My kids are watching Ratatouille. I’m listening to India Arie and writing about race.
Such is life in June 2020. The mundane and the world changing happening all at the same time wether we want it to or not. The constant internal ache of existing in the midst of a pandemic and an American race revolt we cannot and do not want to ignore. The endless nostalgia of wanting things to go back to how they were 4 months ago and the insatiable desire for permanent and necessary change coexisting in some sacred and ancient melting pot of emotions and politics. The two don’t mix well, but here we are.
And in the midst of that, I am grateful for amazing friends. Thoughtful, inspiring, educated, passionate, sensitive, empathetic, motivated, cutting edge, loyal, honest damn smart friends who have opened up space in themselves to talk about pertinent issues regarding the current status of racism and privilege and policing with a no holds barred and zero judgement mentality.
I had a picnic in a van 2 days ago. Eating Cubans, lounging on a blanket with the sliding door swung open wide enough to let in a breeze, but blocking the incessant and combatant Northern Nevada wind, which threatened the very existence of our conversation. Dust blowing on the ridge, sagebrush bending, lake water white and choppy against the crusted shoreline. Perfect weather for a discussion regarding childhood baggage, future professional desires and 311 new Instagram profile followings in the past 3 days. He’s a photographer, which explains my connection. He’s black, which more than likely explains the recent connection of the 311 others.
“Meh” he answers with a shrug, when asked how he feels about the sudden interest of strangers. And the conversation progresses into an invaluable discussion regarding race and art and the desire to be valued for his work as a photographer, not because he is black. “If your work is good, it should be highlighted for being good. Black, white, female, male. No matter what. You don’t have to be the best black photographer. Just be the best photographer. Period.”
“How are people even finding this $hit,” I ask, inflamed by the idea that people are just randomly searching for black artists to feature on their social feed because it’s ‘cool’ and that’s what everyone else is doing. Come on. Are we in middle school, people? Are we simply engaging the deep and multilayered issue of systemic racism by fleetingly posting a quick image of some artist we have no connection to but feel like we need to join the ranks of every other white person in America who feels it is their new passion and duty to say they know someone black even if they don’t? I’m pissed, honestly.
And part of the beauty of it all is that he isn’t. He isn’t irrationally and emotionally reactive. He is composed. Thoughtful. Gracious. He is a critical and sensitive thinker. He values the artistry and hard work of humanity, in the midst of race and gender. He isn’t complacent, but isn’t enraged. He somehow deeply understands the pendulum. It has been his life. His experience. To exist in the tension and realistic experience of being a black male in America, but not letting that define him. He isn’t overreacting. He isn’t under-reacting. He understands the nature of the current situation and holds space for those who need to deal with it and figure it out on their own, even if it is messy and incongruent.
And his very presence in that dynamic calms me; puts me in my place as a friend and fellow human, regardless of status, profession gender or race. It is a necessary and profoundly impacting place to take up residence.
And on the heels of that, not even 24 hrs later, I’m standing in my driveway with jumper cables on my car battery. My neighbor is over, car hoods pulled together, his Subaru engine revved, trying to spark a little something in the completely dead battery of my Dodge. We tinker around a bit, hammering here and there on the car starter, but to no avail. Dead. We haven’t seen each other since last Summer, but no matter, we dive right into the depth of the current status of the world. “How was protesting I ask?” making an educated assumption that he has been in the streets multiple times in the past 2 weeks. He teaches economics at the collegiate level. He’s been engaged in dialogue with students and colleagues and local politicians regarding issues of wealth disparity, race, gender equality, socioeconomic status, cultural development and more for 20+ years. He has attended rallies and political demonstrations and vigils and proactively taken a stance on nearly every issue that has taken to the streets for years. He’s white.
“Eh”, he responds with a similar shrug as my photographer friend. “It is a necessary empowerment for people, for sure, but the extreme emotional reaction is a hard place to continue to exist for much longer.” And thus ensues a longer strain of depth regarding emotional responses and significant policy changes and revolts and racial divides and privilege and the intricacies of education in regards to all that. He is a critical thinker, sensitive but solid. He engages the current racial explosions with a clear head and commitment to the longevity of change.
And within less than a 24 hr period, I realize how radically impacted I am by the thoughtful influence of the people in my life. To have important discussions. To be uncomfortable and comfortable at the same time. To not gloss over or ignore the boiling racial tensions in our communities right now, but to also not be bowled over by the intensity of it all. To not make fleeting, irrational decisions or spout out careless comments. They don’t care about making a statement on social media or showing they have a particular stance on things in the public sphere. Their words are calculated, thoughtful, spurring deeper conversations. Their thoughts are more conducive to internal change and depth of understanding. They are not putting on a face to be seen in a larger context. They just want to have conversations that influence.
These are the kind of people I want in my life. These are the kind of people I’m grateful exist. These are the kind of people I want to spend time with in deep discussions right now. These are the kind of people I want to be surrounded by. People who think critically, creatively and actively.
I may not ever put up a Black Lives Matter post. But, I can make damn sure that I am surrounding myself with people who know they do.
And that those people are rubbing off on me in ways I will never take for granted.