We don’t often get to spend much time with one another out outside of our monthly meetings so this season we are thankful to be able spend some quality time hanging out for our second annual weekend getaway. It’s a great opportunity to do some fun activities (outside of discussing books) while continuing to build meaningful relationships with some amazing women.
Am I a Safe Person?
by Deborah Pulis (with input from A. Bird, Laurel Bush, Ann Fields, Dr. Pam Fields, Michelle Ray, E. Rodgers, Dr. Kat Smith, Brandi Wilson)
“If your Black friends aren’t talking with you about race, it’s because they don’t see you as a safe person.”
A friend of mine shared this at one of our interracial book group meetings. We were trying to make sense of the dissonant experiences of the white and Black folks in the room. Our Black members were saying that they talk about race and racism on a daily basis. This seemed to be a reality for every one of them, without exception.
“If our Black friends are constantly thinking and talking about racism,” a white member asked, “then why don’t they ever talk to us about it?”
“Because they don’t see you as safe,” was the response.
Oh.
Are all white people unsafe? Yes, until proven otherwise. “Unsafe” is the default designation.
This discussion took place several years ago, but it has stuck with me. Many of us who are white hold the worldview that racism is no longer a serious problem. This belief is often strengthened by the silence of Black colleagues and acquaintances who do not feel safe sharing their real feelings and experiences with us. In fact, our very denial of racism makes it unsafe for Black people to do so. The vicious cycle continues as we deny racism, communicate (perhaps unconsciously) that it is not safe to share experiences of racism with us, and dismiss or deny Black perspectives on race when they are shared.
This is why it is such a gift when a Black friend is willing to tell you that you are espousing a racist view. They are taking a risk in making such a statement, and more likely than not, you will get defensive and tell them why they’re wrong. Or maybe you will just shut down the conversation and stay away from that topic in the future. Or maybe you will start avoiding that person altogether.
They could just stay silent. That wouldn’t make your worldview less harmful, it would just help you maintain your obliviousness.
So why would they speak up? Because they care about you. Because they think your friendship is worth the risk. Because on that particular day, they got access to enough optimism to believe that maybe, just maybe you would actually listen, and maybe, just maybe that would make the world a slightly better place to exist in.
But instead of putting the burden on Black people to risk “throwing pearls before swine,” what if we (white people) took it upon ourselves to become safe people? This is what I asked myself that day in our book group meeting, and it’s a journey I’ve been on ever since.
You see, being unsafe comes very naturally to me. In many ways, it is my default mode. When my (African American) daughter, Kalia, told me that she wasn’t comfortable at our Tuesday night dinner because she was the only person of color, and I blew her off, I was being unsafe. You’re not really trying to get to know people, I told her. You’d be just fine if you would try a little harder. But I was the one who wasn’t trying. I didn’t try to understand her perspective. I didn’t ask her to tell me more about why she felt that way. I just told her she was wrong. I didn’t use those words. I didn’t say, “You’re wrong.” But I didn’t take her seriously, and it amounts to the same thing.
Or when a friend showed us a video that was supposed to be funny, and Kalia said, “That’s kind of racist,” and my knee-jerk reaction was to explain why it wasn’t. Why did I do that? Why was I more concerned about defending this random white woman in the video, who I don’t know, than listening to Kalia, who I do know and love and trust? She was trying to offer me a gift – the gift of sight, the gift of awareness, the gift of empathy – and I slapped it out of her hand.
Those are two minor examples, but I share them for several reasons.
To show that none of us is immune to this sort of behavior. We all do it.
Good intentions are not enough to make us safe. They are a good start, and they are certainly not worthless. But it is still very possible, and very common, to hurt someone without meaning to. This doesn’t mean that they are being overly sensitive, or that you are being purposely insensitive. It just means that cross-cultural misunderstandings are a part of life. If you’ve ever traveled abroad, then you know this to be true.
Behaving in this way doesn’t make you a bad person, it just represents an area of unawareness. And how do we gain awareness? We look, we listen, we open ourselves up to feedback.
