Antiracism
Celebrating Black History Month and my path to antiracism.
Hello friends, and welcome to the second edition.
I want to thank you for receiving the first edition so openly. Your feedback was supportive and helpful. I want this to be equal parts newsletter and community, and your replies and comments showed me that the community part has real potential.
Since the first edition, our community has expanded from 61 to 81 members — a 33% increase! I warmly welcome the newcomers and appreciate everyone for being here.
Our February edition celebrates Black History Month. I intend to center Black voices and share some personal experiences and perspectives. Admittedly, writing publicly on this topic is intimidating. However, I’m doing it because I believe dialogue and action are necessary for progress, and I hope to spark both. I may make mistakes or say something "wrong," and I humbly accept my imperfections and welcome feedback.
Race in 2020
The social uprising across the planet last summer (and since) felt like a fresh wave of social transformation. Like many of us, I confronted the realities of race, racism, and White supremacy in ways I hadn't before. For example, I finally looked closely at the many forms of privilege (e.g., my Whiteness) that allowed me to mostly avoid race-related realities to date.
I decided to explore and acknowledge my role in the problem and try new ways of contributing to solutions.
I started listening more intently to Black voices, like Ibraham X. Kendi's narration of his book, How to Be An Antiracist. Before this, I didn't know antiracist was a thing.
As I listen, learn, and honestly assess myself, I better understand my role in our White supremacist system/society. By keeping this in my conscious awareness, I'm better at catching and discarding my own racist thoughts and actions. With this practice, I aim to be a net contributor to a (future) antiracist society.
Toward antiracism
A personal story exploring my path to now and illustrating why I feel antiracism is so important.
*I share this hesitantly because I don’t want to center myself in this discussion, and I understand there’s a risk of unintentionally offending someone. That said, here we go…
As I’ve examined my relationship with race, I recognized that my path to antiracism began when I was a child. It was in my upbringing. I didn't know the word for it then, but it's apparent now: my parents and grandparents practiced antiracism.
I was born and raised in rural southwest Indiana. Our house was a dot in the middle of hundreds of acres of agriculture and wooded land, gridded by gravel roads that took us home and to school.
The small town (pop. ~1,500) where I spent most of my time was a "German-American community,” according to the sign that welcomed its visitors and evidenced by its annual bierstube.
It was (and still is) very White. It was (and still is) also very racist. Racist ideas, attitudes, actions, and symbols of White supremacy were commonplace and expressed by people of all generations: my peers, their parents and grandparents, and even my teachers and coaches.
My parents and grandparents taught me differently. They stressed that humans are equal while pointing out that they’re often not treated that way. They made sure I knew everyone deserves to be loved and respected and that racism or discrimination of any kind is not acceptable.
My parents didn't shield us from racism or pretend it wasn’t there. They told us when they encountered racist acts in the community and how they confronted it, unwilling to "let it go." My paternal grandparents were the only White people in their neighborhood. When Black families started moving in, and White flight ensued, they stayed. Their neighbors were wonderful people and dear friends.
Young me gravitated toward Black culture, especially through music and sports. I listened to gangsta rap, wore baggy jeans, slick sneakers, and sports jerseys, and borrowed little bits of lingo. My heroes were Black men: Ozzie Smith, Michael Jordan, and Tupac Shakur. Their trading cards filled my shoe boxes, their posters covered my bedroom walls, and MJ's VHS tapes and 2Pac CDs played on repeat.
When I reconnect with that young version of me, I think this gravitation was born from a feeling of not belonging within the racist, White supremacist culture that surrounded me…and a sense of solidarity I felt when I immersed myself (as much as a poor White kid from the country could) in the culture of people I appreciated and admired. I recognized (some of) the struggles the Black community faced due to systemic racism, and I wanted to be part of the fight against their oppression. In that child’s mind, there were two sides — I chose the side that loved its people and deserved justice instead of the side that attacked people who didn’t look like them.
A lot of people in our community did not like that I embraced Black culture.
Teachers and school administrators harassed me, saying my oversized clothing didn't comply with the dress code. They sent me to the school nurse to have my jeans safety-pinned tighter and higher. The principal lifted up my shirt to see if my underwear was visible.
And, in a particularly ridiculous display of racism, a group of peers called me, my brother, and our like-minded friends "wiggers."
Isn't that wild?! ... Juveniles with racist beliefs directed their racism toward other White people who dressed in baggy clothes and listened to rap music. In a few instances, this advanced to physical threats and abuse.
Maybe it was good there weren’t more Black people around to be the targets of this racism. Ultimately, it was good for me because it offered a first-hand, personal experience that I could use to feel empathy for people who regularly face racist acts.
When I graduated high school, I was ready to get the f*ck out of there.
I left my hometown knowing I would never live there again because it was uncomfortably racist — even for a White guy. I’m now aware of and grateful for the privileges that made my mobility possible — privileges not everyone enjoys.
To be clear, this is not a story of my victimhood.
This is an example of how living in a White supremacist culture hurts everyone: Black, White, and every color of the rainbow. The damage goes in all directions, causing trauma to both senders and receivers of White supremacy.
As Kendi puts it,
"White supremacist is code for anti-human, a nuclear ideology that poses an existential threat to human existence."
