What Can You Do Part 1

Hello! I tried to fix the formatting of the last post so that you didn't have to scroll too much to read the text that I had copied and pasted from a document of a different form... I hope it's easier to read now! 

When I wrote my talk, I was careful not to include action steps because I really am serious - I want people to think about what you can do with your own brain. But since I have something to say about pretty much anything, I have decided to share my thoughts on what you can, in fact, do. There are, however, two conditions:

1. Do not tell me that this isn't good enough. We as individuals can't individually fix the system, but we need to start somewhere. So... here's somewhere.
2. Do not tell me why you aren't doing it (if you aren't doing it). It's OK if you can't do everything you read on the internet. You probably shouldn't, anyways. But if you have the time to tell me you aren't doing it, you probably had the time to just do it.

With that in mind, my first suggestion is to call your senators and politicians regularly. At NEYM Sessions, I heard from Diane Randall herself - leader of FCNL - that our politicians do, in fact, like to hear from us - the humble and busy citizens. So we should write to them and/or call them regularly. I admit that I have used work as an excuse for being too busy to do anything, but I'm trying to make time to call or write to one politician once every other week. And when I get into that groove, I'm going to try to make it once a week.

Some of you may have seen posts on social media asking that we call to arrest the cops that killed Breonna Taylor, and I think that is essential. And I don't think there's anything wrong with continually calling and asking. But as much as I want justice for Ms. Taylor, I also want to see more money spent on education and food for children and other social services. So I am trying to call my politicians about a variety of topics that matter year-round in addition to the daily crises (police murder victims, a crumbling post office, etc). 

If this doesn't seem like enough, then I want to know what's stopping you from running for government office yourself!

Spoken on the Floor of Sessions

As mentioned, New England Yearly Meeting 2020 was focused on social justice with emphasis on anti-racism this year. Several individuals were asked to talk about our work in activism at various meetings for business, and was one of them! I have heard talk of these ministries being recorded and published somewhere, but I think everyone on sessions staff is recovering (as they deserve to). I am putting the words that I spoke here for you to read in the meantime. Most of you know me and can imagine my dramatic public speaking. 

Sorry it's so long, but I was asked to speak for 10 minutes (I don't think I took that long? But anyways)...!

 ...........

Non-violence is an important value of Quakerism. It always has been. So I feel like it’s an important thing to address today. I want to start by sharing a quote from Coretta Scott King; I want to publicly acknowledge Johnny Williams from Mt Toby Friends Meeting for bringing this to my attention!

In a speech in 1967 she said, “I must remind you that starving a child is violence. Neglecting school children is violence. Punishing a mother and her family is violence. Discrimination against a working man is violence. Ghetto housing is violence. Contempt for poverty is violence.” 

Back in 2016, I participated in City Year Boston; an Americorps program. I was placed in a trope-ic underfunded school full of poor people, immigrants, undocumented immigrants and limited resources, and I would describe my role as “extra body placed there to mitigate the chaos and run an after-school program.” For all you Bostonians, I was at the Hennigan K-8 in Jamaica Plain. This experience was rewarding but intense, and I will be drawing from it now to illustrate some of Mrs. King’s points. 

Since I was working in a school, it seems fair that I address her point about neglecting school children first. Most of my role as a City Year (a weird noun, but it’s what we used) was to work with a classroom teacher. Unfortunately, I was placed with one of those teachers who really need to retire. I did get the sense that she was a caring, interesting teacher at some point in her career, but by the time I met her, she was barely either of those things. My memory of the first day is that we sat around and introduced ourselves and she passed out one worksheet and then spent the next three hours on her phone. The majority of the year was spent like this; she would acknowledge the class when they showed up, and take attendance. If we were lucky, she would pass out something like a worksheet. Then she would retreat to her desk and sit on her phone and… within one to twenty minutes, my students were all bored and entertaining themselves in non-academic ways. Naturally the noise level would rise, and she would yell at the easy targets - the Black girls and the boys with ADHD - before returning to her phone. If she taught a lesson, it was often full of misinformation. Like one time, she said that the prefix “im” means to stop. So to migrate means to move around, and to immigrate means to stop moving and stay where you are. And she would forget which students didn’t understand English, and get mad at them for not listening. If, of course, she made the time to interact with them. 

