Turn Around and Face the Truth:11/24

*I will preface this entry with some caveats:
1. This entry is not about reiterating ( and thereby aggrandizing) the existence of white privilege, it’s about recognizing our own inherent roles and experience within systems of oppression. 2. I am not acting on behalf of the white privileged everywhere, and I am no one’s savior. This is necessary cognitive labor I feel white, cis, hetero(passing) folks should be doing everyday to change the landscape of equality in this country. 3. I am a deeply flawed human being who makes mistakes and gets it wrong all the time. I am and do not see myself as a superior white person whose job it is to purposefully educate all the other white folks who I feel are getting it wrong. Because we are all getting it wrong in some way and none of us is perfect. We have all been indoctrinated, and we are all trying to exist and understand while floating in the same fish bowl. Let’s remember, in this country, education is it’s own form of privilege. Not everyone( BIPOC or white) has access to academic information, data, and rigorously vetted papers with anecdotal statistics. Nor does everyone(BIPOC or white) have the time or energy for this kind of cognitive labor. A lot of folks are grappling with working long hours to earn very little money just to feed children and stay alive. Before you get all sanctimonious, understand that is just one factor that makes this work such a slow process. If you are going to do this work(and we all should be at the very least, trying) you must have some patience for yourself and others. This work is slow-going and it is hard to grapple with that fact. I fail with my own follow through too. I grapple with my fuck-ups too. That’s part of this work. You must be okay with feeling uncomfortably AND have a healthy does of humility.

From the journal November 2024:

The degree to which we can grow is in direct proportion to the amount of truth we can accept about ourselves—with grace, with compassion, and without running away.

Today, I find myself grappling with this profound truth, teetering on the precipice of introspection as I peer into the reality of my own identity. It feels like a weight pressing down, a reminder of the complexities that shape our existence.

As a white, cis, straight-passing woman, I have spent much of my life wrapped in the warm embrace of a comfort I hardly questioned in my youth. This comfort has been soothing, yes, but it has also acted as a heavy shroud—one that envelops and constrains me, isolating me from the stark realities faced by others. Navigating this treacherous terrain of self-awareness forces me to confront my own complicity in the systems of oppression that have shaped our world.

It has become clear that being an effective ally isn't simply about well-meaning gestures; it involves knowing when to use my privilege to advocate for equality and equity. It means calling out injustice when I see it, but also recognizing when it’s time to step back and create space for those who have been historically kept from positions of power. It’s not enough to give marginalized individuals a seat at the table; they should be leading the conversation, pulling out chairs for their sisters, brothers, and siblings.

This is where the current political climate weighs heavily on my heart. The echoes of Donald Trump's presidency resonate like a cacophony of division, racism, and sexism, reminding me of our desperate need for change. It’s essential for me to own my responsibility in upholding these structures while granting myself and others grace to accept our failures. This is dangerous territory. The specter of white saviorism looms in every shadow, whispering seductive lies about redemption and superiority. We must resist the urge to presume that BIPOC individuals or anyone else desires our level of privilege; whiteness is not the pinnacle of existence. It is merely one thread in the vast, intricate tapestry of humanity.

In this tumultuous landscape, I have come to realize that many people in positions of dominance drift through life unaware of their own stories, while those who are marginalized are often thrust into the depths of their own narratives, forced to confront the larger stories that entrap us all. Something has been stolen from each of us; our heart’s voice, once vibrant and full of life, lies obscured beneath layers of conditioning and societal expectations.

We must cultivate compassion for that voice—both in ourselves and in others. Each of us needs a sacred space to reclaim our story, to sift through the fragments of our identity, and to recognize the power inherent in our truth. We are all touched by the oppressive structures that loom over us. If you believe you lack a story because of your privilege, it may mean you are keeping your head in the dark, blind to the complexities of your existence in relation to oppression.

It is only when we unearth our stories that we can begin to understand the ways we have been conditioned. To reclaim myself, I have delved into the depths of my own psyche, confronting the very systems that have shaped my thoughts and actions. This reclamation necessitates hard, reflective labor—an unflinching grappling with the conditioning that has obscured my true self.

Our social conditions are the architects of our minds. In this country, the collective consciousness is steeped in oppression, saturated with the poison of white supremacy and patriarchy. This is the inheritance we were born into. If we can’t comprehend this inheritance's nature, we remain blind to how it unfolds within us. We cannot grasp the myriad ways in which we contribute to these systems every single day.

Right now, I sit with these thoughts, allowing them to churn within me like a storm. I refuse to shy away from the discomfort they bring. Instead, I lean into it, letting my rage and sorrow coalesce into something transformative. I seek out spaces where I can listen—truly listen—to the voices that have been most silenced and negatively affected by our current political climate, to the stories that have been buried.

For it is only through this understanding that we can begin to dismantle the structures that bind us. It is through recognizing our own stories, shaped by both privilege and pain, that we can learn to navigate the complexities of our existence and ultimately find liberation—not just for ourselves, but for all Americans.

With a heart heavy yet hopeful, I embrace this difficult and complex truth, ready to face the shadows that lie ahead. We are entering dark times, but we need only remember we only need the smallest amount of the light to illuminate our next step forward.