We Can't Breathe!

“In a racist society it is not enough to be non-racist, we must be anti-racist.” 

— Angela Y. Davis

“There comes a time when silence is betrayal.” 

— Martin Luther King, Jr.

“I swore never to be silent whenever and wherever human beings endure suffering and humiliation. We must take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.” 

— Elie Wiesel

     On May 25th, 2020, a man named George Floyd was murdered by a white police officer named Derek Chauvin.  Chauvin, with a casual smirk on his face, hands nonchalantly placed in his pockets, knelt on the neck of George Floyd while he was handcuffed and lying face down, already detained. He knelt on his neck for almost eight minutes until he suffocated him, crushing his throat. Floyd pleaded for Chauvin to stop, crying out "I can't breathe!" over and over again until he became silent, his body became still and his pulse arrested. Chauvin knelt on Floyd's neck for a further three minutes beyond his death. Floyd drew his final breath that day and the entire world hasn't been able to catch theirs since.

     In the days that followed, Black Lives Matter protests were organized and daily demonstrations began to occur all over the country and then all over the world.  Protesters are marching against police brutality, the lack of police accountability, and the laws that protect racially charged attacks and harassment by police toward people of color and the racial injustices that are caused by systemic racism.  6 weeks later, protests continue daily.  This country is crying out for justice.  This country is crying out for equality.  This country is calling out for the basic of all human rights, the right to live.  Until these issues are addressed, we as a country, as part of this world, as part of the human race, will not be able to breathe.  Where there is no justice, there is no peace.  The voices are crying out and many of those in power are trying to silence them and literally beat them into submission. It's ironic that the police are responding to these protests of police brutality with the same police brutality and unaccountability that people are protesting against.

     During times like this, we all feel compelled to do something, but oftentimes we may not know what to do. Often times we may feel helpless, horrified even powerless... but we aren't.  We are just uncomfortable. We are just used to not thinking about it or worse, pretending it doesn't exist at all.  As an artist, I feel compelled to address this visually.  As an illustrator, I feel compelled to address this narratively.  As a human, I am compelled to address it period.  By "it" I mean the injustice of systemic racism that is so well indoctrinated and saturated in this country. I will talk about this illustration some, but mostly I want to use this post as an opportunity to give people a jumping point to begin the advocacy and internal work of anti-racism.  In other words, how can we, as white people, use the power of our inherited privilege to help communities of people of color and to help protect those that are most vulnerable to the disparities of systemic racism, oppression, and white supremacy.  My intention is not to place judgment here, but to create a space for those who do feel compelled to help and want to help, but may not exactly know what to do, where to look or how to get started on that journey.

Black Lives Matter Protest. Photo credit unknown.

     First, let me say that I am not, BY ANY MEANS, any sort of expert. I am not here to give you all the answers and to solve all the problems. I don't have all the answers and I certainly can not single-handedly solve the problems that racism has plagued this country with for centuries. This isn't your all-inclusive how to be an anti-racist field guide.  I am doing the work myself, still, as it's life long work.  My goal in this post is to open the discussion and point those of you who have an interest in doing this work but don't know where you can start. I want to give you a bit of a jumping-off point.  Again, I'm not the expert or authority on this subject.  I'm not here to be an authoritative voice.  Mostly what I will be sharing will be the words and voices of activists, academics, and people of color who experience systemic racism in their daily lives.

 “To be white in America is not to have to think about it.”

-Robert Terry

     Of the many privileges that white people in America have over people of color, probably the most pervasive and dangerous one of all is the privilege that white people have to simply "not have to think about it."  White people have the option to think about racism or ignore it completely. People of color do not have that choice.  It is something they must deal with every day.  As much as I desire to help the communities of color and those that are vulnerable to the attacks of patriarchal white supremacy, I can never, myself, fully understand what it is like to be a person of color in this racist country we live in.  Even as we work together to make the country less racist and more equal for everyone in it, I still will never fully understand the experience of people of color.  Even as a gay man, I am still a white man.  I am marginalized in this society for my homosexuality, but I still will never fully understand what it is like to be as marginalized as a person of color.

“The new racism is to deny that racism exists.”

