The Undercover Introvert

On Losing and Hope, Pt. 2

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Here we are again, back at the drawing board.

Our minds are reeling from losses that feel like vicious assaults to common decency and essential fairness. Many of us are stunned and saddened. Others are furious. Still others feel set adrift on a churning sea of despair.

We’ve been here before — feeling lost and bewildered as half of the voters around us are celebrating a win for racism, for sexism, for bigotry in all its forms. Not to mention the danger these losses pose to the already fragile environment. Access to healthcare. Critical funding for public education. The list goes on, and just thinking about it makes our stomachs twist into knots and our bones grow heavy with sorrow. The thought of curling up in the fetal position and just giving up altogether is overwhelmingly appealing.

Here’s the thing: there is still so much hope.

You just have to look past the immediate, staggering losses in order to see it.

Here in Florida, more than 60% of Sunshine State voters passed Amendment 4, putting an end to the Jim Crow era lifetime voter disenfranchisement of former convicted felons. That opens the door to 1.5 million potential voters to join the rolls in time for the 2020 election cycle. In a state where gubernatorial and senate races are often won or lost by 1 percentage point, adding event fifteen percent of those brand spanking new voters could be a seismic shift to the electorate.

Nationwide, Democrats picked up enough congressional seats to give them the majority in the House.

I’m going to repeat that for those folks in the back:

DEMOCRATS NOW HAVE CONTROL OF THE HOUSE.

This is what we’ve been working for since November of 2016. It’s our check on the Executive Branch. No one expected us to win the Senate, but this win means we will set the agenda in the House, and nothing will get passed without Democratic support. No more rolling over us. Having the chambers split the way they are will force compromise, which is how government is supposed to work. No more winner takes all. Get ready for bipartisan legislation that will move our country forward. Or complete gridlock, which won’t bode well for you know who in 2020. This victory was a crippling blow to the Executive Branch and a big win for grassroots organizers everywhere.

Also, y’all, we elected over 100 women to the House for the first time ever. And many of them are women of color. Representation matters. Having more women at the table will prioritize issues that impact our communities. We need diversity of thought, of representation, of socioeconomic and cultural backgrounds. We are closer now than we’ve ever been to true representation in government, and that’s incredibly satisfying and uplifting.

Nothing about this work is fast or easy. As the old cliche goes, this is a marathon, not a sprint. Marathons are grueling. They take so much out of you and leave you wondering why in hell you are even bothering to do this in the first place. I can tell you why I’m bothering to do it: because I don’t have any other choice. As a black woman, these fights are personal. Any movement backwards puts people who look like me at immediate risk. But it’s not just about me. It’s about every marginalized group, every working class family, every child who deserves a quality public education, every senior who shouldn’t have to choose between their medication or their mortgage payment. We’re all at risk. That’s a lesson we learned the hard way in 2016.

I find motivation from looking backwards to those who fought harder than I could ever imagine. Those who risked their lives in the hopes that, one day, someone like me could have the opportunities that I enjoy without a second thought. I draw strength from their sacrifices and leadership. They didn’t give up when the cause for which they were fighting could literally cost them their lives. I’m not going to give up either.

History is a wheel, y’all. I see that more with every passing day. And change comes slowly…but we have to keep pushing for it. We have to keep shedding our blood, our sweat, our tears.

Take the time to lick your wounds, mourn your losses, learn from mistakes made and challenges not overcome. But celebrate the wins too. They are everywhere.

The first Muslim women elected to Congress. The first Native American women elected to Congress. The first openly gay governor. The first Democratic Latina governor. The first black woman elected to Congress from the state of Massachusetts. Guam’s first Democratic female governor. Texas’s first Latina Congresswomen. Iowa’s first ever women elected to Congress. We flipped seats nationwide, y’all, and put more women into positions of leadership and power. And we had real wins in our local races too. City, county, and state seats matter.

If you can’t see the hope yet, give yourself some time. But don’t stop looking for the light in the darkness. Find that light and hold it closely, because there’s so much work to be done.

I’m ready to get back to the hustle (after a day or two of Netflix binge watching and a nap). I don’t know where the hell this optimism comes from, but I feel it, and I know we need to get back to work. Nothing will change until we change it ourselves. This is our time.