In an effort to help myself and other white folks learn how to be more loving toward People of Color, I created a survey for the ladies in my book group, as well as a few other friends. I’ll be honest, when I read their responses, my first thought was, I can’t share this with anybody. It’s too precious. I wasn’t trying to be selfish, but my fear was (and honestly, still is) that many people will not be able to see their words for the gift that they are. Instead, many people will feel threatened, attacked. And in response, they will want to attack back. They will want to find something wrong with these women, something wrong with their worldview, something wrong with their hard-earned wisdom. We (white people, myself included) are extremely good at finding reasons to discredit and dismiss perspectives from POC when they make us uncomfortable.
If you find yourself feeling this way, don’t be surprised, and don’t shame yourself. Our feelings are largely out of our control. But what we do with our feelings, and how we respond to them, that is within our control. So my request is this: Don’t read these words from a “right/wrong, agree/disagree” mindset. Don’t go looking for reasons to discount these women. They are not radicals, they are not extremists. They are regular, everyday people like you and me. So if their words make you uncomfortable, challenge yourself to sit in the discomfort. Wonder about it. Ask yourself: Where might my perspective need to be enlarged? What might be gained by listening to these voices? What might be lost if I ignore them?
SURVEY RESULTS:
Note: Nine people responded to my survey, seven of whom I know personally, and two of whom were connected through mutual friends. All nine identified as African American / Black. What follows does not (and is not intended to) represent what “all Black people” think, nor is it intended to prove a particular point. I share it simply to give voice to perspectives that are not often heard within white social networks.
What communicates that a white person is NOT safe?
“All unknown white people are unsafe. At the extreme, our lives depend upon having this assumption and our experiences mandate this stance.” – Dr. Pam Fields
“When I meet a white person I always assume they are not safe. They have to prove they are safe, which takes time and shared experiences…Their white skin color automatically communicates they are not safe and keeps them in the unsafe column until they prove otherwise.” – Ann Fields
“Racism – once experienced frequently – has a familiar energy that you recognize. (This is hard to explain.)…[Unsafe white people] NEVER ask questions of POC that are open to curiosity. E.g. ‘How has the last death of ________ affected you/people you know?’ Instead, they ask a loaded question and answer it themselves. E.g. ‘Why would people like you even be affected by _______ dying when you always follow police commands?’” – Brandi Wilson
Some other signs of “unsafe people” mentioned by various respondents were:
An elitist attitude – thinking you know everything, thinking you’re superior, thinking Black people need you to be a savior.
Being dismissive of perspectives and experiences that do not match your own.
An inability to listen openly, with a genuine desire to learn something new.
For many people, support of Donald Trump was an automatic indicator of “unsafe”. (I wrestled with whether or not to include this, because the last thing I want is to alienate a whole group of people or to play into political divisiveness. But this came up enough times, completely unsolicited, and so I felt like I owed it to the respondents to include it. If it angers you, or creates defensiveness, please take this opportunity to get curious about this perspective rather than dismissing it as misguided/ignorant/deceived, etc.)
If someone seems “unsafe,” how does that impact the relationship?
“I am careful in what I say and what I invite them to. I do not discontinue the relationship but seek to understand them and have them understand me. Some Black people would discontinue the relationship and some would just not address the elephant in the room.” – Dr. Pam Fields
“There is no relationship or rather it is very superficial…like saying ‘hi’ or ‘bye’ to any stranger on the street.” – Ann Fields
“I don’t call white people a friend until I’ve deemed them, ‘safe.’ That is less stringent than the friend test I run for black friends. I will still speak about race anyway. But prior to this freedom, I would reduce how much I speak to this individual. They would lead the discussions & interactions.” – Brandi Wilson
“There are black people I can’t talk with about race/racism. Therefore, I find a common interest where we can share and exchange ideas…I keep a 20 foot invisible pole between me and white people who think they know it all about race, if they oversimplify race and racism, and/or have limited references to how they come to deal with race. So I let sleeping dogs lie. I use Proverbs 23:9 NIV “Do not speak to a fool, for they will scorn your prudent words.” I also like the Good New Translation: “Don’t try to talk sense to a fool, he can’t appreciate it.” – E. Rodgers
“There is negative impact on the relationship, but it’s not uncommon. I have to figure out how to maneuver through interactions and how much to self-disclose going forward.” – Laurel Bush
“There is no personal relationship if you can’t talk about this.” -Anonymous
“Maya Angelou says that when a person shows you who they are, believe them. So if they are complicit or a progressive racist, then I am cordial but refrain from developing a deeper relationship with them in any capacity.” – Dr. Kat Smith
“I keep it platonic and try not to put myself in a situation where I would need to count on said person.” – Bird
“We don’t have a relationship.” – Michelle Ray
What communicates that a white person IS safe?