There were other caring teachers in the building who were good at their jobs, and I tried to follow their example by teaching lessons of my own when I could. But when I tried to advocate for myself and my students, City Year told me I was not in an ideal situation and I should just do small-group sessions with a few students, the administration made it clear that they couldn’t do anything because of her tenured status and the teacher herself made it clear that the real problem was that our students’ mothers were crackheads. 

Several mothers actually showed up over the course of the year to investigate the lack of learning. Sometimes they made appointments; sometimes they showed up at the door. None of them seemed remotely high on anything. My teacher abused her power as the white teacher talking to these Latina and Haitian and Somalian moms, downplaying their concerns, telling them their children (who usually functioned as interpreters) were making good progress. And then telling me afterwards that these concerned mothers were just crackheads. Punishing a mother and her children is, as previously stated, violence. 

I want to remind you that in 2016, Trump got elected. I imagine this was a troubling time for most of you. I would like you to know that this was a terrifying time for the immigrant families in my school. The day after the election, I remember walking downstairs into the cafeteria to greet students, and being met with chaos. Usually, large groups of children sound like noise. That morning, the noise was full of fear and tears. Not first-day-of-school tears, desperate tears. A few younger children were refusing to let go of their parents, and school staff were floating around presumably trying to reassure people. I remember one of my students waving me over and saying hi. Normally her dad would walk her and her two younger brothers to school. That day, he was sitting on the bench next to a woman I’d never seen before. “Is that your mom?” I asked my student. She said yes. She also said, “Normally she doesn’t have time to come to school, but today she thinks we should be home packing in case we get deported later this week.” I was rattled. How much of this fear was related to families being split up due to deportation? Then, the mother started speaking to my student in Spanish, which I took as my cue to leave them and rejoin the frenzy of students yelling “Ms. Lindo, we lost!” and “Our president is racist now! How could this happen?”. 

And in January, almost immediately after inauguration, some of my students’ fears were realized when Trump passed his Muslim ban. While the news cycle blew up with the story of the MIT student from Iran, my Somalian students - and probably many others - were cut off from the family members who had not immigrated. Their stories flew under the radar. Thankfully we didn’t lose any of our students, but I know the issue kept everyone on edge. I am not familiar with our country’s history of deportation from the 60s, but after my witness that year I think that ripping families apart would be a good addition to Mrs. King’s list of systemic violences. 

I’ve been thinking about non-violence this summer. “I only support the non-violent protests!” has become a refrain for my liberal white friends here in New England. We have the Civil Rights Movement as a model for how to gently insist on having rights, and it worked reasonably well, so it makes sense to like it. I am including myself in this “we” because I was raised and socialized by white people, and I do think nonviolent protests play an important role in our society! 

But I was drawn to this quote from Barrington Dunbar as it appeared on the NEYM instagram page the other day: 

“Black people living in the ghettos of American cities… cannot hear Friends who profess the way of love and nonviolence, but yet maintain a destructive silence in obvious situations of social injustice.” 

So what do we mean when we say “I only support the non-violent protests”? Do we mean “I am uncomfortable with the images of buildings on fire” or do we mean “I am ready to dismantle systemic violence”? 

I know the systemic violence is overwhelming. Mrs. King’s list was long, and I just added to it! I left that City Year feeling utterly discouraged because 22-year-old me could not make up for what my students deserved. But it is empire that wants us to feel discouraged and it is empire that wants us to stop trying because we haven’t done enough yet. It is in our power to stop listening to empire and start listening to each other. We have heard ministry and non-violent activism from Friends among us this week in feeding the hungry, providing for local communities, changing unjust government and so much more. So I ask, what are you willing to do? This is a big question, and it will take time to answer. I encourage us to sit with it and let Spirit and all the resources you have heard this week guide you to find your answer.

A Brief Check-In

Hello. I'm very sorry for my absence. I am moving in 2 days and I am also preparing for the NEYM Sessions gathering which also starts in 2 days. While working on the farm. And slowly sweating to death. If you haven't registered for sessions yet... well, it might be too late but I would really love it if you did. This year is going to be on zoom, which will be weird but also cool because there are different sessions at various times of the day so there should be some time for you. Plus also, I am speaking at the meeting for business on Saturday the 8th, so if you like hearing me open my mouth and you want to hear my personal call to action, you should sign up! If not... I'll probaby post my talk (or an abridged version; it's supposed to be 10 minutes) here anyways.

