This is part 1 of a 2 article set introducing BRIDGE’s “New Pathways” video conversation series. Read part 2, “Creating New Equitable Pathways Toward the Future.”
Image by Matt LaVasseur
I write to you now during a pandemic that will be remembered in history. And as I do, I can only write from my view as a Black Feminist thinker and activist. (Consider this my cultural humility “check in”). Many of you have been “practicing” equity work alongside me. You’ve made equity work an intentional, embodied practice for some time, which is excellent. But practice time is up! Game on. We must create the new order we have aspired to, dreamed about, and envisioned for so long.
First, I must admit that I believe Americans (and perhaps the world) have been in a pandemic since 2016. Some of us have been living the pandemic life to varying degrees of toxicity for the majority of our existence. The second thing that feels important to share is that the recurring thing I’ve heard recently has been, “We will get back to the inclusion and equity work later.” Just the privilege in this statement is soul-screeching... Logically and viscerally, I understand the demands of “crisis mode” when resources start to drain away, AND it is true that the most marginalized of us will be the first to be impacted by this public health crisis.
The most marginalized among us are the people who will be the first to be laid off, the first of our community members who will go without what they need for their families to survive. Many of these folks we don’t see or know, but many of these folks we do already know. We know how vulnerable care workers and nurses are right now. We know how vulnerable people are who live paycheck to paycheck in unsalaried jobs for non-essential services.
Unfortunately, I’m not surprised that some organizations want to put off equity and inclusion work until later. In times of stress and trauma, brain science has taught us that it is only natural to go back to what we know: habits, norms, etc. But this is a problem since most often what we know is derived from white supremacy and heteropatriarchy, (i.e. where White culture, leadership, and middle class norms are dominant; where heterosexual leaders are most vocal and visible; and where most leaders in positions of influence remain male). The wise response to the stress and trauma that we are collectively experiencing right now (with some people being more impacted than others) is not “we will get back to this very important work later” but to ask:
“Acting upon the lessons we’ve learned through coaching or organizing or both (that I have been “practicing” alongside you), how do we move into the ‘urgency of now’ while taking care (as in, caring for and listening deeply to) those who are most severely impacted by COVID-19 already or in the near future?”
“How do we also take good care of ourselves, our families, our communities and our organizations?
“How do we live our values?”
“Game time” is not later, but now. There is simply no time for heteropatriarchal, White supremacist structures that limit our view and paralyze us, forcing some of us to exit stage left or worst, disregarding or even going so far to demonize new, hugely important and potentially hugely impactful work. Now is not the time to mute certain voices simply because they are different from your own.
In Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor’s How We Get Free: Black Feminism and the Combahee River Collective, Taylor writes about the multi-layered, systemic challenges of Black Feminism this way:
“The major source of difficulty in our political work is that we are not just trying to fight oppression on one front or even two, but instead to address a whole range of oppressions. We (I) do not have racial, sexual, heterosexual, or class privileges to rely upon, nor do we have even the minimal access to resources and power that groups who have any one of these types of privilege have.”
Indeed, we have bankrupt systems of government, health, and social services; these systems need to be transformed so that they work for all of us. And now we must find a way to respond to what COVID-19, the Earth, and the opiate epidemic have been trying to tell us: no one is “safe” and “protected” if we all aren’t safe and protected.
In a 2018 blog, another changemaker Tuesday Ryan-Hart of The Outside puts it this way:
“Here’s why depth is such a primary actor on the stage of change, whether we’re embracing it or hiding from it: good change requires good vulnerability. If we embrace it, we all step forward. If we hide, our capacity dulls. Depth is the seat of either momentum, or resistance. To really shift power, wealth, and resources for a better community, organization, movement, or world, we cannot simply stay comfortable on the surface. Superficial exploration makes superficial change. Nothing audacious blooms in a place where people are hunkered-down, protecting their turf.”
But as civil rights activist Alicia Garza reminds us in her interview with Taylor in How We Get Free..., the same problematic pattern happens each time progress towards real change is made: the “relief package” we are typically offered threatens structures of total control (with perhaps some benefits to those with the privilege of knowing how to access those benefits). As Garza reminds us, this is an all too familiar hurdle to have to overcome alongside everything else we’ve been fighting for in the last 40 years of the Black Feminist movement. Or, as a panelist said in a recent African American Policy Forum conversation on the theme, Under the Black Light: The Intersectional Failures that COVID-19 Lays Bare, “the American Dream is an individuality project that will kill us collectively.” This is why what we’re talking about now is a matter of collective survival.
In the coming weeks, I ask you to intentionally extend your circles, listen deeply to those who have been living this horror before and after COVID-19, and roll up your sleeves because the call for structural transformation is here. The call to differentiate between harm and threat of harm is imperative. Human beings, our communities, and our shared health (not only wealth!) are taking center stage. The societal transformation we are starting to witness around the globe and engage with at home has already established for us that we have the capacity to change and change radically when we commit to making way for the common good.
The opportunity before us is to learn from the resilience of those who have already experienced the toxic leadership, lack of safety, and a feeling of distrust each time you exit your home and walk out your door that so many people may be dealing with now for the first time. We must learn from voices that were not included in the inception of our now collapsing structures so that we can build a pathway to survival for us all.
© 2020 Gwendolyn VanSant