Racism: Combating this Social Issue
Listening & Empathizing
Writing
Imagining
Advocating
Introduction
While racism is something I have been aware of as long as I can remember, it’s never something I fully comprehended as a white person. I have fought for friends when they have experienced racism, and on a surface level, I was doing the right thing. But I never took the time to sit down and talk about racism with these people because I have been afraid too. It’s a difficult topic, a touchy one at that. And one I felt I couldn’t bring up as a white person. I am a huge advocate for communication. If we don’t have real conversations with each other, we will never be able to understand each other. But I have not been following my own motto. So, I saw this project as an opportunity to change that. The world can’t be changed if we don’t fully understand what it is we are trying to change.
The sociological mindfulness tools I used while conducting this project were: listening, empathizing, writing, imaging, and advocating. While these are tools I have practiced to some degree as a psychology major, I really honed in on them, making sure to not interrupt with my own stories that I was reminded of. In fact, when I sat down with one of my friends, TK, he asked where I wanted to start. And I said, “This is about you. You tell me what you want, and I will listen.” It’s a sentence I wish I heard more often, especially as a kid. And it was an honor to deliver it to someone else who probably needed it just as much as I did. And that, I suppose, is where we will begin.
LISTENING & EMPATHIZING
I spoke with multiple different friends and co-workers about their experiences with racism and how it has impacted their lives. I will not be using their full names, but for the sake of organization will be using their initials. I will be sharing the stories that stuck with me the most and really fueled my passion.
TT told me a story about when she was ill with what ended up being influenza, but the nurses just kept telling her to rest and drink lots of fluids for a week before they finally told her to go to urgent care. And then they blamed her for not coming in sooner! When I told her she should bring me with next time so I could confront them, she said she had no doubt that she would be treated better having me, a white woman, there. On top of that, while that was happening, a co-worker’s husband got antibiotics right away. And this really upset TT, rightfully so. Listening to this story filled me with so much anger. As a woman, I have been ignored when it comes to medical situations and physical pain. I watched my mom be ignored as well. But now, I was seeing how much worse it can be when you are a woman of color.
As children, on separate occasions, both TT and TK had rocks thrown at them and their siblings. They were just little elementary school kids! TT said she didn’t even fully understand why they were being treated that way until she was much older and looked back on it. Her and her siblings had to walk to school together, hand in hand, to protect each other from kids like this. The only time I’ve had things thrown at me were by my little siblings, not my peers. Though this did remind me of a story my little sister told me. One of her Latina friends was getting her hair pulled by this “popular” girl. And she wouldn’t stop despite them repeatedly telling her to. So, one of their friends smacked the bully with her laptop. It’s disappointing that people don’t listen when asked nicely. They have to be screamed at and sometimes it results to violence. And then all of a sudden they are the victim instead.
TK told me a story from when he was young. A kid tried to take his bike, yelling, “This is my bike.” Thinking in a logical manner, TK responded by saying, “no, my father bought this.” But the kid kept trying to pull it away from TK and things turned into a rough game of tug-a-war. One of TK’s older brothers came over and kicked the kid off of TK and his bike, resulting in the kid falling to the ground. Feeling bad, and having empathy where this other child lacked, TK reached out to help him back up, but the kid threw wood chips in TK’s face instead. I was shaking my head, not in disbelief, but in disappointment. Because I have seen this type of thing happen so much in society. It’s almost like cruel people, not expecting empathy, resort to even more violence.
Another story that TK told me about was when he and a group of friends were playing in a park when a group of people drove by, honking their horn and yelling out racist slurs used against the Asian community. And all TK yelled back was, “I love you too, bro!” I chuckled, because it’s the kind of sarcasm I enjoy. But it also reminded me of a story of my own, which I did share with him. I was filling up my tires with air, at dusk, when a group a boys drove by, honking their horn at me and yelling out of the open window. My response was less graceful as I stuck up both middle fingers at them. “That was the correct response,” TK said. It was a validating moment for me, as I hope our conversation was for him.