OK, off to go write said talk. It's been a long time since I've had to actually structure what I'm writing... Wish me luck!

The plan is for me to write more regularly after this week of sessions!

This post is sponsored by Lots Of Ice Cream.

Recommended Reading: White Fragility

Hello! Sorry I have been so absent. It is July, I've had coworkers out with non-covid illnesses and injuries and I am just a tad fried after our latest heat wave. I am trying to write more often, but as you know I'm just full of excuses not to! 

I finished reading the book White Fragility by Robin DiAngelo pretty recently, and I will say I learned some things. I have been on the business end of white fragility more times than I could ever count, and it's had a pretty damaging impact on my life. So hearing a white person come out and label things that have been said to me as "defense mechanism used to maintain white superiority, often in the form of comfort" was like drinking ice water after spending 5 hours in a tomato-growing greenhouse. She cites a lot of the things white people say in response to "being accused of racism" (a lot of times, thinking they're being accused is the first half of the defense mechanism) and then patiently explains why they are harmful to people of color. 
She also gives some examples of how to react when someone tells you that you offended them (or another person of color). You know - how to apologize without drowning everyone in white guilt. 

My other reaction was general aggravation. When someone says something racist, even if it was unintentional and "not that racist", they either get away with it or they throw a hissy fit because now they're "accused of being racist." And then white people have to hold their hand and say "it's OK, I know you didn't mean it that way but this is the impact you're having." What if, when someone said something racist to me, I got to throw a hissy fit? And instead of saying "geez could you stop overreacting?", what if people said "I realize that hurt your feelings now, and I'm sorry and I'll try not to say it again"? Huh! The amount of hand-holding and feelings-protecting that white people demand is absolutely mind-boggling to me, and frankly I hope that as I progress into adulthood, I never need that much coddling!

There are a few limitations to the book. The author is evidently an anti-racism/bias educator who has clearly spent a lot of time with workplaces in which one or two people are Black and everyone else is white. I would definitely want to handle a lot of these comments in professional settings differently from how I would handle comments coming from my frineds or family. I have also noticed a bigger culture difference between being the only person of color in the room vs. having 5 people of color in the room, even if white people are in the majority. When I've been the only person of color I've been allowed to think that race doesn't matter, until someone says something ridiculous ("I'm not trying to be racist, but I just hate how all the Asian students just push their way onto the bus without even looking up from their phones. I mean, they're so entitled!"), at which point I tend to feel really isolated. When there are more people of color, even if we come from different backgrounds, there is still some degree of understanding and solidarity. And hey - when there are more than four people of color, you might have a real support group! (and then you have to tell everyone to read Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria by Beverly Tatum) (actually, you should go read that as soon as you're done reading this blog).

Anyways - I know that a lot of people have been doing anti-racism work in their personal lives and already know why you shouldn't say things like "I work hard to earn my way through life so I don't understand why these people should just get handouts" but I feel like a lot of said white people need reminders or examples of how to kindly explain racism to their fellow white peers. I cringe whenever white people sassily announce that the thing their white peer just said was racist because xyz; as we all know, anger drives people away, and white people have not earned the right to be as angry about racism in the same way as someone who has been victimized by it their whole life. So while I recommend you fill your reading list by books written by authors of color, I think White Fragility is a decent book to add to your list. 
-Anna

Universities as Racial Institutions

Today I am going to share 10 racist things I had to deal with in my first college; Clark University. When I was processing them in 2013-2015, I was met with: "ugh, not again... do you ever talk about anything else? You really need to get over it. It isn't good for you to dwell on these things. People are learning, give them time. I don't believe anyone said that to you! They probably didn't mean it like that." And, the one time I stood up for myself, "well, you didn't have to be so rude about it."

This exercise has three purposes. First, to all my white readers who are saying you are ready to listen to people of color, we are going to test and develop that skill. You will read through this incomplete list without yelling out the first (or second or third) thing that pops into your mind. Then, if you're ready to progress beyond listening to people of color, you are going to leave a supportive comment that you wish your newly woke self had said 5 years ago. Or, if you don't understand why something offended you, you can leave a correctly worded question.