“If they ask relevant questions and listen deeply, authentically, they move a little closer to acceptance…With all the unjust killings of black people of late, I have paid extra attention, making note of the white people who called or emailed me to apologize for the murders.” -Ann Fields
“I usually need SEVERAL interactions over time with white people before I declare them safe. The ONLY way I can declare a white person safe quickly is IF they take a HARD stand against racism…Even then, I still verify that their opinions are consistently against racism or self-reflective in their role in racism.” – Brandi Wilson
If there is “quality and depth to our conversations,” and if “I perceive their reactions and responses as authentic.” – Dr. Pam Fields
Some other signs of “safe people” mentioned by various respondents were:
Being introduced by a mutual friend who is seen as safe. Respondents varied on if/how the race of the mutual friend impacted things.
If you have close relationships with other People of Color.
What can white people do to become more safe?
“Listen. Ask questions to sincerely learn. Don’t think you know the truth. Your truth and our truth are far from the same. Perspectives are different. Life experiences are different, so be open to honestly understand what the daily life of a black person is like.” – Dr. Kat Smith
“Adopt a learner’s stance. You are seeking to learn and understand, not debate or judge.” – Dr. Pam Fields
“Build trust. Show empathy. Study to prove yourself worthy. Be authentic. Participate in Visible Unity’s Unity Process. Read a book about blacks and our contributions to this one-way love affair. Learn the real history of this country. Be intentional about integrating your life.” – Ann Fields
“Humility is critical. Listening more & speaking less…Put yourself in diverse spaces. (Bonus points if you go to black spaces hosting these conversations.) Be patient. White people’s history in this country puts black people in a position of distrust IMMEDIATELY, so keep working to tear down that wall.” – Brandi Wilson
Any other thoughts or advice to share?
“Be sincere and open and don’t take everything as a personal attack.” – Laurel Bush
“Don’t be quick to say you are not a racist because we all have bias, and so even though I am married to a white man, I do still have bias about certain white people, and I talk to him about it and vice versa.” – Dr. Kat Smith
“Stop making non-whites, the ‘other’, consciously or non-consciously…Just be a normal non-confrontational person starting a conversation. It’s not that hard. Stop overthinking it, treating it like a chore.” – Anonymous
“Please refrain from using the following as a convo starter: ‘Your hair (or whatever is unique to their race) is so different, can I touch it?’ That’s something for someone you already have a relationship with.” – Anonymous
“Get in a group with different races of people to discuss topics like this. Some Black people will have no problem of telling how they feel. Some Black people will tell you what you want to hear, that everything is fine. Some Black people are blind to the fact that the people they support are racist.” – Michelle Ray
“Ask questions, e.g. ‘I’m seeking to understand X or Y, what is your thinking about this?” or, ‘I read X or Y, were you aware of this? If so, what are your thoughts about it? Have you experienced this in your life?’” – Dr. Pam Fields
“Read: Me and White Supremacy by Layla F. Saad; Stamped from the Beginning by Ibram X. Kendi; The Water Dancer by Ta-Nehisi Coates; Citizen: An American Lyric by Claudia Rankine; Small Great Things by Jodi Picoult.” – E. Rodgers
“Read White Fragility before engaging in these conversations. You can mess up your chance with that black person, which reinforces our built-in feelings of distrust in the presence of white people…Start off in a virtual setting to ease into these conversations without the pressure that comes with an in-person interaction. Send an article about a topic of interest [racism] to a black person you want to speak with. Ask them if you can speak virtually/by phone about it. Do not expect black people to discuss these topics at work or in overly white settings. One-on-one is always a great start.” – Brandi Wilson
“Don’t mistake one’s anger or frustration for being directed at you. Most black people have lived a lifetime of anger and frustration and distrust and you’re not a therapist but you are a human and you can listen. You won’t always get it right. I won’t always get it right but be open.” – Bird
Next Steps:
If you are reading this and desire to become a “safe(r) person,” but don’t know where to begin, I highly recommend Dr. Pam Fields’ Unity Process. The Unity Process is a 9-session experience that helps you examine your internal biases, and provides opportunities to practice talking about race in a safe, supportive environment. Groups normally meet in person, but are meeting on Zoom right now – so if you do NOT live in the DFW area, take advantage of this opportunity to participate from a distance! The next group will meet Saturday mornings @ 10am on Zoom, starting January 30th. If you are interested in participating or have any questions, email Pam here: info@visibleunityinc.org
Using Fiction to Combat Racism? Really?