A co-worker of mine, SM, went to an all-white Catholic school. One day, before Christmas vacation, a kid ran past her and yelled, “Merry Christmas, *n-word*!” SM asked, “What did you say?” And the kid repeated himself, so SM punched him in the face. Of course, the Nun only saw her hitting him and didn’t hear what he said. Even after SM explained the situation, it wasn’t the Nun who disciplined the kid, but the kid’s father who stood up and said that he wasn’t raised to speak that way and to never ever speak that way again. We all gasped when she told us this story. I experienced a lot of horrors in public school. My family wasn’t from the small town I grew up in, so we didn’t matter. Kids got away with bullying us all the time. And to think that a religious school was worse, breaks my heart like glass falling to pavement.
One of my best friends, MA, is biracial and is often mistaken for being adopted. In fact, her mom was told that she was doing “good charity” by adopting MA and her brothers. She said that she feels like she isn’t white enough for White people and not Asian enough for Asian people, which is something I heard was a complain feeling for biracial people. But hearing it come from her made it much more real and much more depressing. I know how painful it is to feel like you don’t fit in any given space. I had to create a space for myself where I wasn’t viewed as the weird quiet girl who would be easy to pick on. And I hope that every single person mentioned in this feels like I am a space for them to exist as themselves fully. I don’t want just the good pieces, I want all of them, quirks and all. That’s what makes the world interesting after all.
I never cared for the public-school curriculum. The things they choose to teach us while leaving out the most important parts, created a skewed version of history. It’s why I started reading, starting with Anne Frank’s diary at eleven years old. But this project has really taught me that most kids weren’t like me. They didn’t seek out the truth. They bought into the successful white man’s perspective. And it has created a whole society of uneducated people.
Writing
I love to write. It is how I express myself best, so I wrote a poem and had my friends read it. The friends of color who I spoke to and friends who are like me, supporters of true equality. I even got great ideas to add to it, so all the underlined parts were inspired by their ideas and input. The one that stood out the most to me was TK’s response. He said, “I think it would be the most ultimate thing if you put something that the average white person struggles with.” And my mind was blown. I was looking at this all from the wrong way. In my attempt to be inclusive, I excluded my own race because we have been taught that racism against white people doesn’t count. But it should. It really should.
In fact, my uncle got fired from his job because his co-worker lied and said that he was being racist. It should be noted that my uncle was reminding this co-worker of something he needed to do (my uncle was the supervisor), and that my uncle’s wife is Asian, and that they didn’t even ask my uncle what happened. They just fired him on the spot. But apparently that’s okay because he’s white.
One of my friends said this poem gave her literal chills and that I should publish it. I have a collection of poems that I hope to publish as a book one day. This poem is getting added to that collection immediately. But I think it could be beneficial to look into writing contests that I could submit it to or even just a different way to publish it, so it reaches more people.
Everyone who read this poem agreed with every word I wrote, that it was beyond true. And bless her heart, one friend said that I was an amazing writer. It touched my heart just as much as the poem seemed to touched theirs.
welcome to America
I am told to fear the woman in the Hijab.
Not the sex offender sitting next to me.
I am told to run from the Black man in a hood.
But to give the white man with a gun in his hands a chance to defend himself.
I am told that I’m bossy and too emotional when I take charge.
While the man sitting on his ass, bossing everyone around gets praise and a pay raise.
They say we have come so far.
But just because our bathrooms are not segregated, and we can all vote does not mean we are all treated equally.
And it’s really hard to take them seriously, when all the theys are white men who never have to look over their shoulder as they walk to their car in the dark.
We never knew the true meaning of free.
Because it’s the gay bars getting shot up. It’s the women who are getting raped, and the Asian community who are spoken to as if they can’t understand English when they were born and raised here, and the Black people getting shot without a thought, and the Latinx families getting split up, and the Jewish temples being vandalized. And apparently, it’s okay for my sister’s classmates to tell her that her skin is so white that she wouldn’t be visible in a snowstorm.
