Seeing "Detroit" the Movie

I debated on whether to go see the movie “Detroit." Did I want to have that harsh reality from 1967 in my face on the big screen – in living color?

I’d lived through those times.  But I was forty miles away, in campus housing in Ypsilanti at Eastern Michigan University with my husband and six-months-old daughter. I had relatives in Detroit, aunts, uncles, cousins, in-laws, and my parents and sister. My brother was in Viet Nam. 

My fear and concern were huge, but I’m sure it was muted in comparison to the folks who survived what is now known as the riot, rebellion, or uprising, depending on who’s describing it.

Yes, I would go see the movie, wanted to see the movie. So I could discuss it and write about it. And we did, Judy and I. In Coos Bay, Oregon, at noon on a Wednesday. One other couple ventured into the theater to watch. The four of us had the place to ourselves.

The movie’s portrayal of events in Detroit and in the Algiers Motel was harsh, rattling any sense of security and confidence in justice. As I observed innocent people humiliated, dehumanized, threatened, and beaten, their dreams and lives shattered, anger and sadness re-ignited in my heart and gut. 

But, I realized “Detroit” is a film that should not be avoided. This is a work of art that reflects our history as a nation and our on-going struggle with race and policing. It’s a film that shows us, fifty years later, things aren’t much changed. It’s a film that should open thoughtful dialogue.

And then came Charlottesville.

We need to talk. I’m open for discussion, thoughts, questions.  None of us has all the answers. But let’s do whatever it takes to facilitate understanding and the advancement of equality, kindness, and peace. A conversation is a beginning.

~ xoA ~

Aftermath

Hi. My name is Annis, and I’m a hope-and-positivity-aholic. But I won’t lie. These last ten days have thrown me down. Down is foreign to me, as foreign as a speck in my eye, as foreign as Greek road signs. Down is heavier than a lead suit.

I gave myself a day to wallow. I sobbed in disbelief and sorrow. And I took the defeat personally. While out for a walk, I scanned the faces of approaching hikers, wondering whether they had voted against “me.”

My daughters phoned. They happened to be together in D.C. that week. “We just wanted to see our mama,” one said.  Then, the three of us sat on Face Time, shaking our heads, moaning our disappointment, trying to fathom what had just happened.

On Day Two I started doing the things that usually get me through a crisis. I talked to Judy about my feelings and fears, spoke with like-minded friends, and wrote in my journal. I walked, meditated, saw an inspiring movie, surrendered to the power of poetry. My coping mechanisms started to work. The gloom began to lift – but, as my mom, Ms. Ruthie, would say, as “slow as molasses in January.”

Donnel posted a poem by David Whyte on Facebook, “Despair”. A couple of safe Facebook groups, in which people wrote of their fears and feelings, shared their stories, and propped each other up with encouragement and validation, sustained me.

New friends from the summer writing workshop, Glint of Light, began to share poetry. Zia, one of our Canadian friends reached out first with a poem by John O’Donohue, which she offered as a blessing. Its beautiful ending, “May your soul calm, console, and renew you.” And soon more of the group wrote, sharing the poems of Neruda and Piercy, and telling of their own feelings. Each post became a soothing balm for my heart.

Time with my local writing groups, my buddies, buoyed me up with their words and friendship -- and a bit of wine and cheese and homemade cookies.

And finally, I am able to write without ranting. Ten days. Ten days passed before I could sit down and be that hope-and-positivity-aholic again. I sure missed that woman!

As horrible as these past days have been, I see actions that send me back to HAPA-land. People are talking. Conversations about the government, the political system, and the fact we have become complacent and lazy, leaving the heavy lifting to others. Groups are mobilizing to create change, long-needed change, at the local and state levels. Our attention has been grabbed. School boards, city councils, state and US congressional representatives will hear our words.

Folks are saying, “I will be bolder. I will stand up for other people. I will be a safe person for anyone who is harassed or afraid or needs a safe harbor.”

A small and commonplace thing, the safety pin, has taken on new meaning, has become a symbol of solidarity, love, sanctuary. A middle school teacher reported one of her students asked about the safety pin she wore. “It shows I‘m a safe person and here to help anyone who needs it.”

Her explanation opened the door for him to tell her he was hungry, his parents hadn’t filled out the necessary reduced lunch application, and he had no money. Now, this teacher began to understand him. She had an idea why her student was behind in his work, didn’t complete assignments. She bought his lunch. Within days, he appeared with the forms.

