Being Sad Doesn’t Change Anything. Here’s What Does:
Hi y’all. Emily here. (Like always, lol.)
This week I had a lot of feelings. But sadness swooped in and claimed the grand prize for “feeling of the week.” So I decided to take my own advice and write about it, and hopefully, by the end of all of this, we’ll have learned something. Not from me, but from powerful voices for change who were brave and kind enough to provide me with information I should’ve found on our own.
For starters, I won’t even try and summarize what’s happening in the world right now in regards to racial injustice and police violence. It’s such a huge issue, where would we even start? Well, I think this question, often sincerely asked by outgoing yet polite white girls like me, is what has prevented us from making bigger strides in the past. The problem is so big, how do I even begin? Luckily, this week I found a starting point.
My own community.
You see, this past week something powerful happened. My perception of my college experience was shattered and I was introduced to my own ignorance. It started with one incredibly brave former classmate of mine from Pace University’s boutique Musical Theater program taking to our private Facebook page and sharing his account of being a black student led by faculty, and surrounded by peers, who, time and time again, greeted him with systemic racism, power trips, and the most ignorant speech you can ever imagine. And then another student shared their similar experience. And then another. And another. And another.
And overnight, I watched this Facebook page, typically filled with auditions, theater opportunities, and words of wisdom, become a lesson far greater than anything my student loans paid for, during my time at Pace. Because, as these brave voices started to share their downright awful experiences, I realized something.
I was there.
I was at this school. With these students. At the same time. And I did nothing. Actually, you know what’s worse? I did less than nothing. Because I was preoccupied fighting my own battles and doing my “awkward girl struggling to maintain her newfound self-confidence” thing and trying to stand up to bully teachers like Ryan Scott Oliver, demanding a refund for my meal plan after our university café was shut down by the health department (not a joke), and desperately trying to get cast in something, anything that would validate the wavering confidence I was slowly finding, despite not feeling cool enough to be invited on Aaron Albert’s super secret spring break trip. I was busy fighting for me, and only me.
And after hearing these terrifying accounts of the racism that existed in what I thought was an incredibly “progressive” program, I went to say “I can’t believe it!” and immediately stopped myself. Because I could believe it. I had seen tiny slivers of warning signs. Actually, that’s bullshit. I saw BIG warning signs. I saw massive FIRES of warning signs from toxic people in power, but all I did was protect myself and fight my privileged fight.
I could go on and on, but I don’t want this to turn into a post bashing my alma mater. And also, I don’t have time for that. Because it’s time to get to work. And as I saw my former friends and classmates speaking out about their experiences, and accepting my own complacency throughout all of it, I realized that this isn’t a college thing. It’s not a Pace thing. And it’s not a musical theater thing. It’s a world thing. And every person I know shouldn’t have to relive their traumatizing discrimination on a Facebook page in order for me to get the point.
So I’ve spent this week listening, absorbing, and trying to identify the things within my own self that need work and change, in order to become a better ally. And that’s when I realized that when massive flaws in the society we’ve come to sign an invisible contract with (Watch This) rear their gnarly heads, the idea of change can be overwhelming. How do I fix police injustice- I’m not a cop? How do I stop the white washing of musicals (I highly recommend this piece by Salisha Thomas) and discriminatory casting practices in the theater world, when I live halfway across the world, for goodness sake? How can I effectively convince every close minded person on Facebook that “All Lives Matter” ain’t it, and will never be it?!
You start at home. You start by listening. And, in my case, you start with yourself.
Casual racism, discrimination, and deliberate mistreatment is happening everywhere. And yes, Europe included. (Racism is very much alive over here, there’s just a hell of a lot less guns.) So instead of harping upon the better person I should’ve been to my musical theater community in college, why not focus on the community around me now? Breaking it down and starting in my own neighborhood, apartment, and mind is the only way change will happen, in my privileged opinion. That’s when the ridiculous question of “how can I help?” posed to people who’ve been crying out for help for hundreds of years, suddenly starts to morph into action.
A few pieces of my current community:
-A lot of white girls on Instagram
-”Progressive”, startup-inclined Germans
-Colleagues all over the world, working to make online courses for an incredibly diverse batch of students
How am I holding myself accountable? I mean, honestly y’all, I grew up in the whitest place ever and that casual racism and tinted telling of history is not something you can get rid of overnight, thanks to a few eye-opening Facebook posts. So I’m sitting back, listening, absorbing, and floundering my way through information to try and be a less awful human.
So my start this week was:
-Actively seek out more diverse people whose energy I vibe with on Instagram, and follow inspirational voices of change and concrete action. I’m not just finding random black people to follow on Instagram. I believe that would fall into that ridiculous “Oh, well I have black friends” defense, and I have no intention of going there. But I am left wondering why I never filled my Instagram feed with more diversity before…
-Throwing politeness and expat etiquette out the window, and shutting down the ignorance when it rears its ugly head in conversations here, just as it does in the USA. This also includes my own head.
-Committing to creating lasting business collaborations with unique voices of color, and putting in the work to override the whitewashed suggestions being presented to me, stemming from a very beige history
*Sidenote: Please, dear God, don’t think that this is me looking for praise. It’s actually quite embarrassing that these are the only steps I’ve taken thus far. But I hope that by sharing my normal, everyday effort, it will make a starting point seem more attainable. There’s a much bigger fight out there, and there’s a lot more change that I need to be a driving force behind. But how can we change the world and go out to expand minds, if we come back everyday to an unconsciously unchanged home? Change starts now. And it starts here. And on this small piece of the internet, I’d like to publicly apologize to the countless classmates whose experience I pushed to the side, in order to make way for my own privilege.
I accept that I don’t yet have the answers to all of the questions coming from folks who haven’t yet woken up. Questions like, “well why are so many criminals black?” and statements like “I don’t see color.” But you bet your bottom dollar I’m doing my research, because those are a replica of the warning signs I ignored at Pace, and look what happened there. And if my situation sounds similar to yours, here’s a drop in the bucket to get started:
Watch 13th on Netflix.
I don’t pretend to know what it’s like to grow up black in America. But I can listen to those who are ready to share something that they shouldn’t have to, and I mean REALLY listen, like put the phone down, concentrate, be a sponge, and let the uncomfyness marinate in my little brain, until the gears of change start to spring to life.
And I certainly can’t go back in time and change the college experience of my peers at Pace. But I can learn from voices like the angelic Geri Brown, a Pace alum, who penned this incredible letter to white women that speaks volumes.
I’ll be honest, this post won’t seem like enough to many, because it’s not. Nothing has changed in regards to the fact that I’m still not an expert. And scrolling through my social media, I’m so inspired by the people who always seem to have the facts handy, the talking points perfectly outlined, and the progressive retorts ready to go. They “got it” way before I did. So here I am, the non-expert, positive white girl finally waking up to the world around her and saying I may not have the answers, but I will find them. And better yet, I’m here. And I will fight for you. Give me your burden, because you’ve been carrying it for entirely too long.
And because I can’t end this alone, I’d like to step aside and let Geri send you on your way:
“Now it’s up to you. Take the first step. You can bleeping do this. Make a plan and become the ally you must be.
I’m rooting for you, all black people are. For our lives depend on it.”
-G. Brown, Storyteller/CEO @dwntowngbrown