The second purpose is to make you realize that no matter how much colleges and universities want you to think they care about racial diversity, they'll put our bodies on their brochures and turn a blind eye when the white students and faculty damage our psyches.

The third purpose is that I (theoretically) get to feel heard and supported after a pretty traumatic time in my life.

1. In the fall of 2014, the Black Student Union published a list of demands. White students everywhere, incuding roommates, proceeded to call them pushy, unreasonable, demanding and uppity. Yeah - UPPITY.

2. At least two demands were centered around some scandal involving the coach of the men's basketball team. My white girl roommates said that this was ridiculous, because the head of the athletics department was a kind, trusting perosn that they would feel going to with any problem and if the Black guys on the men's basketball team didn't feel like they could talk to her about the racism they were supposedly experiencing, it was their own fault.

3. Another demand was that either people of color or Black get a resource room/safe space in the fancy new student union which was being built. Many white students complained that this was segregation, and some felt like they would need to designate a safe space for white people, too.

4. When I was sitting by myself in the mostly empty cafeteria at 7am on a weekend, two white girls walked by loudly asking why all the Asians never made an effort to integrate into the rest of the student body by always sitting together and talking in other languages. This was the time I stood up for myself by saying that English was my native language so I understood and did not appreciate what she said. And then I informed her that she was probably the reason no international student would want to "integrate" into Clark's society.

5. In the beginning of all three fall semesters, at least three people approached me asking some version of "do, you, know, where, you, are, going??!!!??!?!?!?" in THAT tone of voice.

6. People complained forever about how they were paying a lot of money to go to this school but they kept on getting TAs with thick accents they couldn't understand. So how could they possibly be expeted to learn anything?!

7. People complained endlessly about international students who talked too loudly on the phones in common areas (um, sometimes international calls get worse signal?) or kept them up at weird hours (um, most of their families lived in different time zones?) and were only here because the university wanted their money anyways (um, you're welcome that international students will keep these institutions running so that you can get financial aid?).

8. Clark was in a neighborhood of working/middle class Latino immigrants. Depending who they were talking to, students were either terrified of being robbed at night or acted like they were tough now because they were in a ghetto neigborhood. And of course these people just needed to be saved, especially by education and psychology students.

9. Back to the birth of Black Lives Matter, students used protests as an excuse to get out of class and not enact actual social change (this was brilliantly covered in The Hate U Give).

10. And of course, any incident of racism where no one got physically hurt or killed was subject to be diminished with "well, at least nobody got hurt or killed."

All right, there you have it: racism in universities. I overheard a lot of these comments from more than one white person. Take all the time you need to consider how my experience at college was different from yours or your children's, from my academics to just trying to hang out with friends in the cafeteria. It is worth noting that I never received a microaggression from a profesor, although as a white-acting Asian I am not the person who will receive the worst racism has to offer. And I was serious about wanting to hear your responses.

Thanks for reading! -Anna

Who Is Violent, Who Is Safe?

"Of course, I fully support the peaceful protestors." 
"Non-violent protests make a more powerful statement." 
"I just cannot condone people being violent."
These sentiments were common among my white, liberal, middle class friends and family. Like, don't take it personally but literally all of you said something like this at least once in the last two months. On the one hand, I totally see where you're coming from. I was raised to think the same way and honestly, I'm not capable of stomaching much in the way of destruction or people getting hurt, either. But I would like us to re-evaluate these lines of thinking. 

Let's admit it: we in the white, liberal, middle class world do not like seeing cars set on fire. Or buildings. I suspect that this hits close to home because we own cars and buildings, and shop at some of these stores. We don't like to hear about Black people getting shot or maced or clubbed or strangled or blasted around the streets with fire hoses either, but none of this happens in "our" neighborhoods. We watch it on the TV or social media until we decide to take a break and go make dinner or whatever. Whether you mean to or not, you are equating the destruction of property with the acts of physical violence that police do to Black people on a regular basis (I'll talk more about other forms of systematic violence later, don't worry). I am also concerned that we are training ourselves to see Black people as the victims of violence, when we need to be training ourselves to see them as people. 
In the future, let's make sure we're condemning the right people. The headlines won't say it, but you can: Police are brutalizing protestors, police are murdering, police are committing race crimes. It's OK to be uncomfortable with violence as long as you're aware of where the violence is coming from.

