The Undercover Introvert

Words Matter

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We’re suddenly talking nonstop about hard subjects like sexism and racism. If the last year and a half has taught us anything, it’s that we’re not nearly as far along as we thought in this country. The same way the #metoo movement was an eye opener for men about the pervasiveness of systemic sexism, seeing white supremacists marching openly in the streets was a wake up call for white America about how deep racism actually runs in this nation. Since Charlottesville, I’ve had many discussions with white folks. On the one hand, they want to know how they can help, but on the other, they are extremely resistant to the idea that they are most likely perpetuating systems of oppression without even knowing it. Change starts with acknowledging how you feed into the problem and then beginning the hard work to minimize that contribution. How? Well, I’m glad you asked. I’ve come up with a bit of a road map, complete with examples and comparisons, because that’s exactly how I roll. This first part of the road map involves phrases to excise out of your vocabulary like the malignant tumors they are. When we change the way we speak, we change the way we think, and that changes the world around us. Here we go.

1. I don’t see color

This sounds great, right? But it’s actually the opposite of great. I’m proud to be black and I’d like you to see me that way. The issue isn’t my color. The issue is the snap judgments you make when you see my color. That’s what needs to stop. And, usually, when someone says they don’t see color, it’s used as a way to shut down a POC who has called someone on some racist shit.

Let’s compare it to sexism, shall we? Imagine a man who said something seriously sexist and when called on it states that he doesn’t see gender. He just sees people, so there’s no way he can be a misogynist! That would never fly. And, fellas, we want you to see us as women. We just don’t want you to subject us to any of your sexist male nonsense.

2. I have a black friend!

If you’re called out for some messed up stuff that you say, resist the urge to hand us your racial resume. I don’t need to know that you have a black coworker, that you went to school with black kids, that you voted for Obama, or that you love MLK.

Bringing it back to sexism, would you accept a man’s excuse that he can’t have said something sexist because he knows women. He’s married to one. He has a daughter and a mother. That actually makes it worse, right? That he knows women and still reinforces the sexism inherent in every aspect of society? He needs to do better, not make B.S. excuses to shield himself from the consequences of his conduct.

Proximity to a marginalized group does not inoculate you from contributing to systems of widespread oppression. If that’s how it worked, there wouldn’t be any sexism or racism in the first place.

3. I’ve struggled my whole life, so I can’t have white privilege

I’ve heard this more times than I can count, and I always shut it down the same way. Privilege doesn’t have a damned thing to do with you as an individual, but rather the way societal structures reward groups of people for whiteness on the one hand while penalizing other groups of people for their non-whiteness on the other. You may not like the term white privilege, but that doesn’t change the fact that it exists in every institution in American society. Men don’t like the term male privilege very much either, but that doesn’t change the fact that society is uniquely suited to their specifications while the rest of us must work harder if we hope to achieve the same things.

4. I’ve been the victim of reverse racism

In case you haven’t heard, reverse racism isn’t a thing. Racism arises out of a system of supremacy used to keep one group of people elevated above another group, and that kind of oppression only runs one way in this country. So that one time a POC didn’t want to sit with you at lunch or be your friend has nothing to do with ‘reverse racism’. That person might just be a jerk…or it might be you. Hard to tell. I wasn’t there.

5. All lives matter!

If this is your response to black lives matter, you need to cease and desist. When someone says we need to save the rainforest, do you shout: all land matters? If so, you might need more help than I can provide here, because that would be ridiculous. Black and brown people are killed by police at disproportionately higher rates than white people. That’s just a fact. And just like wanting to protect the rainforest from destruction because it’s in crisis doesn’t mean screw all the other land on the planet, wanting to protect black and brown lives from rampant police brutality doesn’t mean all other lives don’t matter.

6. Stop pulling the race card

This one is ridiculous as well. I’m a black woman. That’s the lens through which I see the world. If you’re white, that’s your lens. It just so happens that your lens is the default in this country. It’s why I have to go to the ethnic section in the grocery store to buy my shampoo while you just get to go to the shampoo aisle. Men don’t get accused of making everything about being men, even though EVERYTHING IS LITERALLY ABOUT THEM HAVING PENISES ALL THE TIME. But white men are the default. The rest of us are just making everything about our feminist vagendas or pulling the race card. It’s a microaggression. It’s a way to shut down a voice that’s saying something you don’t want to hear. No one can shrug out of their skin or their sex, and it’s unacceptable to demand a person try to do so in order to make you more comfortable.

