What follows was posted originally on Itoro's own blog, "Thoughts of my Mind". She has welcomed me to repost it here. And it is with gratitude to her that I do so. To link back to the post on her blog, please click *here*.
[The website this is from is: http://thoughtsofmymind-itoro.blogspot.com/2012/10/in-quiet-place.html ]
In a Quiet Place
why some people be mad at me sometimes
by Lucille Clifton
they ask me to remember
but they want me to remember
their memories
and I keep on remembering mine
This testimonial is a celebration for all
the ways we survive, often unnoticed and alone in our struggling to make
a difference from the many places we inhabit. This testimonial does not
belong to me, it could not be written without the wisdom and knowledge
of many other peoples remaining vigilant in putting our dreams of a
world free of exploitation into practice. Our collective memories of the
ways in which unchecked supremacy can run rampant in our practice
towards one another fuel our determination to realize this dream. We
often find ourselves marginalized and alone, unwelcome in radical
communities with curt responses or none at all, and usually no
acknowledgement of the ways in which we have been torn in these
movements. Radically telling this truth can be viewed as divisive to
the movement and a “pathological” issue. This logic is an effective tool
to manage dissenting voices, sanitize our lived realities and allow for
treacherous interactions. Many of us have horror stories of the types
of systemic disrespect and negation we have gone through. In fighting
for a more expansive politics, to openly name the ways dominant
behaviors surface across many institutions and people is met with
hostility. To honor our rage and pain, to use our stories as a way to
salve our wounds and name the abuse is a radical endeavor. It suggests
the possibility of healing and allowing ourselves to find wellness.
Acknowledging pain demands a critical reflection on all the interactions
that happened to get us to the point of betrayal in the first place. It
also demands us to interrogate our own habits and question the role we
have played in the matter. Often, this type of radical truth-telling
does not happen, we end up leaving
or staying in these places looking in from the margins, completely
discredited. So of course, the scars are here, still swollen and
bruised. Wherever do we go from here?
Hey, big woman–
with scars on the head
and scars on the heart
that never seem to heal–
I saw your light
And it was shining.
(Assata Shakur)
As someone who identifies as Black, as
woman, first-generation, African, working class and energetic, I have
seen how my rage has been treated as counter-productive to the
movement. I think of my own horror stories expressing the
destructiveness that can come with doing this work. The most recent and
painful memory. I am working as an educator within a radical teaching
organization. We care about solidarity, critical thinking, understanding
and liberation across difference for our common struggles, Yet, when I
note the overwhelming whiteness and privilege often exercised within the
organization I am either met with an eerie silence or hostility. More
specifically, when I say that the movement to end class exploitation
must also deal with white supremacy and assert that we (yes we, not just
the ruling classes)
must investigate our roles in reproducing this class system with our
own internalized supremacy I suddenly become that sore on every one’s
side.
“Am I crazy? No one has said anything so maybe it’s me…”
I soon start to
believe that I am the problem. Besides, there are people of color here
too, who care about solidarity, critical thinking and liberation across
difference. We have to care about it and love each other fiercely…right?
When trying to voice my concern to this woman of color she swiftly cuts
me off and says, “It’s not about a black pedagogy or white pedagogy but a class pedagogy.” End
of discussion, there is no longer a conversation to be had. She does
not even look me in my face, just like the rest of them. Maybe I should
have said something else, maybe I missed something… I am that sore on
her side. This is a woman of color, she holds a lot of respect and
authority within this organization. I respect her too…is this my fault?
The refusal to not scrutinize how we
practice freedom in our daily lives often leads to this type of unspoken
and unrecognized pain. When these contradictions remain unchallenged,
usually the most vulnerable within the organization are the one’s who
experience the worst of what the organization has to offer (or refuses
to offer). In other words, we become easy targets for your unspoken
rage and anger to be unleashed and accepted at any moment when our mere
presence calls out your particular contradiction and shortcoming. My
rage speaks to the pain of the explosive silence and broken
relationships that has deterred all our efforts to see us finally
liberated from a larger structure of outright violence, denial and
repression. I think of my sources of anger. I have had to go back and
scrutinize these memories to break my own fears and silence:
● A colleague of mine has told me
that the all white teaching staff is wondering out loud if I am really
serious about teaching. Constantly dealing with these students and
administration is hurting my health. I have had racial slights hurled at
me and most of the teachers act as if I am not there…living in this
area has physically made me sick and yes I have been absent for a couple
of days. I come back to hear that now the teachers are talking about
whether or not I am serious about this work…never mind that my white
colleague can go to a wedding for a week and not have these things
wondered about him, or the quality of his work questioned…in fact, his
teacher mentor wants to keep him for the next semester…
● I demand a meeting to talk about the
institutional racism going on in the schools and teaching program. I go
to the administration (comprised of two women of color and one white
woman) they ask me questions about why I am so upset. One of the women
(a woman of color) even says that when she saw me crying one day in
front of my classmates she read my display of emotions as “impulsive.”