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Sexism 101: the Benevolent Misogynist

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Women have a strange relationship with compliments, mostly because so many come unsolicited from strange men whenever we venture out in public. But there are other kinds of compliments that are more backhanded than creepy, and the men offering them aren’t the folks you might expect. These guys respect their mothers, love their daughters, and would take a bullet for their sisters, wife, or girlfriend. Oftentimes, these are men we know and with whom we have close relationships. We love them and they love us…but they are also perpetrators of the deepest, most insidious brand of sexism.

These men are products of a society that forever tilts in favor of the masculine. They are raised to respect women while also reinforcing a women’s biological limitations. They are well versed in gender roles, and the sexism they exhibit upholds and validates those societal norms, taught from cradle to grave, to all children, regardless of race or socioeconomic background.

This kind of sexism works like a lullaby. We walk through life hearing this soothing music, and it doesn’t occur to us until much later that there might be a problem with the underlying melody…if it ever occurs to us at all. Many of us simply internalize the music and it provides the persistent soundtrack to all of our life decisions and movements in the world.

The benevolent misogynist, always marching to the beat of this insidious tune, delivers his gentle oppression by way of a complement:

Women are just natural born nurturers.

That seems like a harmless observation, right? Maybe even a good thing? But let’s unpack the statement.

What roles do nurturers play in our society? They typically concern themselves with the raising and teaching of children. They take care of elderly relatives. They nurse folks back to health. Most importantly, they remain in positions devoid of power while others take care of running the world.

Think about it.

What kinds of ‘compliments’ have you heard about women’s perceived skill sets in the past?

Women are better at raising children.

Women are the backbone of the family.

Women are better at managing a household.

There is nothing inherently wrong with these statements. But, beneath the sparkly pink veneer, they perpetuate stereotypes about women and their so-called limitations. They turn a weakness into a seeming strength, creating a gilded cage that doesn’t simply keep women from rising too high in society, but actually keeps them from wanting to escape the cage in the first place. The cage is good, because women are just the kinds of creatures that must be contained and, therefore, thrive in such places.

Women are biologically equipped to birth children, but that doesn’t mean they should be the sole source of childrearing. As a group, women have come a long way in the last 50 years, but society still expects them to be the primary caretaker of home and family. Wanting more is seen as odd — a woman woefully outside of her element.

Men who reinforce these stereotypes are part of the problem, whether they intended to hold women back or not. Misogyny is systemic, y’all, which means it underpins every institution in American society. We’re all raised with sexist ideas about gender roles and what men and women can and can’t do. And not just can and can’t do, but should and shouldn’t do. Despite the advances in the workplace, things still look like the 1950s inside the home, with women doing the majority of the heavy lifting even if they are employed elsewhere full time. As with most forms of widespread oppression, these kinds of stale ideas hold back both women and men.

Benevolent misogynists seem supportive, and they probably think they are supportive, but they are actively upholding outdated stereotypes about ability on the basis of gender that put unnecessary limits on the women around them. When a man tells a woman she shouldn’t seek full time employment outside the home because he can’t soothe their child as well as she can, that’s not a compliment. It’s a way of keeping her wings clipped, but nicely, so she might not even notice she’s lost the ability to fly.

Socialization plays a huge part in this, and we’re all victims of it as well as perpetrators. Step one is to stop listening to the lullaby. Wake up and be intentional in your words and actions. And never accept a boundary masquerading as a compliment, no matter how nicely it’s offered.

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To Those Spreading Light in These Dark Times

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For those hustling day in and day out to make this world a better place: this is for you.

Because you’re out there, knocking doors, making phone calls, building events that you pray don’t fold in on themselves like the delicate collection of blood, sweat, and tears that they are.

You’re perpetually MacGyvering something out of absolutely nothing, and getting media to cover it, spreading the word, the message, the hope so fragile you dare not speak of it aloud.

You’ve worked all year for this moment. And not just this year. Some of you have been working for decades.

This is the time away from your family, your friends, the quiet moments at home that help maintain your sanity.

You’ve pushed, prodded, cajoled, threatened, cried tears of joy, of sorrow, of despair. You’ve thrown up your hands, cursed, closed your eyes, dropped your aching head, and wondered why you’re still doing this.

