Confessions & Making Amends

I've been tired.

Covid 19, virtual teaching, and time isolated from family and friends were exhausting to me, and, honestly, I was spending quite a bit of time dedicated to feeling sorry for myself and my poor, pitiful life and the unfairness of it all.

Then, I woke to video feed showing the police officer's knee on George Floyd's neck and I realized that even my reasons for tiredness were rooted in white privilege.

 I had worried about viruses and missing birthdays and missed educational opportunities. I didn't worry about a police officer killing one of my own sons and if you're truthful with yourself, you know why I didn't need to.

My sons are tall. One can be quick to anger and intimidating; they can be mouthy and disrespectful, but the police call them sir whenever they get pulled over. I worry about their finances and their relationships, but I never worry about their safety, them being unfairly judged or followed by security guards in department stores. My sons are white.

I can't understand the tiredness that comes with these worries.

The tiredness that has been part of the very DNA of black mothers for four hundred years.

And, then, when a visceral response comes to this murder from the black community, the good white folks add superficial and unimportant counters to their anger to increase their weariness.

The tiredness that comes from white people defending the confederate flag more than their black sons and daughters.

The tiredness that comes from white people wanting to preserve history through statues instead of telling the history that resides outside of the white man's experience.

The tiredness that comes from white people countering "Black Lives Matter" with "All Lives Matter," which is another way of saying "Let's not talk about your condition."

 The tiredness that comes from white people saying "I'm not a racist because I never use the N word, and I have a black friend," which is the start of nearly every defensive answer.

So, I decided to give up my tiredness and try do something to help carry the worry loads of black mothers, but even as a well-educated, progressive, fairly intelligent middle-aged woman, I had no idea where to begin.

As with most unknowns, I started with books, and then added recommended podcasts to the mix.

As I have read and listened, I have felt a significant amount of shame and regret and defensiveness in the very pit of my stomach, which usually lets me know that I've done something wrong and that a confession was necessary.

 I decided to start with the "How to Apologize" poster that has hung in my classroom for years.


These are the sentence starters along with the rules.

1. I am sorry because ____________.
     If words such as but or if come into play, the apologizer must begin again.
     
2. It was wrong because _______. 
 This must come as a statement of specific facts. "It wasn't nice" doesn't cut it. It must not implicate others as well. 

3. How can I begin to make amends to you so that we can continue our work together? 
This is the hard part because the person who started the conflict must listen without speaking until the aggrieved is finished talking.

So I decided to give it a try.

I am sorry because I have benefited from white privilege and supremacy throughout my life in every single way.
It was wrong because my benefits of privilege came at the sacrifice of hundreds of years of slavery followed by nearly 200 years of continued bigotry and racism designed to keep black people from succeeding.
How can I begin to make amends?

I am sorry that I have supported and voted for candidates that did not have the ending of systemic racism in the forefront of their campaigns.
It was wrong because while it hasn't hindered my white life it has continued to keep and treat black Americans as less than. In fact, I played a part in the knee on George Floyd's neck.
How can I begin to make amends?

I am sorry that I have been silent when black people were criticized for "taking a knee," for not responding to Confederate flags and statues in a way I should have, for remaining in rooms and conversations where there were subtle jokes and stereotypes shared.

It was wrong because my silence allows discrimination and racism to continue. My white privilege gives me a voice and platform and I've failed to use it for my black brothers and sisters.

How can I begin to make amends?

Each day as I continue this journey of confession I discover another bit of me that needs to apologize to African Americans.

I'm pledging to myself to continue to listen and read for what my black siblings need/require from me in order to begin the process of making amends, but here is where I'm starting.

1. I will not remain silent anymore.
2. I'm going to keep my white friends in check, and ask them to do the same for me.
3. I'm going to "take a knee" during the Star Spangled Banner, and the Pledge of Allegiance until there is equality for all of us.
4. I'm going to vote for people who are actively interested in ending systemic racism as well as putting reparations on their platform.
5. I'm not going to try to come up with answers to black problems, but I will listen and support the answers of black community members.

As my confessions continue, so will my ways of making amends. I've learned with my students that righting a wrong can take a very long time.

This American wrong has existed since the 1600's so I'm not naive enough to think that we can ever give back what we have taken, but black folks have been tired for hundreds of years. The very least we can do is put away our defensiveness, shut our mouths, and listen.