I’ve spent my life building up walls around my heart, and if I’ve learned anything from that, it’s that walls don’t solve problems.
Despite how far it seems we may have come, we have not come far enough. Because many are still forced into silence, lips taped shut. Because many are still told that they are lying, trying to ruin an honest man’s life when really, they are fearing for theirs.
How can you say we are Free when you shoot people to silence?
And I’m afraid to publish this because I’ve been taught that it’s okay to be racist to people like me, but not all white people believe in this version of America. Real change comes from working together no matter race or gender or age.
And to believe otherwise is disrespectful to those who fought for our rights.
This country is supposed to be the “land of dreams”, but truly the reality is a nightmare.
Welcome to America.
“True change isn’t just an external thing, but an internal one as well.”
“In my attempt to be inclusive, I excluded my own race because we have been taught that racism against white people doesn’t count. But it should. It really should.”
IMAGINING
“We wouldn’t have the world we have today if people before us hadn’t imagined things that didn’t yet exist.”
~Michael Schwalbe; Making a Difference
Once upon a time, when I was a kid and less scarred than I am today, I was the biggest dreamer. I spaced out, creating worlds and characters in my head that I found more entertaining than my reality. I thought throwing a little bit of magic into anything could make it better. But as I grew older, as time passed and I collected more scars, I started to believe magic wasn’t real. I became cynical and jaded, biting the edge of the sword just to see if I would really get cut.
But in the past year, I’ve been reminded of how important dreaming and imagining are. This course just solidified it. I used to dream that I would make the world a better place. Recently I’ve felt ‘Why fix the thing that broke me?’ But that is exactly why I should fix it. So, less people end up broken and bruised by things they shouldn’t have been subjected to.
Connecting our imaginations with others is the technique that stood out to me most because it falls into the category of communicating. Reaching out and talking and listening. I have grown so much doing that not only through this project but in many other areas of life. Change starts with one person, but lasting impact happens when a group of people come together.
I have dreamed and imagined publishing a collection of poetry that could be life shattering if placed in the right hands. But having people tell me I should gives me courage to think, “Well, what if I did?!”
“What if?” A question my therapist usually tells me to stay away from. But in this case, it really got my mind working in a positive way. Like, what if we looked pass the surface level, tore through the skin and muscle and blood and bone, straight to the heart of who a person truly is? Would we understand each other better? Would that lead to more respect and equal treatment and opportunities? Would that lead to a world filled with more love and peace than hate and violence?
What a world that would be.
It might not be the world I will ever see in my lifetime, but I hope one day it will be the one my future ancestors see. And I hope that positive change has to do with the actions and steps my generation takes.
Moving forward, I am going to try to dream a little bit more. Let myself imagine a better world, even if that only means the space around me, with me at the heart of it. I suppose going back to school so I can help those in need may already be a start. Sometimes, I let myself imagine what my life could look like once I get my degree and can have a career that brings me a sense of purpose and reason. I think I like that version of my life best and I haven’t even met it yet.
Advocating
True change isn’t just an external thing, but an internal one as well. To be a true advocate, I first had to look at what I have been doing wrong. Because believing everyone deserved respect and standing up for my friends in time of crisis wasn’t true advocation. Sure, I have been standing up against my father since I was a little kid, but he has proven time and time again that he will refuse growth and true change. I needed to start looking else where to change the world. So I looked inward. And I changed how I viewed a conversation around race. It wasn’t about proving that we all experienced pain to some kind of degree, no matter race. It was about learning how this pain was different.
Then I looked outward. And the first place I saw that needed some work was my work place.
MB recently had a racist encounter with another coworker. He told her that when her mom came in for an appointment that he would talk slow and use hand gestures so she would understand him. And she said, “My mom is white.” And he asked, “You’re adopted?” And then she explained that she was biracial. She reached out to me, saying that it made her feel uncomfortable. So, I told her that she should talk to our lead, who also happens to be TK. All three of us talked to each other about it and MB felt comfortable to go to our supervisor after that. I think sometimes people need to be shown that they are worth fighting for, so they have that extra courage to fight for themselves. I always want to be that courage for people.