7. Talking about race is so divisive; let’s unite and focus on the ‘real’ issues

It’s extremely easy to tell folks not to worry about issues of inequality when you are the beneficiary of privilege–be it men telling women to set aside issues of gender inequality or white folks telling people of color to simmer down about racial inequality. In the last election cycle, issues that referenced these struggles for equality were called identity politics. But what isn’t identity politics? If you’re lucky enough that you are the default (stand up so we can see you, white gents), you’re interests just get called politics and the rest of us are told to wait quietly for our turn, which will come after all the ‘important’ work has been done…

Do you want to know what’s divisive? Inequality. That involves literally separating groups of people and putting certain groups above others. Contrary to popular belief, bringing up the fact that inequality exists isn’t divisive. It’s actually an attempt to bring people together.

This isn’t an exhaustive list by any means, but it’s a start. If you truly want to do better, change starts with the woman or man you see in the mirror.

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Learning to Say No

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I have absolutely no skill when it comes to saying no. How is it that I never managed to acquire this ability in the last 37 years? Well, this really shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone given the name of the blog, but I’m a functioning introvert. I’ve suffered from low to moderate social anxiety for as long as I can remember. I often have to put a knife to my own throat to go out, even when I’m looking forward to something. Once I get there, I warm up, but I need to recharge afterwards. My ideal evening is spent with my nose in a book or watching something from my Netflix queue. But now I find myself busier than I’ve ever been in my life and I’m struggling.

The political climate of 2016 compelled me to act. I woke up after Election Day in a black, desolate mood. As the days passed, that despair transformed into helplessness, frustration, and finally anger. I needed a way to burn through that fury, to transform it into something meaningful. But how?

I’d never been involved in any political or social activism. So, I joined every group I could find. My typical week went from going out once or twice max to being out every single night of the work week and all day on the weekend. I was organizing, putting events together, making phone calls to strangers (which I absolutely loathe above nearly all else), speaking to crowds, canvassing for the local branch of the Democratic Party, and heading up various local initiatives. Once you become known for showing up and working hard, people tend to call on you to keep doing it, and when there’s so much that needs to be done, you find yourself volunteering and allowing people to set as much as they’d like onto your narrow shoulders. You feel accomplished, but weary. This rush of frenzied activity causes chronic overextension, which exhausts you in a way that even a string of good nights’ sleeps cannot fix.

So, what’s to be done when you want to create as much change as you can but also don’t want to perpetually feel like sinking into bed and pulling the blankets over your head until everyone forgets you exist?

Over the last 12 months, I’ve come to realize that the answer is balance. Don’t accept too many projects and leadership roles. Make a list of priority items and decide how much work you can do without driving yourself insane. Take the recharge time for yourself that you desperately need. Don’t allow anyone to make you feel guilty for saying no.

Have I mastered any of what I’ve just suggested? Oh, hell no. Not even close. But I’m learning as I go, because I’ve never done this before.

During a protest early last year, I saw a sign that read: It’s so bad even introverts are here. I had to laugh at that because it’s true. We’re uncomfortable, but we’re here. Just don’t be surprised if you see us running away from you in a parking lot or something. No offense. We’ve just reached the limit for socializing that day…

The KKK is the Least of My Worries

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There’s been a lot of talk about race since Election Day 2016 and a lot of outrage on the part of white America at the sight of Nazis marching down Main Street as they spew hatred and hold their tiki torches high. These alarmed folks exclaim that since the election, racists are suddenly coming out of the woodwork, emboldened by Trump’s divisive rhetoric. But this just isn’t the case. The current administration is merely the symptom of a much more insidious disease, not the disease itself. It’s an ailment that has existed since before the birth of this nation and continues to fester to this day, interwoven into every facet of American life.

As a person of color, the in your face hatred of a proud KKK member is actually less problematic than the systemic, institutional racism that has festered and grown mostly unchecked over the last four hundred years. Why is that, you ask? Because so many people refuse to believe that this kind of all-encompassing racism even exists. If someone calls me a racial slur, or proudly waves a confederate or Nazi flag, I see that person. I know what that person stands for. The issue is where these people fit into society. Are they teaching my daughter at school? Are they conducting my job interview or processing my loan paperwork while simultaneously injecting conscious or subconscious racism? And it’s not just them. It’s the society that birthed and nurtured them.

