My racial autobiography, 2008-2009:
In the fall of 2008, I moved from Salem, Oregon to Chicago, Illinois. There, I started work in the all-black setting of North Lawndale College Prep High School. The first black person I started to see daily was Joe Berry, who was the tech coordinator at Free Spirit Media. He graduated high school some 6 years back at NLCP, and was deeply connected with the community in North Lawndale. I remember feelings of wanting to talk to him more about race relations (having studied it so much in college) but I felt like such an infant all over again. After all, I was recognizing that here I was making mental note of the 'fact' that I was building a relationship with someone who was culturally black. So, time went on and I made a few good moments of connection over chicken that he would bring in now and then. Though, I remember being jealous that last years volunteer, Jesse, had such a good relationship with him and that the two of them could talk openly about race. This was perhaps what I aspired to have the comfort and competence to do.
Before long, the first trimester was over, and Elizabeth, Jesse and I said goodbye to Joe and moved our location to the other campus of the same high school. Over there, we were right across the hall from Johnita and Shaun, both black, and I had high hoped of reaching across the cultural divide over there. Not so much though, at least not in the first 10 weeks, where my daily interactions included the awkward repetitive phrases of "Hi Shaun, hi Johnita, how are you?" Each next day that I said the same thing, I felt a little bit funnier that I had no more to really be social about. Then, one day Johnita and I went on some errands together, bonded over our common struggles and some good music, not to mention our shared happiness talking about family and small children. From that point on, we suddenly started to recognize that we enjoyed seeing each other. Simultaneously I realized that I could say whats up to Shawn with a little more confidence and welcome.
All the while, I look around at other white people and conclude that I am the only one who goes through these thoughts, and awkward distances with my peers of another color and neighborhood and cultural background. I see myself as the only one feeling like there are barriers, and it was (is) an isolating place indeed. Every day, now that I am at 8 months, is less isolating than the last. I just want to keep going, too, and keep coming out of my shells to the point where I feel the equality of my relationships with people of color.
With the students I started with the most rockiness. I had to ask them to repeat things, and again had so many of the same conversations over and over. I was in a routine, not genuinely friendly. Now I give an entirely new something, as it is the kids for which I show up each day to connect with. It is because of how wonderful the kids are that I never want to go anywhere else, or relate to young people who I don't have the added reward of sharing love despite crossing racial and cultural barriers. And it's only getting better; I'm getting more relaxed and comfortable in each day I spend at the school.
With a love crossing from a place of disconnection to a place of genuine connection comes also the possibility of much deeper hurt. It is at times such as learning that K got held up by a 12 year old, and that C lost her older brother to gun violence, and M was there when the three young men drowned, P is having her child in a matter of months, and W might be hanging to his high school education by a thread. It is a full load to bear, and I hardly have the life experiences that give me a clear relation to many of the things that these teenagers face in their ordinary growing-up. Sometimes, I just need to sit ad I guess write about it, because the racial barriers are real in consequence here. My color and class and culture grew me up so far away from any of these kinds of stories. Still, now I find myself connected. And I wonder if I'll never see life in its full human completion if I ever snap back to just relating to white sheltered privileged life again. I feel that my own humanity is opened by being connected to life experiences that don't share the shelter. I want to relate to it, not to be a voyeur, but because each day I am there is a day's progress to be able to be there enough to care genuinely for more than just my own race.
Maybe this is how my anti-racism has reared its head. Maybe it is through knowing that I can be white and yearn for connection outside of my limiting and self-glorifying culture. I think that I still give my white issues far to little attention, but already my racial autobiography has widely grown to a form of inter-cultural relationships. For these I am so thankful. Its going to be hard to leave especially the all-black community at school, but I'll still keep faith that there is more in store for me in Seattle. Perhaps not getting the job at University of Puget Sound was God saying, "hey Brandon, don't settle in with the white crowd quite yet, you still have a lot to learn if you want to understand what it is to be an anti-racist."