In a tiny, mostly-White town, racism is as toxic as anywhere else. The toxins seep into neighboring towns, eventually reaching far-off communities and people.
That's one reason I think building an antiracist society is important, and some context about how I arrived here. Thank you for joining me on this reflective journey.
[Note: I did some research on the use of capital letters in "Black" and "White." This article informed my writing.]
Related info and inspo
🌍 Climate justice
Actions and resources for good Earth stewardship.
Below are some resources I've found helpful for learning about the intersection of race and climate change:
What the Believers are Denying, an article in The Atlantic by Ibram X. Kendi
"…to reinforce the scientific certainty that human action and inaction are disastrously warming the globe and racist action and inaction are disastrously causing racial inequities, environmentalists and anti-racists must separate belief from science."
Color of Climate, a collection of articles on Medium by Drew Costley
"Black people living in American cities already have fewer green and natural spaces in their communities. Even when they can access the outdoors, doing so can feel dangerous."
Climate Change and Environmental Racism, a podcast by a group of high school students in Brooklyn, New York.
@IntersectionalEnvironmentalism, an account on Instagram. Give them a follow!
🤝 Allyship
Efforts to be a good ally to BIPOC folks.
Black History Month Commitment Curve, a month-long challenge from Kai Cash.
Kai, a fellow Climate Changemaker, posted this challenge on LinkedIn. My progress is minimal, but here's my working space, which I’ll update as I continue.
Spiritual Activism for Fighting and Healing from White Supremacy, with Rachel Ricketts and A-Ian Holt.
This interview and discussion illuminated uncomfortable truths about myself, like the fact that I am racist (at times) — like all humans in a society of institutionalized racism. (See ⏯️ Now Playing 'bit below for info about Rachel's book, Do Better.)
Journey inward: Inner Field Trip, with Leesa Renee Hall.
Leesa guides a 10-day reflective writing quest to help people explore their unconscious biases and "become a better ancestor." Join me and other patrons of Leesa, "explore your interior" and "dismantle your submission to the dominant culture."
If you decide to join any of these efforts, I'd love to hear from you, learn about your experience(s), and offer support (this stuff's not easy).
▶️ Now Playing
Books, music, film, pods, etc.
📕 Do Better: Spiritual Activism for Fighting and Healing from White Supremacy, a book by Rachel Ricketts.
After listening to Rachel's message in her interview with A-Ian (see 🤝 Aspiring to allyship 'bit above), I had to hear more from her. I purchased a copy of her book from Marcus Books (Oakland, CA) — the oldest independent Black bookstore in the country!
Can't afford a copy? I'd be happy send my copy to someone via post after I've read it.
Can afford a copy? Support Black-owned book stores with your purchase.
📓 7 Guitarists That Prove Black Women Were Pioneers In Music History, an article by Fabi Reyna of She Shreds Media.
As a novice student of the guitar, Fabi's article broadened and deepened my knowledge of artists who invented the techniques that my teacher is teaching me. I'd learned about many of the Black men who pioneered the blues; now I see and appreciate a bigger portion of the picture.
🎥 Goin’ back to T-Town, a PBS documentary that tells the story of Greenwood - "…an extraordinary Black community in Tulsa, OK, that prospered during the 1920s and 30s despite rampant and hostile segregation."
I didn't know much about the Tulsa race massacre until 2020. This documentary allows for greater empathy with the Black community, especially through current-day accounts from people who experienced this history first-hand.
🎧 Dreams of a New Day: Songs by Black Composers, an album by Will Liverman.
This interview with Will gave me a new perspective and respect for opera — a genre of music I'm minimally acquainted with, but hold immense respect for. It's a beautiful listen!
🎙️ Who's 'Black Enough' For Reparations?, an episode of the Code Switch podcast.
In the context of antiracism, the discussion of reparations has layers, as the hosts of Code Switch explore and illustrate in this episode. To make reparations a reality, we need to understand the challenges.
📸 GLORY: Magical Visions of Black Beauty, a photography collection by CreativeSoul Photography "that shatters the conventional standards of beauty for Black children."
I haven't seen these photos in all their printed glory, but the digital glimpses of it are gorgeous.
💬 Discuss
Hit reply or comment to reflect on your experiences, share your perspective, ask a question, provide feedback, etc.
Thanks for reading. See y'all in March!
✌️
~ Tim Falls
This feels like a huge step forward from last month. The breadth and depth of material is inspiring. And the accountability through transparency makes it feel weighty. I've joined the efforts at my department of state to do a better job of looking at our employee base and recruting efforts through the lenses of equity, diversity and inclusion. And at times I feel overwhelmed by the amount of material there is to read and learn from on these issues. As I read through your writing this month, I'm struck by the 'I' statements. Here is where I have jumped in, and what I think of what I'm looking at. There's power to that. It's encouraging.
On your sharing of your experiences as an adolescent, my brain starts thinking of how to unpack the dynamics there for those of us who found themselves in similar, but more subtle, racist environments. And how many people I grew up around who would spend their money to see a Bulls game and idolize MJ and buy his product, but would wantonly throw the N word around like so much seasoning on a steak. The idol dynamic injected with race is something I'd like to hear more about. ~ Cheers, TF