Clearly, the safety pin is not merely – as someone in the blogosphere wrote – “a way for White people to make themselves feel better.” It’s a signal of solidarity, compassion, and love for others.  It’s a small thing that can have an impact.

Standing strong and together, we can make it through these frightening times, through inevitable upheaval and chaos. Let our enthusiasm reign, our voices be heard, and our good intentions transform into actions that support and uphold each other. Commitment. Conversation. Hope. Positivity.  

                                           ~ xoA ~

Conversations about Race: Let’s Talk!

Ever have a difficult situation or conversation about race or racism come up at work or at a meeting? How about in your classroom? Or in your home or car when kids are interacting? How comfortable do you feel participating in these conversations?

Over 300 of us “met” this week on Teaching Tolerance’s webinar, “Let’s Talk!,” a program designed to instruct about handling difficult conversations. It was billed for teachers and school personnel, but I found many aspects of the presentation appropriate for anyone.

One thing the moderator suggested was to assess our own comfort level concerning dealing with conversations about race and racism. In a poll of the group, she asked us to designate True, False, or Sometimes regarding the following statements:

1.   I am comfortable talking about race/racism   (T - F - S)

2.   I would rather not talk about race/racism. (T - F - S)

3.   I feel prepared to talk about race/racism. (T - F - S)

Then the moderator asked us to finish the next two sentence stems:

1)   The hard part about talking about race/racism is . . .

2)   The beneficial part of talking about race/racism is . . .

Fingers flew and answers bolted upward like scattered birds as participants’ responses bombarded the Group Chat window. Some expressed fear of misspeaking, sounding racist, or doing harm. Others mentioned benefits such as empowerment, validation, and providing a voice for all ideas, feelings, and points of view. 

We can’t NOT hold these difficult conversations about race and racism if we want to provide an opportunity for understanding, tolerance, and acceptance on everyone's part. 

Additionally, the techniques and tools modeled in the webinar could apply to conversations about any difficult subject -- religious differences, anti-LGBTQ issues, and ableism, to name a few.  

None of us has all the answers, but we can prepare, learning more by studying history and current events. We can lean in, finding comfort in discomfort and allowing ourselves to be vulnerable. We can learn how to manage situations in which strong emotions are expressed.

Teaching Tolerance’s webinar includes a helpful downloadable resource guide that contains grade level appropriate strategies for classrooms, valuable resources, and graphic organizers.

And one of the best parts? It’s still available to everyone. You can view the one-hour webinar online. Below is the link to Let’s Talk!, which is now offered on-demand with accompanying resources.    http://event.on24.com/wcc/r/1042855/1E1D15797EA0F472AB2D05FF6769D45B

So, how comfortable are you discussing race or racism? What experiences have you had you can share with others? How did you feel?

~ xoA ~

Conversations about Race: A Book and Real Life

Last month I learned of Ta-Nehisi Coates’s powerful book, Between the World and Me. My friend Cristina spoke about it as we began our Conversations about Race. This was my first introduction to the Atlantic national correspondent.

Part memoir, part history lesson, Coates writes a book-sized letter to his teen-aged son about being a Black boy and surviving growing up to become a Black man in America. It’s a reminder and warning to his son and other young Black men to be vigilant. Jeopardy is close at hand, eminent, in the form of racism.

         

“Racism dislodges brains, blocks airways, extracts organs, cracks bones, breaks teeth. You must never look away from this.”

The incident that occurred last week with the 16-year old Black boy being taken down in Stockton, California, illustrates Coates’s words. According to the article I read, the teenager had been jaywalking and when told to get on the sidewalk by a policeman, he did not comply and used “obscene language.”

The ensuing “scuffle” resulted in the boy being held against a tree with his knees up, the officer pinning the boy’s ankles tight to his body by pressing his baton against them. The teen tried to move the baton away, and the office told him stop resisting and then struck boy about the head, twice, with the baton. Soon, nine other officers arrived on the scene, four of whom grabbed the slender kid and pushed him to the ground. The teen was handcuffed and taken into police custody.

There are those who will say he should have done as instructed, shouldn’t have mouthed off, shouldn’t have resisted, shouldn’t have been jaywalking in the first place. Maybe so, but do those actions warrant the harsh treatment this kid, hardly more than a child, received? 

As any parent or teacher of adolescents knows, these behaviors and attitudes are typical during the teen years. They also know that to achieve teens’ compliance, situations must be dealt with by means other than physical force. I recognize that police officers have a formidable and dangerous job to do and most do it well. But I can't help but think their training should include child and adolescent development and strategies for working with difficult teens.