Not too long after, we had a patient who needed instructions printed off for a test he was getting done but we only had them in English. One of my co workers used google translate to get the instructions printed in Spanish, which made the patient really happy. But it made me think, how is this something the company missed? I spoke to my supervisor about it, and he said he would reach out to see if that is something they have translated or not. If not, I will be looking into how we would go about getting them translated professionally, because we all know google translate isn’t very great.
But the big way in which I will be advocating going forward with life is through my writing. I started by having many people read the poem I wrote. Friends, siblings, my mom, co-workers. I am happy to report that it received high praise. I even had my brother read the stories my friends/co-workers shared with me. After he finished reading it, he walked into my room and just stood there. “So, what did you think?” I asked. And he said, “We thought our lives sucked?! This is depressing!” And this is why we share stories. Because we can’t possibly understand if we don’t speak up and if we don’t listen, if we refuse to be a united front.
My dream is to publish my stories and my poetry. I want to write about me, my experience and feelings, but I also want to write about others. I want to learn different cultures and experiences people have whether it’s based on race or gender or age. And I want to fill my characters with the realness of life, not only so they feel more alive, but so my future readers can learn truth within fiction. Because that is how I started to grow and learn back when I was just a lonely middle schooler.
But most importantly, I am going to continue to have these conversations. To give myself a chance to grow, and learn, and breach the walls of my own mind. There is so many more people out there for me to meet, and I look forward to the journey.
Q&A
1. What conditions fuel and recharge your creative energy?
I’m laughing at myself while writing this, because a lot of people drain me, but the thing that fuel’s my creative energy are the RIGHT people. Many of the friends I spoke to for this project are those people. They are creative themselves and also make me think outside of my typical walls of thought. For this project even, they gave me such inspiration and amazing ideas to add.
I am inspired by the most random things. Something someone said in a conversation, a random song lyric, a book I read, the color of the sky. Inspiration hits at the most random of times. I even have a wall in my room covered in sheets of paper with random lines and quotes on them. Hopefully I will put them all to use one day.
But on the flip side, darkness fuels my creativity as well. So much of my writing and passion comes from a place of pain. Because those are the things, I need to understand most about myself and the world, and it’s a way to connect with people who have felt similarly.
2. How do you build and foster your connections?
COMMUNICATION! This is one of the biggest factors that needs to play in every single kind of relationship. And communication doesn’t just mean talking through an argument or making your opinions heard. It’s about sharing stories with each other. Giving, and receiving the same amount of energy from each other. I find the deeper conversations are the ones that not only make me closer to a person and build trust but inspire my own writing and creativity. A relationship means more when you can talk about anything and everything with someone, knowing it’s a judgement free zone. I truly hope everyone has at least one person in their life like this. It makes the darkest days a little bit more bearable.
3. What’s your process for receiving permission to share community stories?
To be honest, most stories I have shared have been my own. And it took a long time to give myself permission to do so. Because so many other people are involved in my story such as my parents and siblings and friends. I used to feel like their stories were bigger than mine and that meant it wasn’t mine to tell. But my feelings and journey are still valid. I wrote a paper once about a childhood friend of mine who was killed, and my professor was so adamant on it being my story just as much as it was his family’s story. And that really taught me how much our stories intertwine. That my story isn’t just my story. Just like I am apart of the stories for those I am closest with.
This project is honestly the first thing that I am writing where the stories are hardly mine. I’m more of a narrator than a character. But I really enjoyed the learning experience that it was. And I suppose that role can be considered as one of the most important. I asked each person if they were okay with talking about this topic with me. And thankfully they all were! For years I feared bringing this topic up because the few times I tried to, everything got twisted backwards. But I just needed to find the right people and listen more than talk. It was an absolute privilege getting to hear their stories and to be given the permission to share them with others.