But you haven’t given up.

You go onto the next house after one person slams the door in your face.

When the person on the line curses at you and hangs up, you make another call. And another. And another.

You watch precious days of planning, of work, of moments you can never get back, scatter like ashes in the wind, leaving you right back where you started.

And, still, you keep going.

The hustle lasts as long as your belief does. At the end of the night, that belief seems finite, but, in the morning, here it is again, waiting to be actualized as you down a few cups of coffee and head out to face another day that won’t be anything like the one before it. And tomorrow? Who the hell knows what those fresh hours will bring.

Breaking news hits the airwaves — a natural disaster, a curveball of a court ruling or Supreme Court appointment — and everything you painstakingly planned falls apart. You rebuild, stacking events on top of each other to create a workable schedule — the meet and greets, interviews, rallies, town halls, forums, meetings, fundraisers, canvasses, phonebanks, trainings, and teleconferences, the webinars you don’t even remember after they end. You send emails while you listen to another phone meeting, forever worrying about budgets and digital media reach, and social media content, and did you remember to invite the right people to the right events? Have enough attendees RSVP’d? Did you call to confirm? Will media show up? Will anyone? Your skin crawls, your stomach twists, and that dread never leaves you. One wrong step, and it feels like the entire operation will cave in on itself.

You forget to eat. You don’t exercise. You fall into bed at the end of the night exhausted, mind reeling with possibility, with excitement, frustration, and anxiety. You wake still drained, your bones heavy, but you down more coffee, and get back to work.

The. Hustle. Never. Ends.

But you can feel the power in what you’re doing. The purpose. It shivers in the pit of your empty stomach where all manner of caffeine goes to die. The idea of what you’re working towards keeps you going more than the actual details. The details don’t matter. The goal shimmers on the horizon, just out of reach.

And then?

Your initiative moves forward.

You collect enough petitions.

Your event is a well-attended success.

Volunteers are showing up in droves.

Your candidate is up in the polls, is on TV, is blowing fundraising goals out of the water, is turning to thank you for all your hard work.

At that moment, everything is worth it.

This is an ode for those spreading light in these dark times. Those who know how to turn pain into persistence, despair into direction, helplessness into hope. This is for everyone sprinting towards a finish line they can’t yet see.

Keep running, and pushing, and making it happen.

Change doesn’t come to those who wait. Change comes to those who do.

Doers, take care of yourselves, because this hustle never really ends.

But I’m here with you, in the trenches, in the dark searching for the fabled light at the end of a tunnel that goes on forever.

The movement is you, is us, is everything.

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Racism 101: Colorblindness

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I’m worried about a large swath of white folks here in America. It’s shameful that no one is talking about this issue when there are literally thousands of people struggling with a disability that should have been addressed by medical professionals long ago.

Apparently, many Caucasian Americans aren’t able to properly see color. Just imagine how hard this makes day to day life. Driving, picking out matching clothing, becoming fighter jet pilots. Is this some kind of epidemic that only afflicts the melanin-deficient? What can be done about this obviously crippling affliction of colorblindness?

Fortunately, there actually is a cure: education.

I wish I had a dollar for every white person who told me she doesn’t see color after being called out for saying or doing something racially insensitive. I’d have a whole lot of dollars. Whenever I hear this tired refrain, if I’m in a good mood, I reply with: that must make navigating stoplights difficult. If I’m not in a good mood, I reply with something more along the lines of: bullshit.

What is the source of this seemingly convenient affliction? The culprit seems to be a deliberate misreading of a portion of Martin Luther King, Jr.’s most famous speech (and often the only MLK the white person in question has ever heard and/or read):

“I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.”

Beautiful, right?

But to these white folks who have chosen to believe they don’t see color, what they hear in that single line of a single speech MLK gave in the 1960’s is that he had a dream that, one day, no one would notice that he was black. That he would be whitewashed and everything would be great in America in this post-racial version of Orwell’s 1984…

Um, no.

What the man was actually saying — and I have had to school dozens upon dozens of white folks over the years on this very point — is that he dreamt of a time when his children would be judged by who they show themselves to be through their actions and not automatically by who white people think they must be based solely on their skin color.

