Can I Say Something?

This week, two friends asked for feedback on pieces they had written. Both were about race.

One, by a white friend who wanted to express his grief and horror at the murder of George Floyd at the hands of a white police officer (read his thought-provoking piece on race and music here). Another, by a bi-racial friend who is mourning her lack of connection to her African heritage. Both expressed a pain they didn’t think they were qualified to talk about. My advice to both of them was, be vulnerable, own your feelings and write from the heart. Don’t be afraid to have a voice.

And yet here I am. I’ve read about George Floyd and Ahmaud Arbery and Christian Cooper this week. I’ve seen people of colour on social media crying out for allies, and felt physically pained by their raw grief and anger. But I haven’t said anything. I’ve told my friends to be courageous, but I haven’t.

The story I’ve told myself is, I don’t know what to say. That I don’t live in America, so even though this is upsetting to watch from afar, it’s not really my problem and I have no power to change anything.

I’m a white, privileged woman. I live in a liberal, socialist country. Where I grew up, on the other side of the world, our relationship with race is just as shameful, but it’s not the same. I couldn’t possibly feel less qualified, have less right to say something on this topic.

Well, that’s not good enough. Because, while the situation in America might look like a tire fire 400 years in the making right now, let’s not kid ourselves that the US has a monopoly on hatred. Aboriginal people have been dying in custody for years in Australia. English friends have had to hide from alt-right extremists. In Canada, 50 percent of black and Indigenous people report that they experience racism regularly, yet two thirds of Canadians believe all people have equal opportunity to succeed. Those numbers don’t add up. We are blind to the experience of our neighbours, colleagues and friends, and whether that is wilfully so or otherwise is a question for another day, but we have failed to listen when they have told us that the cards we have dealt are entirely stacked against them.

Yes, I worry that speaking out might be patronizing or tone deaf or, god forbid, ‘virtue signalling’. I don’t want to be another white person taking up space when I should step aside and let a person of colour speak for themselves.

But I was encouraged by someone I admire today to take action on the things that are important. And I’ve been learning from friends who have different backgrounds to me, who are kind enough to share their stories and help others understand their experience, that this is not just ‘their’ issue – it’s all of ours.

So, I don’t know what to say, but I’ll try. I’m angry. When an officer of the law kneels on another human being’s neck until he dies, we are all diminished. When a young man gets shot because he was going for a jog, it tells us that the world we have created does not bear scrutiny. I find it disgusting that my friend with dark curly hair gets stopped and searched by the police, while they smile and tip their hat at me. I hate that people make assumptions about someone’s upbringing and worth because of the colour of their skin. I hate that I get opportunities not afforded to others, because of the colour of mine.

To my non-white friends, I’m sorry that I haven’t been enough of an ally, or haven’t understood well enough, listened better, asked more thoughtful questions. Please keep sharing your stories, and know that I will take responsibility to educate myself more. I still don’t know if I have a right to say something, but I no longer think it’s OK to silently believe that I’m not racist, but then fail to use my privilege to say and do something when an injustice occurs that makes people I know and care about feel unsafe, exposed, threatened by people who look like me.

If this time we’re living in has taught us nothing else, it is that there is a near-universal desire to build a new way of living that is gentler and kinder than what we had before. 

The systemic structures we have built benefit white people at the expense of others, propel the wealthy toward greater riches and suck the life out of our planet. 

For now, we have hit the pause button on our voracious pursuit for more. Before we hit play, let’s think about what justice and privilege really look like. What has been laid bare in this time of angst and uncertainty, is that we live in a world that sorely lacks empathy. We (and I include myself in this) have failed to ask about the experience of others. We have grasped and striven to create better lives for ourselves, without really wondering about who gets left behind, or what we lose as a society in the process.

We can charge back into normality and continue with the myopic entitlement that has led to so much division and destruction. Or we can use our privilege to demand a world that is fairer. We can stop, take the time to talk, to ask questions, to learn, to feel what others feel. I don’t risk anything by speaking out. But people who don’t look like me risk their lives and liberty by asking for things to be different.

So let’s stop saying “this isn’t my problem” or “I don’t know what to say”. Because when we don’t speak up, those who already have all the power fill the silence. 

In the end, yes, I can say something. We all can. Perhaps the better question is, can I DO something?