as if i've lost my impulse to create. i've become a responsible routine oriented partner and parent and my colors seem to have flown out the window. i miss writing poetry admist a sink full of dishes and moving aside piles of laundry to find a blank canvas. its almost as if a relationship has ended. i never asked for the ability to create, it is a desire born within that has quite literally saved my life. its like a drug, once discovered, i've always searched for the next great high...like crack it remains unattainable so i must continue in pursuit of my bliss. as a recovering close minded evangelical (not all evangelicals are the same, i'm only speaking to who i was) i often give thought to the term 'born again'. as i get older, i realize that we experience multiple births throughout our lives...continually becoming a 'new man (womyn). we are reborn not only in our relationships with god, but also in relationship with self. there is so much on the inside of us...something unique and often hidden...i suppose the question is really in the hiding. do we hide ourselves or are we only undiscovered?