When this country was born, people of color were property, and it stayed that way for hundreds of years. After slavery was abolished, Jim Crow laws were instituted to make sure blacks couldn’t rise above the status of even the poorest white person. Most people will acknowledge that ugly part of American history, but will also swear up and down that when the Civil Rights Movement took place, we were all finally equal, holding hands, and judging each other by the content of our character and not by the color of our skin. But that’s not true at all. The color of a person’s skin continues to make all the difference.

When I talk about racism, I don’t really mean the person calling me the N word. Not that it’s an uplifting experience to confront someone who hates you simply because of your skin color, but what I’m talking about runs much deeper. It’s the cop who stops me for something he’d never stop a white person for doing. It’s the inequity in the criminal justice system that gets me three times the sentence of a white offender who committed an identical crime. It’s the teacher, potential boss, or stranger on the street who looks at me and thinks ‘criminal’, ‘uneducated’, ‘single mother of four kids from four different fathers’, or ‘lazy welfare recipient’ solely based on the color of my skin, and then treats me accordingly, not giving me that job, that scholarship, or the time of day. It’s what makes a black or brown shooter a terrorist but a white shooter mentally ill and in need of society’s help. These things aren’t always in your face. They are the foundation upon which our society was given room to flourish and develop into the place it is today. As such, they are everywhere among us, guiding our actions and influencing the way we treat each other.

So, what do we do about it? I wish I had all the answers on how to tear down four hundred years of racial inequity and prejudice in our institutions and attitudes towards one another. But the first step is recognizing the problem for what it is and not allowing the narrative to be one that allows you to do nothing. Racism isn’t a problem that was taken care of in the 1960’s. It isn’t anything that can be blamed on the current administration. It existed well before all of us were born and, unless we do something drastic to start changing the situation, it will exist long after we are all dead. Condemning some blatant racists marching with tiki torches and then going back to the relative comfort of one’s normal life does nothing. We have to shine a light on the dark, ugly underbelly of our society, and we have to face some hard truths about ourselves and this country that we claim to love. We have to be courageous enough to be uncomfortable. Have those hard conversations, hold yourself accountable, and then do the same for those around you. Because if we don’t commit to doing better, absolutely nothing will change. I love this country enough to want to see it do better. Do you?

*Published in Florida Today and the Tallahassee Democrat.

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And So It Begins…

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This blog thing is brand new, so I feel the need to introduce myself. I’m a writer, reader, runner, activist, and functional introvert. I’m an Air Force brat afflicted with terminal wanderlust. I’m a divorced mother of one who loves dogs, food, and smashing the patriarchy. I’m a black woman adopted by white parents who raised a brown daughter. I’ve fallen in love in Italy, lived in Germany and Japan, learned to dive in Guam, and gone wreck diving off the coast of Hawaii. I’ve been so low I wondered if I’d ever see the sun again. I went to a hippie college on the west coast of Florida for undergrad and then started and stopped grad school in New York City. I’m a freelancer earning a living by the power of my imagination alone. I’m a community organizer fighting for racial justice and reproductive rights. I’m a feminist, rabble rouser, and proud member of the resistance. I have a degree in philosophy—get ready for the occasional cogito ergo sum—and a paralegal certificate. I’ve pressed restart on my life a few times since becoming an adult, most recently after the 2016 election cycle. Instead of curling up in the fetal position and lying still over the next 4 years, I decided to get active. That’s despite the social anxiety. If I can do it, anyone can and should.

That’s one hell of an information dump and it doesn’t even begin to cover what goes on in my head or where I’ve been in the last 37 years. I imagine that will come with time and effort. I have so much to say, and expressing myself in words has always come as easily as breathing. It’s actually my preferred method of communication. In other words, prepare for verbosity on an epic scale. Words are my jam and writing has been much more than a hobby since middle school. The world’s been on fire for a while now but, somehow, most of us are just noticing for the first time. It won’t all be doom and gloom, though. There’s hope too, and humor. What would life be without laughing, screaming, writing, worrying, and dreaming?

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