She notes my silence as the primary reason the administration does not
know what is going on (never mind that I told her about the “white
teachers gossiping” incident a couple weeks ago) She questions why I
want special treatment around race when other people in the program also
have their issues. I am questioned so much that I begin to think what I
am asking for is trivial. All the things I “demand” remain mostly
unchanged.
● A white male student has been allowed to
teach in Harlem New York. It was my understanding that no student could
travel this far out for an internship. I think back to previous
meetings I had when I said I wanted to work specifically with children
of color. The administration told me that my wanting to teach students
of color is a subjective issue. Most of my white peers talk about
wanting to do prison work, feeling that people of color need the most
help and wanting to work with “vulnerable” populations. But this
colleague can go teach students of color and even travel away to do so.
He comes back to class saying he is having a difficult time relating to
the issues he is seeing with this population. I watch the same woman who
used her questions to discipline me, use her questions to help this
student with his specific situation.
● I have become completely silent in
class no longer wanting to engage. I should do better and hate the fact
that I feel so stuck. But still, I do have to note that two of my other
colleagues are incredibly silent however no one seems to stare their way
and demand and answer when the white people exclaim, “Not enough people
speak up in class!…”
● I’m in a role play in a small group on
intervening to stop racism. The scenario: One woman wants to cross the
street because she spots an African American male walking on the
sidewalk. The other friend is supposed to intervene. For the next ten
minutes I watch these two white, well meaning women theorize around why
they would not intervene in saying the woman wanting to cross the street
is acting in a racist manner. I finally come out with my uneasiness and
say this is dominant thinking. After I finally said those words I dealt
with the brunt of these two “allies” insidious shame and guilt.
● A teacher is teaching us aspiring
teachers about cultural sensitivity and bias in the classroom. She is
White. (This should not matter because we are in a radical setting.) In
order to teach us about cultural understanding, she makes an almost
entirely white class take the Chitling test. These are the things I know
about the Chitling test 1). It is extremely offensive 2). It
pyschologizes the black experience and 3). It should not be taken (even
with well meaning adults) if we do not talk about the legacy of white
supremacy. None of this is talked about. In fact, the white teachers
defend why this test makes sense. One of them notes that a black
sociologist created the test. I don’t give a damn if a black sociologist
created this test. We are not all on the same side. Some of the
students look confused, most of us say nothing, most of us do not
understand the history behind this test. This is confusing. One white
woman across the table from me laughs and says, “Let’s take the test!”
● I’m working at a new teaching site.
It’s a progressive school. If I want to be paid for substitute teaching
I must go through a background check. I pass in the required
documentation within the first two weeks of school…two months later I
hear no word about my paperwork going through. I send emails to no
avail. My other white male colleague who entered the site the same time I
did has passed his background check. He has started subbing and is
getting paid for his work. I take on the same teacher load but the
situation is different. Not having my background check cleared requires a
“real” substitute teacher to sit in and monitor what I am doing. By law
I am not allowed to be alone with the kids. The kids wonder who is the
authority figure…I teach any way. A week later I am sitting eating my
lunch. The lady who is supposed to handle my paperwork comes in wanting
to check in about the situation. She tells me that for some reason my
documentation has not yet been passed in. She proceeds to ask me, “…so
about your background check. Are you…legal?”
● The most devastating memory: A professor
of color asks me in front of the all white class, “You’re black, why
are you silent?” I express a tenth of the rage and anger at white
supremacy and finally say I am tired. The teacher says “I knew you would
say that,” and for a moment I think I have an ally. She goes on to
swiftly tell me that John Brown understood what this struggle meant, and
that I am doing this work for the people. It is this day when I really
start to wonder if by the people she is referring to the predominantly
white middle class students sitting in her classroom.