by Ann Fields
I was skeptical. A group of women of all cultures, all backgrounds coming together to beat back racism using fiction novels as the means? Really? Now, don’t get me wrong. I love books. I love reading. And as a black woman, I LOVE the idea of eradicating racism. But using fiction as a tool to fight racism? I was with the “show me state” folks on that premise.
Fast forward three years and now I am a believer.
I have been a member of the Multicultural Women’s Book Group (MWBG) from inception in 2017 to present. The goals of the group then and now are: use contemporary fiction (and a few non-fiction) book discussions as a segue into talks on race, to build cross-cultural relationships, and the ultimate goal, combat racism through exposure, understanding, acceptance, repentance, and forgiveness.
You may be thinking as I did initially, “no way!” But here’s how the goals are achieved, how the group works for me, and I am assuming, the other 15 or so women.
To eliminate contentious, disingenuous, counter-productive debates, we ground all discussions in civility, respect, and “I” statements (among others); a complete list of discussion guidelines are stated, posted, or referenced during meetings.
All members are expected to share responsibility for the group’s functioning. Members sign-up to lead discussions, to share readings, to serve on the book selection committee, to monitor behavior within the group, to bring food, and to head special events. This expectation leads to ownership, buy-in, and commitment by group members. It also surprisingly (or not surprisingly) leads to intimacy and openness, the basis of any relationship.
It’s quite natural that splinter relationships form out of the overall group. I have had the pleasure of spending time outside of book group meetings with several members, two of which I share lunch with as often as our schedules allow. Both are white. Another member, a white woman, has had coffee, lunch, or happy hour with almost every woman in the group. She’s my hero. I aim to do that, too, but in the meantime, I am content to attend wedding receptions, graduations, book events, etc. with members. Cross-cultural relationships are definitely forming.
Personal growth has always been important to me. MWBG gives me the opportunity to learn more about the Asian, Hispanic, and even my own black culture. Having members of all races at the table greatly enhances the discussions. Hearing and seeing reactions from all races is informative and rewarding. And have I mentioned how affirming the group is?
I could go on, but hopefully you see now how fiction helps to alleviate racism. And really I could have summed the points in a few words: MWBG helps me move beyond the superficial to seek and embrace the person within. We are, after all, sisters of one race, the human race.
Education
Stephanie Dorman
For October 2019, the MWBG is reading Educated (2018) by Tara Westover. Dr. Westover’s memoir describes her journey transitioning from an extremist, isolated, violent childhood to a globe-spanning historian disowned by much of her orthodox family.
I am anxious about discussing this book with our group tonight because, once again, it hits close to home. Two months ago, it seemed like I silenced the room when I asked my fellow readers to be empathetic to the perspective of a white supremacist’s ideals about how to be a good parent. His motivation wasn’t far away from mine – I want my children to receive specific kinds of care in environments that reinforce the values I hold close to my heart.
Last month I fear I drained the air from the room when I broke down in tears in reaction to our assigned story. The author’s actions mirrored relatives who abuse the trust and meager resources of my extended family. For days before our group meeting, my stomach knotted with anger and grief. During our meeting, when I was finally able to breathe again and dry my eyes, I noticed a group member lightly rubbing my shoulder. Many caring faces offered me warmth and concern.
The tension I am carrying for tonight’s discussion relates to homeschooling. I am a product of the public school system, all the way through a Master’s degree at a state university. I taught middle school and undergraduates in a university teacher development program. Success in traditional schools paid for my degrees and certifications. Until 15 years ago, I held a strong bias against homeschooling, the label Dr. Westover chose for the type of education her parents offered.
In summer 2005, my perspective shifted dramatically. Because my child was approached sexually by another kindergartner, and disregarded by administrators when she reported seeing a gun on her school bus, my spouse and I wanted to remove her from the neighborhood elementary. After considering several options, with my child’s input we decided to homeschool.