4. What are my core values and what do they mean?
My core value has always been to treat people the way you want to be treated. I was standing up for people by the time I was only eight years old. Maybe it’s because I am the oldest of six kids and am protective by nature. Maybe it’s because I know how it feels to be bullied and picked on. Maybe it’s how my momma raised me. Or maybe it’s all those things. But I knew right from wrong before my peers did, and I honestly couldn’t understand how people could feel okay with themselves treating others so cruel. And my peers weren’t the only ones I fought. My father was the biggest bully of all. If he says anything racist, sexist, homophobic, etc… you best believe I am correcting him every single time.
Another core value of mine is to just be yourself. It’s hard to be anyone in this world so you might as well be your true self. I want real people to like the real me, not fake people liking the version of me I pretend to be to cater to their wants.
5. What role(s) am I best suited to play, given my skills, innate strengths, lived experiences,
knowledge, and interests?
So, I actually asked one of my friends what role(s) he thought I fit into best and he said, healer and guide. I totally agree with healer but was honestly surprised by guide. Both this friend and I are big on recognizing and tending to generational trauma and trying to break that cycle. But a guide? I don’t know if I have well-earned discernment and wisdom, but I hope one day that I do.
But ultimately, I think storyteller is the best role for me. I want to spread awareness and love through my art and writing.
6. Where am I stretched too thin because I am playing multiple roles in multiple contexts?
Life is a hard game of trying to find the right balance. I have never been good at that. My parents, in different ways, raised us to be hard working. My father was big on us “earing the roof over our head”. So now I have this mentality where I am worth what I can give. I drained myself by being a caregiver to everyone and trying to be a healer for my little siblings, trying to be a guide for my father, a storyteller for the world, but also trying to be a builder for myself. I am still trying to find the balance and also accept the fact that some people just refuse to learn and grow. That it’s not my job to take care of every single person I come in contact with.
7. How do I connect with an ecosystem, or organize a new one?
I used to be so bad at this. I couldn’t connect with people for the life of me. I used to think it was because people didn’t like me and didn’t get to know me well enough. I was mature in a lot of ways, but I still was a bit self-centered. I thought they were the only problem in the equation. But I didn’t get to know them either. Now, I have so many people who I adore and who enrich my life. And it is simply because we had real conversations and got to know each other on a real level. They let me into their heart, and I let them into mine. In fact, I had a friend recently tell me that I am one of the only people he can truly talk to about anything and everything. And it warmed my heart. That is the kind of person I want to be.
In fact, my dream the past couple of years has been to create a safe place for people. All the weirdos and outcasts, they don’t have to feel misplaced with me. Come as you are! And my supervisor recently told me that not a single co worker has ever brought up a compliant about me so I hope that means I am succeeding in being a shelter for those who don’t have many safe places to go.
8. Who is in my ecosystem, and how can I support them?
My mom, sisters, brother, and friends! They are my gravity. I always tell them that I am here for them with open arms, an open heart, and an open mind. And if they need me to fight for them, I will be by their side, no hesitation. Life shouldn’t be fought alone. And I just make sure they know that they aren’t as long as I am around. I hope to inspire them as well. Inspire them to create and chase after their dreams.
9. What do I need from my ecosystem?
They are my roots. Literally, they keep me grounded. When I am having a terrible day, they are who I talk to, not only to vent, but to also get the wisdom they carry. Their words give me strength and courage to persevere. I never had a lot of support growing up. People were quick to point out my flaws and weaknesses. But my ecosystem, they are a place of support and constructive feedback. Words of affirmation, they are a game changer.
I have also come to realize that I love talking to people who have a much brighter perspective on life than I tend to. It helps level me out. It forces me to acknowledge the good and not just the bad. They have taught me that happiness isn’t an elaborate thing like I used to believe. Happiness exists in the comfortable silence of a friend, the chaotic energy of a real conversation, the colors of a sun set, the way the lights reflect off wet pavement, the familiarity of a favorite song, the cool breeze on a hot day, the sound of waves against the shore, and the ability to smile at the mirror.
Happiness isn’t earned. It’s realized.
And the members of my ecosystem helped me to accept that.