● Note to self: Document everything you
can and don’t let them get you alone (unless you’re strong enough to
take them on), that’s their way of coercing you into things you might
not want to do. Try to have someone there as a witness to verify what
they tell you in private from what they actually do when everyone is
watching. My last day meeting with two of the administrative members at
the end of program. I finally tell one of them that I felt chastised
within the program and that there was absolutely no support offered. She
asks me, “Did something deep in you change?” At this time, I
do not realize how deeply patronizing and dismissive her question is. I
reply yes. The respect for her authority is still there. I still try to
hold my position that there should have been some support. She goes on
to tell me: “The institution is not supposed to be supportive.” This
feels like the twilight zone. It also feels deceptive. This is
confusing. I was under the impression that we wanted to build
community, namely with one another… I’ve seen her be supportive when she
needs to be…why is she always so heavy handed with me? And what about
me needs to change? And if something is wrong why can’t she at least be
clear about it so I can fix it? Has she said this same statement to any
other student? This is information you do not hide, if I had known she
felt this way I would have known that for all this talk about
principles, it was a “pick and choose what works for me” game at best.
● A little over a year and all’s been
said and done. I must still ward off these anti-racist white women who
have not shaken their case of Missy Anne syndrome. One of them wants to
“touch base.” She cannot take no for an answer when I say no to meeting
and hosting her. She uses her creativity to get my phone number, my
partner’s phone number and persistently texts and calls. She’s found out
where I work and I hear that she’s been to my workplace. With all this
persistence there must be something she needs to say. When we finally
meet she smiles without acknowledging anything. Not what happened back
then and certainly not that her supremacy is showing now. She still
feels insufficient in her work for social justice and something about
maybe buying a house. This meeting is awkward at best. I will not use my
energy to soothe her guilt. People reflect the organizations and
ideologies they’re coming from. And inaction and denial is such a
reactionary and tired tune. Haven’t heard from her since. You cannot
force a relationship.
As I think of these memories, I wish I had
been resolute in knowing that these people were very much tied to their
positions of power and dominance. Under such an abusive gaze, where
there was much more going on than this little story can touch, I
celebrate that I did not give in to grief.
Finding the language to analyze these
habits becomes a necessary task when the words of radical thought is so
readily available, while in the same hand, we feel the constant jerking
of an elbow hurting our sides. Like everything, there is no pure place
to work from. Social justice work is also rife with historical
contradiction and struggle. Within a capitalist structure, it has become
professionalized. If you play your cards right, you can make your meal
ticket off of “helping” people, and even your feelings of wanting to “do
good” can be used to buttress your career. So please be sure, this is
not a compartmentalized race story. The way things played out
politically was steeped in the protection of white supremacy and
tokenized positions of status for a few people of color. These terror
stories should alert us to the types of spaces we inhabit within the
overall class hierarchy when there are no built in structures for us to
critically reflect and change these contradictions as a collective. When
we look at how our right to lead our own movements, to teach in our
communities, to have our ideas heard and published, and to safely work,
is constantly thwarted by this type of hidden supremacy, we cannot be so
naïve as to not connect these structural behaviors to our economic
options. If we care about movement building we must challenge the
institutional silence that erases and shames us while these injustices
occur in the space and cracks of our liberation work.
Where does the pain go/when the pain goes away?
Audre Lorde
Women of color, in a quiet place, come
together to talk about the ways in which we have been hurt. We name the
things we have had to go without; from adequate health care to
employment discrimination to worrying if we’ll be the one picked up on
the street when walking home at night from the train station. We talk
about our struggles and dreams. We choose to use rage as insight to
continue. We are not fodder for the “cause.” We are here. There is much
to fight for and no time to waste.
Without the love of my sister-friends I
would not have made it. They built me up to be a warrior and tore down
those sinking doubts and feelings I had. Their stories put steel in my
spine and resolve in my throat. They massaged that crackle in my voice
that had internalized blame and doubt. They were committed to practicing
love as a principle. They were confident in knowing that we should not
be the ones to always receive the brunt of contempt, to be the ones who
must be taught harsh lessons so we can really internalize how dreadful
this system is, for fear that we become too “coddled.” Mutual
caretaking and intimacy is part and parcel of our survival. To toughen
ourselves does not mean we must be cruel to one another. To survive does
not have to mean that we allow ourselves to be tokenized to call rank
on one another, that we give in to the values of this system and see
each other as an opportunity for individual benefits. Through their
words and commitment to heal what had been scarred I was made whole.
