Thank you to Denise Krebs for sharing a bit of her history in her blog post titled "Unlearning" here.
This prompt was created by Defne Egbo. “Reflect on the first time you became aware of race—either yours or someone else’s. What meaning did you make of it then? How has that meaning evolved?” I believe this prompt is from The Isolation Journals with Suleika Jaouad.
The first time I became aware of my race was in third grade when my best friend Lauren called me a "Honky." We'd had an argument, she called me a honky, and I went home and asked what it was. My parents (both? I'm not sure) told me, "A honky is a White person." Oh. I was fine with that. Then they added, "You probably don't want to be friends with her anymore." I knew we'd gotten into an argument, but that didn't mean we couldn't be friends anymore. I remember loving her phone number. It spelled "Buy - A - Cow." Our phone number spelled "Buy - Melo," which wasn't so cool. Sure enough, the days after that, Lauren didn't talk to me anymore. I don't know what I said or did now. I don't remember the argument.The second time I became aware of my race was in fifth grade after Mom dropped off Mohan at his house. We'd car pool from trumpet practice after school. Mom let me know, "You can't date him." What?! I was in fifth grade! I wasn't thinking of dating! And Mohan was a great friend, so what was wrong with him anyway?! I was made aware that he wasn't White. I remember thinking, that it's okay. I don't want to date anyone anyway. We were just friends.
I grew up (and have always lived) in a predominately White neighborhood, sheltered from... well... everything. I read a ton, didn't go out much, and enjoyed my simple life. When I started college, I heard the name Rodney King, and wondered what that was all about. I just looked up this man today. How naive was I in my own little world? How naive am I still?
My grandparents held some serious racism. My grandfather didn't want a Black man in his house. I was in college at the time, and Papa followed this man around the house, not looking at him. My mom did the talking for him, as he was there to repair something. I remember thinking, what's wrong with Papa? I didn't know it was because he was Black. My mom had to tell me.
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I went grocery shopping this morning. Sometimes I wonder, "Is this real? Do we all need to wear masks? Is it still going on?" The numbers say yes, for sure.
The New York Stock Exchange went silent for 8 minutes and 46 seconds at the start of George Floyd's funeral yesterday. This was the length of time the police officer held his knee on Floyd's neck. It was the longest moment of silence on the stock exchange floor in its 228-year history. (New York Times update in my email box.)
The drivers of NASCAR want the confederate flag taken down at their races.
I listen to these to on Sports Center, and they have some beautiful conversations about race.
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| Tony Kornheiser & Mike Wilbon |
It seems as if every large group is saying, in some shape or form, that Black Lives Matter. There is hope in all they say.
Meanwhile... Trump is not showing any empathy for anyone. He blames and distracts. Constantly.
Joy, I enjoyed reading your post. I know our phones had letters associated with each number when I was a kid, but my friends and I never used them to figure out what the words said. I was just trying to figure out words from my childhood number! "Ode at 0m" was the best I could do.
ReplyDeleteIt is good we are lifelong learners, as we have new lessons for our futures. And, as you say, it is good that the world has finally stood up to take notice, finally saying Black Lives Matter.
Everyone but the *resident in the White House. (That's what @MsPackyetti calls him) That has long been my prayer that everyone would see the "emperor's" nakedness and emptiness, and collectively turn their backs on him. It looks like it took a pandemic and a racial justice revolution, but he will be left behind.
You're right the prompt was from the Isolation Journals. Carry on, my friend.