Researching the requirements and resources available, I found Alison McKee’s Homeschooling Our Children, Unschooling Ourselves (2002) at the public library. From McKee I learned an instructional method that blended well with my professional interest in social constructivism, a learning philosophy stressing our need to connect new information and skills with prior knowledge to be able to grow. Constructivism is typically interactive and learner-driven. In the homeschooling community, this type of learning is found in unschooling, because it is not based on the traditional subject-based lesson plan followed by an assessment. Instead, learning is more organic, based on interests and needs, and may take seconds or years in an unending process. There is no summer vacation or spring break, nor is there distinct homework or irrelevant reading. We learn constantly and from everything. While my children choose the topics, I contribute ideas, resources, and “you need to know this” where appropriate.
Some might say Tara Westover’s early education was unschooling. She learned skills and information useful in her lived environment. She could drive heavy machinery, look out for her personal safety, blend natural remedies, and determine when she could test limits versus when it served her better to be demure and private. To give some comparison, my unschooled younger child at an equivalent age is learning electrical code, how to weld, blacksmith, and sew, and how to cook frugally because he wants to build a tiny-house self-sufficient community with his friends in the Pacific Northwest. Like Dr. Westover, my teen is preparing to take the ACT and is considering higher education.
My fear for our group discussion is I won’t be able to articulate clearly that unschooling doesn’t have to stem from religious extremism (we’re agnostic), equal the educational neglect Westover endured, nor be used to indoctrinate fear and paranoia. Unschooling does not have to inherently reject institution-based education. Schools and faculty do not need to be the enemy to be blamed and persecuted for society’s ills. And unschooled children do not have to be the awkward, socially inept people portrayed on popular TV and movies. (It has never made sense to me when people question my children’s socialization. They visit and play with others constantly. In contrast, can you imagine how many times as a classroom teacher I told kids to STOP talking to each other and quit playing around?)
For tonight’s discussion, I am scared our family’s educational choices will be lumped with the horrifying decisions Westover’s family made. I am worried that once again I will force the spotlight on myself and potentially overuse the mental and psychological energy of my fellow readers. Yet isn’t this the purpose of reading together, to reflect on our reactions together? Is it a compliment to our book selection team that their choices resonate so deeply with me? Isn’t it an exquisite feeling to know these ladies have signed on to being in relationship together as we process our responses to the written word? We are adults growing together, life-long learners constructing meaning socially. Isn’t that ultimately the point of education?
Dallas Morning News X MWBG Dallas! →
Why two Dallas women started a female-only book club about diversity
Jean McAulay (left) and Shannon Cerise, founders of the Multicultural Women's Book Club, at the Dallas Institute of Humanities and Culture in Dallas.
(Rose Baca/Staff Photographer)
Shannon Cerise wasn’t expecting 25 women to show up. The meetings usually had about half as many attendees, but on this night, there didn’t seem to be enough chairs.
Cerise stood at the whiteboard with a marker in hand and asked the room: “How are you feeling?” She wrote each answer down one by one.
“I feel comfortable,” said one woman.
“Nervous,” said another.
“I’m hopeful.”
One was curious, and a few were excited. It was a mixed bag of emotions all across the board.
The women gathered for the Multicultural Women’s Book Group meeting, a book club for women of all races that uses books to discuss social topics. On this night, they were discussing Robin DiAngelo’s controversial White Fragility for the second time. Most of the attendees recall that the first discussion didn’t go so well.
White Fragility is an in-depth look at “why it’s so hard for white people to talk about racism,” as the author puts it. The group, made up of white, black, Asian and Latina women, doesn’t always talk about books as contentious as this one, but race isn’t an unusual topic to focus on.
The Multicultural Women’s Book Group was started two years ago by Cerise and Jean McAulay. The pair had attended the Questions of Color panel discussion, an event held in 2017 by The Dallas Morning News on how conversations are framed around people of color.
McAulay said the event was alarming and depressing, especially after hearing some of the life experiences that people of color and their kids go through. McAulay is white, and she admits that being shocked by the stories she heard was “a privileged, white woman, clueless, stupid thing” for her to realize.
“We lead such segregated lives,” she said. “You might work with diverse people, but most of the places that we live are super segregated. So how do we get people into connection with each other?”
Cerise and McAulay wanted to continue talking about social issues in a civil group setting. So they started the Multicultural Women’s Book Group with a membership that is open to many, regardless of ethnicity, age, culture, perspective, religion and sexual orientation. But there was one condition that McAulay was adamant about: The members had to be women.