Constant conversations with sister-friends
who knew what I was going through was my healing balm. Whenever we
could get together, we would develop strategies to protect ourselves
from the daily blows and assess how far we needed to go with our
particular struggles. One sister-friend would write very detailed and
thought out letters that helped develop my analysis when I needed words
to name behaviors beyond feelings. In one tough situation she wrote:
In many ways being in this situation
has helped me to polish my analysis, and understand more broadly what
boundaries i must establish. i am able to also see more clearly my own
internalized oppression and how this manifests in my comments/behaviors,
etc. In addition, i can also see how my knowledge and analysis is quite
powerful and if not used carefully can be destructive towards my allies
as well as others who do not hold my same opinion. I am very glad to
have gone through the process of conflict transformation. for though i
am a big critic, i learned much about myself and my capacity to try to
bring understanding and solidarity in situations like this, without
negotiating my fundamental values. i really don’t think i will be able
to work with this group of people, but i will continue to support their
efforts for social justice, as i will others. the white privilege is
present in every work, gesture, and suggestion. it is much to much and
will take to much of my energy which is continuously being challenged by
those who are really in power. but at least there i am visible…..very
visible. i will be writing soon, with details, attaching emails, and
recording the negligence of some of our colleagues, who just happen to
be people in positions of power and decision making. i never thought
these groups were perfect, for i am also not. but, i was not expecting
to have to put up with so much rejection and dominance. this is absolute
nonsense coming from such an organization. let’s stay positive, let’s
not dismiss anyone regardless of their positions, left, right, moderate,
even fundamentalist. let’s try not to do what they do.
And I must shift the eye towards myself. I
fed into the supremacy and hatred for another woman of color who I
consider a dear sister friend. I should have raised my voice when her
anger was being laughed away in front of my peers. I did not intervene
when another woman of color said that she would not respond to this
woman’s anger. Never mind that she was a professor saying such a
dangerous statement to two students of color.
The “angry” woman in question was just
“easily pissoffable.” That day, I did nothing to earn my title as an
educator truly wanting to see a just world. I was too afraid to claim a
position that brought humanity to my friend; I chose to stay
comfortable. I should have said it would be more productive to analyze
the situation than to individualize her anger as an unwarranted
abnormality. Or say that we have become all too accustomed at
discrediting each other when the other is not there and this is something
to be pissed off about. I did not use that moment as an opportunity
to speak to the larger structure of the organization and our serious
issues around not explaining our choices, ignoring one another, and
justifying our positions as the only fact that can exist. I could have
even gone on about how we explain away brutal ego-tripping gossip as
“analysis.” My friend’s anger was justified and should have been taken
seriously. I did not have to contribute to the cruelty of that
situation. When I look back, there are many could-a, should-a, would-a’s
I wish I had claimed as moments for clarity.
I am sure that there are stories about my
shortcomings that has done an incredible amount of damage, and I have to
hear them if I am committed to sharpening my analysis, healing and
creating solutions that restore dignity.
Too many of our stories are fraught with
betrayal, distortion and violence in struggling to reach a place of
equality. What type of hard and difficult work are we doing to ensure
that we are creating the conditions for the massive change we want to
see? Are there structures where we can all be clear about the choices we
make? Do we consent to the targeting of our peers? Is our work
restoring our dignity? The struggle continues. In my new place of
struggle I knew what mistakes I did not want to continue…this knowing is
liberating and involves much risk.
It took me a while to own that burning
part of myself, the part that could spit fire and the part that could
honor my resistance. Being around such strong women made me want to own
that power and continue to struggle. There are so many peoples we do
this work for, who have given much more than I can imagine and suffered
greater losses. I am still here. To give in to my fear is a slow death
at best. There is much too live for. I remember a time when I wrote an
email about the privilege and dominance within the program, how it
hindered our goals. There was no response from my peers and I began to
wonder if there would be a punishment for my thoughts. My sister-friend
was able to salve my wound with her final words:
“And yes, I noticed no responses. As
we know this is a strategic move of privilege and hegemony…to deny the
existence of our thoughts, ideas, and creativity. Oh, but they heard
loud and clear…do not doubt this my friend. Keep speaking, for if we
don’t we will lose our humanity and dignity. i know what it feels like
when we feel we have spoken to much. it’s really okay. Breathe
and know it is okay. gather your thoughts, honor your life and your
way, give people a chance to take it in….you will know when and how to
continue. but never, never, be silent for too long…remember that what we
say is deep, much to deep for others to sometimes handle. but remember
we have handled even more and have survived and become better women
because of it. don’t let guilt or shame stop you….those are the masters
tools….do away with them.”
[The website this is from is: http://thoughtsofmymind-itoro.blogspot.com/2012/10/in-quiet-place.html ]
