On Racism in North America

I cannot believe that 2020 is only half over.

Sounds strange, right? Aren’t we always musing about the speed at which we fly through time? But so much is different this year, and we’re ALL feeling it.

The COVID19 pandemic is keeping many of us mostly at home so we can avoid spreading a barely-understood virus to our friends, family and neighbours.

As a result, the economy has tanked and people are finding themselves out of work. While my family hasn’t personally been impacted by that, thank goodness, uncertainty and instability is something I’m very sensitive to. I feel it for you, friends.

On top of that, my community suffered a massive flood of its downtown and adjoining neighbourhoods at the end of April. About 13,000 residents were evacuated from their homes, which of course brings up old feelings from the 2016 wildfire. A flood during a pandemic and economic downturn? And that was just in April/May, though the reconstruction process is ongoing.

Add to that, two words: Murder Hornets.

While all this was happening in Canada and around the world, in the United States, a video began to be shared of a police officer kneeling on the neck of a man he’d just arrested. The man begged for his life. Told the officer he couldn’t breathe. Called for his mother. And then went silent. In the nine-minute video, we watched a white police officer kill a black man on the street.

His name was George Floyd, and his death has led to protests in all 50 states and in many places in Canada and across the world. His death has sparked a long-overdue conversation about racism, white supremacy and police brutality. For perhaps the first time for many, we’re not just talking about HOW racism manifests, but WHY it’s still happening, WHERE it came from, and WHAT needs to change in order to create a more equal, equitable and just society.

And it’s been made clear that conversations alone will no longer do. Yes, the protests began following George’s death, but his was only the latest death of a Black man at the hands of a white police officer. His death was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

I will admit that I am not an expert on the subject of racial justice, only that I know and I’m teaching my children that the colour of a person’s skin should never be a determining factor in how that person is treated and viewed in the world. That our differences are beautiful, they tell the stories of who we are, and they are worthy of love and respect. This should be standard teaching, so why do I feel like it’s pushing against the common worldview?

We live in a messed-up world of power struggles and systemic white supremacy, and so it is our responsibility to listen, learn, speak up and act against racism. That’s something we haven’t been doing. White people, by and large, have been ignoring the glaring injustices and inequality embedded in our culture, laws and policies. Or, if we’re aware that racism is a problem, we for some reason feel like we’re powerless to name and change it. Yes, even in Canada, where I live. We think that because it’s not right in our face, it doesn’t exist. We can only handle so much activism before we’re “exhausted” and need to take a break, while BIPOC (Black, Indigenous and People of Colour) are forced to continue the fight day in and day out. We’re late to the party and too many of us want to leave early. It’s white privilege that allows us to float in and out of activism when we can find space for it in our lives.

That is no longer an excuse. With social media, the injustices BIPOC experience are delivered literally right into our hands. We can’t ignore it anymore. We can’t explain it away, though many people are still trying to.

(Please note: I use the terms “us” and “we” because a)I believe my audience is largely white, though not entirely so. I understand my words may not resonate with everyone and b) I recognize that even being self-aware of my privilege doesn’t absolve me of the sins of the society I was raised in. I am learning alongside the rest of the white population who’s just showing up now.)

So over the last couple of weeks, I’ve been having more conversations with my son (5 is NOT too young to talk about racism and why it’s wrong) and husband, more conversations with family members. I’ve been sharing the works of Black authors and scholars on my social media platforms. I’ve paid Black creators for their work.

It’s not nearly enough to make up for 450 years of oppression. We know this world won’t be healed right away. But I am hopeful that we are entering a new era where white people are more aware of how their words and actions affect others, and I hope it leads to new leaders being elected who will enact meaningful change.

So what does that mean for our culture and society going forward? I think it means we can’t give up when we feel uncomfortable. We have to keep reading, listening to and sharing the words of Black activists. We have to believe BIPOC when they tell us how they’ve been discriminated against, abused and attacked. We have to continue to push for change.

White supremacy depends on maintenance of the status quo. It depends on white people getting “tired” of feeling uncomfortable and allowing things to go back to normal. It depends on white people failing to speak up for fear of alienating themselves from family or friends. It depends on white people getting distracted by efforts of those in power to derail the movement by invalidating or dehumanizing victims.

Continue to fight that. Continue to ask yourself hard questions. Continue to re-evaluate the institutions you’re a part of. You may be surprised when you start seeing everywhere what BIPOC have been pointing out all along, that racism is insidious and underlines nearly everything we take for granted.  

And just in case you’re still wondering what my beliefs are on the subject, I’ll make it crystal clear.

BLACK LIVES MATTER.