In the fall of 2008, I moved from Salem, Oregon to Chicago, Illinois. There, I started work in the all-black setting of North Lawndale College Prep High School. The first black person I started to see daily was Joe Berry, who was the tech coordinator at Free Spirit Media. He graduated high school some 6 years back at NLCP, and was deeply connected with the community in North Lawndale. I remember feelings of wanting to talk to him more about race relations (having studied it so much in college) but I felt like such an infant all over again. After all, I was recognizing that here I was making mental note of the 'fact' that I was building a relationship with someone who was culturally black. So, time went on and I made a few good moments of connection over chicken that he would bring in now and then. Though, I remember being jealous that last years volunteer, Jesse, had such a good relationship with him and that the two of them could talk openly about race. This was perhaps what I aspired to have the comfort and competence to do.
Before long, the first trimester was over, and Elizabeth, Jesse and I said goodbye to Joe and moved our location to the other campus of the same high school. Over there, we were right across the hall from Johnita and Shaun, both black, and I had high hoped of reaching across the cultural divide over there. Not so much though, at least not in the first 10 weeks, where my daily interactions included the awkward repetitive phrases of "Hi Shaun, hi Johnita, how are you?" Each next day that I said the same thing, I felt a little bit funnier that I had no more to really be social about. Then, one day Johnita and I went on some errands together, bonded over our common struggles and some good music, not to mention our shared happiness talking about family and small children. From that point on, we suddenly started to recognize that we enjoyed seeing each other. Simultaneously I realized that I could say whats up to Shawn with a little more confidence and welcome.
All the while, I look around at other white people and conclude that I am the only one who goes through these thoughts, and awkward distances with my peers of another color and neighborhood and cultural background. I see myself as the only one feeling like there are barriers, and it was (is) an isolating place indeed. Every day, now that I am at 8 months, is less isolating than the last. I just want to keep going, too, and keep coming out of my shells to the point where I feel the equality of my relationships with people of color.
With the students I started with the most rockiness. I had to ask them to repeat things, and again had so many of the same conversations over and over. I was in a routine, not genuinely friendly. Now I give an entirely new something, as it is the kids for which I show up each day to connect with. It is because of how wonderful the kids are that I never want to go anywhere else, or relate to young people who I don't have the added reward of sharing love despite crossing racial and cultural barriers. And it's only getting better; I'm getting more relaxed and comfortable in each day I spend at the school.
With a love crossing from a place of disconnection to a place of genuine connection comes also the possibility of much deeper hurt. It is at times such as learning that K got held up by a 12 year old, and that C lost her older brother to gun violence, and M was there when the three young men drowned, P is having her child in a matter of months, and W might be hanging to his high school education by a thread. It is a full load to bear, and I hardly have the life experiences that give me a clear relation to many of the things that these teenagers face in their ordinary growing-up. Sometimes, I just need to sit ad I guess write about it, because the racial barriers are real in consequence here. My color and class and culture grew me up so far away from any of these kinds of stories. Still, now I find myself connected. And I wonder if I'll never see life in its full human completion if I ever snap back to just relating to white sheltered privileged life again. I feel that my own humanity is opened by being connected to life experiences that don't share the shelter. I want to relate to it, not to be a voyeur, but because each day I am there is a day's progress to be able to be there enough to care genuinely for more than just my own race.
Maybe this is how my anti-racism has reared its head. Maybe it is through knowing that I can be white and yearn for connection outside of my limiting and self-glorifying culture. I think that I still give my white issues far to little attention, but already my racial autobiography has widely grown to a form of inter-cultural relationships. For these I am so thankful. Its going to be hard to leave especially the all-black community at school, but I'll still keep faith that there is more in store for me in Seattle. Perhaps not getting the job at University of Puget Sound was God saying, "hey Brandon, don't settle in with the white crowd quite yet, you still have a lot to learn if you want to understand what it is to be an anti-racist."
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