Truth Bomb

I have a questionable habit of sharing politically incendiary articles on Facebook. Usually no one reads them, but recently passions are high, with babies in concentration camps and ICE ransacking communities, etc. I shared the following list of steps to genocide. The list makes sense to me; has the ring of truth.

genocide

Then a Facebook stranger dropped some other heavy truth on me.

She commented:

Meh. The government is already on stages 8, 9 and 10 with Black people. The government has been on a continuous stage 8,9, and 10 with Black people. We’re not seeing how everyone else thinks this is something new that you guys are doing.

And I thought holy shit, she’s right. Despite reading and researching and listening and trying to understand the ways in which I benefit from white supremacy (ALL THE WAYS), my privilege is so deeply tentacled into the very fabric of life as a white person that it’s like trying to see through my skin. The United States was literally founded on white supremacy. Native Americans were of Satan, killed, enslaved, disregarded. Black people were the same.

White women aligned ourselves with all-powerful white men, ensuring our second in line to the top of the heap spot, where we remain. Money, power, security. We are safe and protected as long as we know our place. (see Christine Blasey Ford as explained by Brittney Cooper) White women learned about female political power from the Iroquois women, who held equal political power with men of their clan.* We fought for that power for ourselves, but left women of color behind. Because it was too hard to include them or because we just did not care? Now we vote for misogynistic and oppressive policies and people, the results of our votes (ok not mine, but 53% of us) negatively effect women of color more than anyone else.

This post has meandered. I know. I currently have no conclusions.

Song of the Day: Strange Fruit by Billie Holiday

Me and White Supremacy Challenge

*source-Washington Post article on suffrage movement

 The Uncomfortable Confessions Of a Preacher’s Kid

Fat White Royal Wally

I don’t know about you, but I didn’t sleep much last night.  More dead black men killed by police officers.  Children traumatized for life.   Five dead police officers.  Our beloved America feels like a dark, somber, hopeless place.  Now that these killings are on social media, no one can deny the problem.  Systemic racism is not new.  Overuse of deadly force against black men is not new.  The killing of police officers is not new, either.  Now we watch it happen.

While I do not begrudge anyone their personal faith, believe it or not, praying for peace is not enough.  Thoughts and prayers are not enough; not while people bleed to death on sidewalks.  Praying for peace serves one purpose:  to make yourself feel better and there is nothing wrong with that.  We would probably all like to feel better right now.  Send thoughts and prayers; by all means, do that.  And then get off your fat, white, royal wally and do something about it, because we have no right to relax.  I am speaking to myself here as much as anyone.  I have not lifted a finger to involve myself in this struggle beyond sharing stuff I didn’t write on Facebook, aka lip service.  I mean, I hardly ever even see black people in my white corner of town.  I see cops; they park outside the coffee shop in the park where I run and I feel safe and protected in case a seagull tries to snatch my hat.  Let’s be clear:  racism is a WHITE problem and will not change until white people like myself give enough of a crap to put down our phones and get to work in our communities.  It means getting uncomfortable.  It means getting political.  It means doing something.

As Trevor Noah so succinctly put it, we can, indeed we MUST, be both pro-law enforcement AND pro-black people.    It is not the job of black people to stop racism.  It is the job of white people.  In the same way that rape culture will never disappear without the direct involvement of men, racism will never be squelched without the direct involvement of white people.  It is not the job of the black community to tell us how, either, yet someone has graciously done so.   So what’s a sheltered fat-assed white woman to do?

What You Can Do Right Now About Police Brutality

15 Things Your City Can Do Right Now to End Police Brutality

I am still working my way through these.  Let’s get to work because I read somewhere that faith without works is dead.

Bob has no food.