*****

And speaking of police, we have seen a lot of calls to defund or abolish the police. Some cities are actually making strides here. Several major cities have announced that they are redirectiong multimillions of dollars from their police departments to social services like education. Minneapolis is making strides to disbanding its police force altogether. This has prompted a lot more white liberal middle class questions of safety; notably, "Who am I supposed to call if there's a robbery at my house?" 

While I'm sure there are anti-law enforcement advocates out there, all the sensible people I know plan to replace the current police system with something safer for everyone. So if something happens to you, you can still get a response. And this time, the response will match the problem. I also want to point out that comparing your worries of property theft to the fear Black people have of being harassed, set up and murdered by police is a good example of white supremacy. I'm not saying you need to give up your house and belongings to dismantle it and if that was your first thought, I would like to suggest that that's a very defensive response. I am saying, listen to the people who are being the most hurt by police. That would be homeless people, that would be indigenous people, that would be many immigrants, trans folks and people with mental health problems, and that would especially be Black people. They are telling you that, big picture, police do not keep them safe (I'm sure there are individual cases that suggest otherwise; now is an insensitive time to talk about them) and it is now up to you whether you keep saying "but my safety matters more" or "OK, I'm ready to hear your alternative suggestions." 
On Minneapolis: https://abcnews.go.com/US/wireStory/minneapolis-council-puts-plan-abolish-police-motion-71469336
Police are a majorly huge system of violence being highlighted right now. It deserves its own post, which I will write later. Thanks for reading and feel free to comment more! 
-Anna

Coming from a Place of Love

The other day, I was confronted with an interesting question from a white Young Adult Friend: in the context of our role in societal strife (ie racism), how do we tell our respected elders that they are wrong? I appreciated this question, because it puts words to a dilemna I've faced many times as a person of color living in a sea of white people.

My answer was (and still is) to share what a white mother with two adopted Black children in some other anti-racism workshop; I just remember that when my children confront me with my racism, they are coming from a place of love.

In my experience, it can be extremely hard to tell someone you really care about that they just said something insensitive. When I was little, it felt like a choice between "the adult is right" and "my feelings are hurt but I don't know why so I should just move on". When I became a (pre)teen, it was sometimes "that was a dumb thing to say, but I'm sure the adult didn't mean it so I won't ruin their day by telling them, and I'll get over it". I only remember standing up for myself if I got really mad. Anyone who knew me in 9th grade will remember the time a student teacher took over my English class and mixed up the names of all three Asian girls. And worse, when I finally did confront him after school, he said it was because none of us participated enough and so our faces didn't stand out to him. Did you hear that? That was the sound of my eyes rolling straight off my face.

Anyways, while my butthurt emotions will justifiably get in the way, I feel like I'm not really trying to tell my elders that they're wrong when confronting them with racism. I mean, technically yes, they may be saying or doing the wrong thing because it is offensive or systematically racist. But if I'm talking to people I am in family, friendship or community with, the point is not "you're wrong". The point is "hey, that was actually offensive, and I'd like to help you do better by pointing this out so you don't do/say it again." Underlying message: I care about you and want this relationship to grow healthily. 
It is worth noting that when I'm talking about offensive white people outside my beloved community, I will be much more obnoxious. I will probably roast them in my standup comedy routine (ask me about my first college experience sometime). We all have need outlets for our stress!

This lesson did take me many years to learn; see my introduction post for disclaimers on my background and identity. Other people of color, especially those who are not raised in predominantly white communities, may have very different experiences. For those who share my background and have also chosen not to abandon your white communities, I hope you found something useful or relatable. To my white readers, I hope you have gained some insight into the emotional labor of protecting white people's feelings. And I hope that when you see subtle racism in your community, I hope you now feel prepared to confront it without letting your anger get in your way. 


Questions? Thoughts? Reflections? Times that you've second-guessed a chance to kindly confront someone? I'd love to hear them!
-Anna