“Women are more often the people who create relationships for their families, their communities, for their neighborhoods. They’re the people out there who are making connections,” McAulay says.
Those connections and discussions, McAulay says, are the things that create change in a community. While the Multicultural Women’s Book Group does read and discuss books, the group wasn’t meant to be an intellectual study.
The goal is to bring the community together, one woman, one friendship at a time.
The book club topics dive deep into the realms of race, privilege, immigration, poverty and politics, and the books they read guide these conversations. Previous books include Celeste Ng’s Little Fires Everywhere, which led to a discussion about privilege, adoption and abortion, and Dallas Morning News reporter Alfredo Corchado’s Homelands, which prompted a discussion about immigration and diversity.
Each meeting is guided by rules that outline civil discussion, and each discussion is led by a different member of the group. White Fragility was led by Laurel Bush, a black woman who works for a nonprofit in Dallas.
Bush became a part of the Multicultural Women’s Book Group early on. She says that to see two white women take on the initiative of putting together a group like this one meant that they “were open to other people’s thoughts and ideas.” Beyond the important discussions, she says, the best part about the group is developing friendships.
Forming a group like this has its challenges. McAulay says talking to a group of strangers about deeply personal experiences can be intimidating, and getting over that initial stage takes a lot of time. In order to combat that, the women are encouraged to spend time with each other outside of the meetings. They’ve gone line dancing, bowling and held meditation sessions.
McAulay attended a Beyoncé concert with Bush last year. Bush had already been to one of Beyoncé’s concerts, but her experience with McAulay was different. It wasn’t all about the music — it was about the conversations.
“Jean’s older, and it’s obvious she’s white,” Bush said. “A lot of Beyoncé and Jay-Z’s lyrics are about black empowerment, and I think we had a more rich discussion because we were in book club together.”
Cerise and McAulay say they don’t plan to expand their membership; they feel that a group of their size works pretty well.
“We’re interested in helping others develop their own groups, to build deeper relationships, in their own spheres of influence,” Cerise says. “With that, more folks can voice their opinions and feel heard as well as listen to and learn from each other."
HOW TO START A CONVERSATION ABOUT RACE
Pam Fields
Even once we develop the desire to engage in more open conversations about race, it can feel difficult or awkward to know how to start. One way to do that is by taking the focus off the individual and talking more generally about how racism is entrenched within our American society. We have been socialized into this way of thinking and being. Our media and news, Hollywood, justice systems – everything reinforces negative stereotypes.
Next, you can take things to a more personal level by sharing your own experiences of debunking racism from your life. What are some misinformed beliefs and ideas you previously held that you now realize are incorrect? What information helped change your thinking?
Then, let the other person know that our collective challenge is to undo this thinking and being. We can do this by informing ourselves and by developing relationships with people of other cultures:
Seeking to be inclusive, not exclusive
Building new, equitable systems, not discriminatory and oppressive systems
Loving all, not just a few.
TINY GLIMPSES INTO MY WHITE PRIVILEGE
Jean McAulay
I am a white woman in middle age (as long as I live to 110). I can go anywhere and no one ever seems to think I’m up to no good no matter what I’m doing.
This hit home last week when I returned to Atlanta, where I had lived for 10 years, to visit old friends. One of the very first friends I made there moved out of the country just two years into our friendship. I’ve missed her now for 10+ years so, when I heard she had moved back to the area, I started digging around to find her and reconnect.
I found an address online but no phone number, email or social media contacts. So, back in Atlanta on this visit, I headed out to the address to knock on her door.
Through the gates
I pulled up to the neighborhood to find a gated community, common in Atlanta’s affluent suburbs. I sat at the gate and weighed my options. None of which was that I had better leave before anyone got suspicious or scared.
Then the mail carrier pulled up. I asked if he could confirm that he delivered mail to the name of my friend. He provided a long explanation of why he couldn’t share that information and I quietly listened. Until he started yelling, “Go, why don’t you go!”
Turns out a resident had pulled up, activated the gate and it was now open before me. Is there any chance the white male carrier would have urged me to drive through if I were a young black man? I seriously doubt it. A black woman? I don’t know.