Acting like you don’t see color isn’t an excuse for racist fuckery. Racism is interwoven into the cloth that makes up the very fabric of America. That’s what makes it systemic. No one grows up in this country without either benefiting from or suffering because of these systems of oppression. So, just because you have a friend who is black or you voted for Obama (twice!) doesn’t mean you aren’t a product of a racist society that has had a hand in shaping your every thought and action.

Stop using Martin Luther King, Jr. as a weapon against black folks, y’all. Stop. He was a radical thinker who was hated by the establishment back in his day. Let’s not forget, the man was assassinated for crying out loud. That’s how much of a threat he was to the white owned status quo. You don’t get to use a single line from one of his speeches to absolve your racist and insensitive behavior.

Look, there’s nothing wrong with acknowledging that people are different colors. I’m black and I’m proud, as the song goes. The trouble starts where your preconceived notions come into play. You see a black person and make judgments based solely on skin color about criminality, sexuality, intellect, etc. Your prejudice is the problem MLK was talking about, not the actual color of my skin.

Colorblindness only when it pertains to skin color is not a thing. Stop pretending that it is. And stop using this made up affliction as a shield to deflect from all insinuation that your words or actions, no matter how unintended, actively work to uphold systems of oppression.

You see color. We all do. Claiming otherwise is willfully absurd and ignorant. And, y’all, stop dragging MLK into this foolishness.

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Why She Waited So Long to Report

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The short answer? She didn’t.

Growing up, I had a creepy, handsy cross country coach who made all the girls on the team uncomfortable. For months, we all talked about it, but no one did anything. I told friends and the boys on the team. Finally, I went to my mother. We ended up talking to the vice principal who made it clear this wasn’t anything he cared about. The coach was only removed from the team after massive, prolonged pushback from my mother. If not for that, he’d have continued to coach our team for the remainder of the season. He still coached the girls basketball team in the winter, though, and also stayed on as a special ed teacher until, years later, he was caught abusing one of his students.

Here’s the thing, besides this article and one other I wrote about this asshole, I haven’t spoken much about this incident, or any of the other men who have made me uncomfortable or touched me when I gave them no permission. But I can guarantee you that if I saw one of these fuckers running for political office or up for a Supreme Court appointment, I’d be on the phone to any media outlet who would listen. I would shout what happened from the rooftops. And people hearing my story would likely wonder:

This was years ago. Why did she wait so long to report?

Well, I didn’t. I just happened to be born female in a world that neither values women and girls nor believes their claims of assault, cruelty, or rape when reported.

I can’t count the times a friend has told me about an incident in confidence that ends with: I told my mother/father/uncle/aunt/friend/teacher and wasn’t believed.

It happens ALL THE TIME.

And sometimes you are believed, but you’re shamed into not telling anyone else. Think of his family. His future. Are you sure you didn’t ask for it? Were you drinking? What were you wearing? Did you say no forcefully enough? And on and on.

The grown ass vice principal sat across from 16 year old me and had the balls to tell me he hugged students all the time after I told him this coach continued to touch me after I asked him repeatedly to stop. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d gone to my mother and she hadn’t believed me. Or, worse, if she’d believed me but told me it was no big deal. Actually, I do know what I would have done — I’d have sucked it up and let it go.

And that’s society’s message to women and girls: suck it up and let it go. It’s not a big deal. Boys will be boys. Locker room talk. He’s only pushing you because he likes you. Over and over again from cradle to grave. Women are discounted and their experiences minimized. We’re told to be grateful for male attention, no matter the form, no matter how unwanted.

So, I don’t ask what took so long for a woman to come forward. I know that, in some way not evident to the general public, she already told her story to someone. Not every unwanted ass slap and rape attempt results in a criminal conviction or police report. For some reason, we as a society equate that to the objective fact of the incident’s occurrence. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. These things happen every day, and no one is brought to justice. No one is prosecuted. Women and girls suck it up. They let it go.

The next time you start to wonder aloud about why a woman waited five, ten, or twenty years to report an assault, just STFO instead. Because speaking up is hard when you live in a culture working every day to silence you. Talking becomes a revolutionary act, and the punishment for opening your mouth is severe. Remember that before you heap on scorn and disbelief. Just listen. Hear her. And believe her.

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