Regarding  Coates’s account and the Stockton incident, an observation from another friend and writer, Charlotte, came to mind: “There was a culture of superiority among the Whites that hung on from the beginning of slavery in this country… And it hasn't changed. Maybe, outwardly, since, except for the police, we don't go around killing and enslaving Blacks. But it still festers in their gut. How can it not be that today's Black has a terrifying chip on his shoulder?”

A “chip” and an unwillingness to continue to surrender, a need to protect his body. A young Black man must understand, as Coates relates, that “In America, it is traditional to destroy the Black body -- it is Heritage.” Coates wants his son to realize, “You are a Black boy, and you must be responsible for your body in a way that other boys cannot know.”

For all the cautionary words and myriad examples of racism, Between the World and Me is also an anthem to the strength, resilience, and struggle of Blacks. Coates declares, “They made us into a race. We made ourselves into a people.”

It’s a revelation, an honest entrance into his world and life experience. It’s a way that anyone, Blacks and Whites, can place themselves in his context.

In her assessment of the book, my friend Cristina said, “What I appreciated and respected so much about Coates’s Between the World and Me was his courage in looking at himself and then turning that "truth lens" on racism in our society. As he said : "Race is the child of racism, not the father." I have never read a book which is as honest and truthful as this one.”

What good book that explores questions and observations and provides insight about race can you recommend?

~ xoA ~

Conversations about Race: TalkBack #2

Folks are talking about race. Facebook and blog comments, personal emails, and face-to-face discussions pop up daily. Today’s TalkBack shares a few responses.

DOUBLE CONSCIOUSNESS

A recent message came from my friend Cristina as she reflected on her behavior and feelings. Her words prompted conversations between our family members about “double consciousness.”

“When I interact with a person who seems of African background, I tend to have this heightened sense of "double consciousness". I'm monitoring myself and also wondering what that person of color is
thinking/feeling about me and the situation as we interact. I sense the other person may be doing the same. Tellingly, this only happens to me in America.”

“Double consciousness” is the phrase that struck Judy and me. Judy remarked on her own double consciousness. She pays attention to her words, tone, and body language, attempting to ensure they come across to show she’s receptive and friendly. “I think a large percentage of white people, namely those who are sensitive to race issues, feel this way too,” she said.

Cristina considered the reasons for her heightened awareness and monitoring, “Part of it has to do with the past slavery and continuing segregation/prejudice in America and my feelings of shame and guilt and anger over this. Part of it has to do with trying to imagine myself and my ancestors living in slavery and segregation. And who knows what else?”

When I shared the gist of Cristina’s post with my brother, Thomas, he related it to his job transporting disabled and elderly folks. He told of the sensitivity training bus drivers must complete and how he checks clients out to see how they might be taking his words and attempts to provide assistance.

Though we may not be conscious of it, I think most people monitor themselves and others in any conversation where the folks they are talking with matter to them. We do it with our family members, employees, friends, and strangers we want to get to know. So, when dealing with someone of a different ethnic group, if we want to be open to becoming acquainted, or developing a relationship, we exercise consciousness.

EMBRACING DIFFERENCES

We all notice differences.  How individuals, groups, communities, or countries view those differences influences how they accept or treat people.

“I am sure the people who claim to be "colorblind" have the same ability to see race that we all have. I am guessing what they mean is color doesn't matter to them in terms of accepting people as equal, friends, whatever,” friend and colleague Joan Kerr said. (See the blog comments for Joan’s full text.)

My poet friend Halia Pushkar shared, “I see this partly from a Canadian point of view, where history has been different, but prejudice there has also thrived, against immigrants, against religions, against native people, against differentness.”

Another friend, Sandy Burris, consciously chose her path. (See Sandy’s full text in the blog comments.) “Having grown up very racially isolated, I determined to provide my daughter with a DIFFERENT experience. It's been easy . . . my particular hobbies (especially dance) surround me with such a variety of very cool people--who come in all colors, sizes, shapes, ages, and sexual preferences. I think really, it's not colorblindness we seek, but simply openness to different ways of being.”

Some of us welcome differences. Others experience fear, either because of the unknown and/or imagined possibilities or because of misinformation and stories.

It seems to me, two things are a beginning toward improving race relations: 1) our willingness to experience and embrace differences and 2) taking a look at our interactions and noticing how we’re being received and responded to.

What do you think?

~ xoA ~