In I went. I found my friend’s address, parked and knocked on the door feeling well within my rights to do so. When no one answered, I walked next door and knocked. Seconds later it swung wide open and a broad-smiled young white woman answered with a big hello. She confirmed that my friend did live next door and suggested she was likely out walking her dog.
Just hanging out
I thanked her and went to wait in the car. Minutes later with my head buried in my laptop, there was a tap at the car window. The police telling me to move on? No. That nice young woman offering my friend’s new cell number so I could call her.
I had a conference call coming up in just minutes so I sat in the car with my ear buds in and my laptop open for the next 20 minutes while I completed the call and waited for my friend. Did I feel suspicious? Unsafe? Like neighbors were probably calling the police? No, no and no. I felt like there wasn’t a reason in the world for anyone in that neighborhood to be concerned about my presence. And they weren’t.
Because we were both enjoying the balmy waters of our pervasive white privilege.
Swimming in it
Despite 55 years of living as a left-leaning progressive in various states and cities across the U.S. from the Northeast to the Midwest, Southeast and now Texas (its own region), it has taken me until just about now to realize I have always been swimming in a sea of white privilege.
Thanks to books like White Fragility by Robin DiAngelo and Whistling Vivaldi by Claude Steele and many others, I have finally started to get just the tiniest glimpse of the privilege and freedom afforded me by white skin.
But, more than anything, it has been the lived experience and relationship with the women of the Multicultural Women’s Book Group of Dallas who have opened my eyes. These smart, brave, kind, informative and patient (God, the patience!) strangers-become-friends have done even more than well-researched and written books to help me understand how different their daily experience in this country is than mine. And how difficult their everyday journey continues to be. And, of course, the deep fears they hold for the black men in their lives.
I have absolutely no answers but I suspect that understanding the depth and scope of our white privilege is a critical first step for white people. And then to start speaking up and pointing out the racism that defines nearly every part of our shared existence. I don’t know where this is taking me, but I’m quite certain this tiny glimpse of understanding requires that I become a different person moving forward.
Thank you MWBG members for sharing your insights, your truth and your friendship. I hope to be deserving of it.
What MWBG means in my life
Rhonda Bellamy Hodge, Member
How many of us have been in meetings, symposiums, conferences, or maybe even an impromptu gatherings of people who “say” we want to do “something” about the race, religion, immigration, sexism, gender, poverty, discrimination, or any of a myriad of society’s problems? We leave excited and pumped up with perhaps a few numbers typed into our phone or scribbled on scraps of paper. And if we’re really lucky, we clutch a coveted business card, hopeful that this time will be different.
In March of 2017, I attended a joint initiative between the Dallas Morning News and the Dallas Institute of Humanities and Culture. It was the culmination of a project called, “Questions of Color.” The gathering was an array of people, many with shared stores of personal experiences of racial injustices and discrimination. Additionally, I sensed there was a genuine desire by some to want to do “something” on a personal level to try to bridge the many gaps within our own environments.
At the end of the meeting, there was a seemingly natural graviton of a group of women obviously moved by the conversations but also by the desire to put our hopes for change and increased mutual understanding between women of different races, ages, careers, and socioeconomic levels into tangible actions. We were excited and did not want to let it pass as we returned to our separate lives, perhaps with our paths never crossing again. A sign-up sheet was passed around for those interested in continuing the conversations in some ways or another. Happily I signed up, hopeful that this time would be different. That we would make connections and begin to be active participants in making our lives and our communities better by forming meaningful relationships with women who perhaps we might not necessarily be in relationships with in “normal” situations.
Since the initial meeting of the Multicultural Women’s Book Group (MWBG), I’ve been pleased with our efforts to make this a group we are all proud of. From the book selections, to the interactive exercises, to the food fare — which often compliments the theme of the book, to the open and honest discussions, our gatherings are one of the highlights of my month.
Oftentimes, many of us want to live in greater understanding of other cultures, traditions, and circumstances our fellow sojourners are on. But we don’t know what to do. I say start where you are and seek out others with similar interests. With the added caveat being those who don’t necessarily look like you, are the same age, career, religious/spiritual background, etc.. The richness to be gained is immeasurable. The MWBG is an amazing example of what can be possible when we open ourselves up to new learning and life experiences, traveling along the paths of a variety of authors by which my desire to continue to be a lifelong learner is constantly enhanced.
Get in touch with us through our website and we’ll be happy to share our experiences and help you start your own group!