— Unknown

     Let's talk about a few of the hot buttons that have popped up on social media that I want to address before we talk about doing the work of an ally and where you can start to do that work. The two phrases that come up most often in opposition to the Black Lives Matter protests are "All Lives Matter" and "I'm not racist. I'm Colorblind." The people that use these phrases as a rebuttal fall into two different groups of white people.  There are the white people who, in some ways, innocently believe in the seemingly good-natured sentiment of what these phrases appear to say.  These people are oblivious to the malign and manipulative nature of what these phrases actually mean and how calculatedly strategic and nefarious their intended purpose is.  The second group of white people that use these phrases are fully aware of their true meaning and intended purpose.  These phrases are a way that white people can still be racist but sound as if they care about other people when they actually do not care. They are the people who know they are racist but are afraid to admit it to themselves and certainly are afraid of others knowing how racist they truly are. "All Lives Matter" and "Colorblindness" are very telling indicators of racism, whether conscious or unconscious, it is certainly there.  The phrases are being used to oppose the validity of someone else saying that Black Lives Matter, not to help them convey their grievances.

     So why does "All Lives Matter" not actually mean what it says?  Let's take a look at that.
It seemingly has a very noble sentiment on the surface. That every life matters, right?!  However, in the context of using it as a "rebuttal" in opposition and as a "response" to Black Lives Matter, means that its intention is to diminish and undermine the message and purpose of the BLM movement.  It intends to criticize the BLM movement as opposed to the "we are all in this together" sentiment that it appears to represent.  To understand why ALM doesn't quite cut it, we must first understand specifically what the BLM movement is truly about.  So many people think that it means that ONLY the lives of Black People Matter, when the movement's message is, in reality, something quite different.

     Black Lives Matter is an anthem, a slogan, a hashtag, and a straightforward statement of fact.  While it is not a new movement, the message is central to the nationwide protests happening right now.  BLM speaks out against the police brutality and systemic racism that caused the recent deaths of George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery, Tony McDade and Breonna Taylor, as well as the thousands of violent incidents that happen to Black people that aren’t recorded, aren’t reported or aren’t afforded the outrage they deserve. At its most basic level, it calls for a shift in the statistics that Black people are twice as likely to be killed by a police officer while unarmed, compared to a white individual. According to a 2015 study, African Americans died at the hands of police at a rate of 7.2 per million, while whites were killed at a rate of 2.9 per million.  One of the goals of the Black Lives Matter movement is to raise awareness that we, as a nation, need to reconsider our priorities. Right now, there are U.S. institutions and systems that act as if black lives don't matter. For example, according to a report by American Progress, in 2015, each of the 10 states with the highest percentage of Black residents reported state and local policing expenditures of more than $230 per resident per year. That’s at least 328 times more than what each state spends on enforcing anti-discrimination laws.

     The phrase "All Lives Matter" actually takes the focus away from those who need it.  Saying "All Lives Matter" redirects the attention from Black Lives, who are the lives that are currently in peril.  While the intention of the phrase "All Lives Matter" may be to put everyone’s life on equal footing and convey a sense of unity, responding "All Lives Matter" to "Black Lives Matter" is actually more divisive than unifying. That's because it discounts and diminishes the focus on the violence and discrimination Black individuals face every day in this country.

All Lives Matter Guy Cartoon 

by Nathan Place

"I'm not the first one to say this, but for many white folks, 

being labeled racist is among their worst fears, 

and as we're continuing to learn in this country, 

for many people of color, Black folks, in particular, 

their greatest fear is not surviving an interaction with a police officer. 

o we're really talking about very different worlds of experience."

-Meghan Burke (Colorblind Racism)

     Let's move on to the problem of being "Colorblind."  The idea of a color-blind society, while well-intentioned, leaves people without the language to discuss race and examine their own bias.  Color blindness relies on the concept that race-based differences don't matter, and ignores the realities of systemic racism.  You may even know someone that is the first to tell you they don't have a racist bone in their body, and they don't care if you're white, black, purple, or blue, etc.  In fact, they say, they're "color blind"—meaning, they don't even see race.  And that refusal to see it often goes hand-in-hand with an urgent desire to stop discussing racial disparities as soon as possible.  The roots of color-blind racism were largely well-intentioned.  It borrows right from that last third of Martin Luther King Jr.'s speech, where he says that he wants people to see his kids for the content of their character, not the color of their skin. So I think it's easy for a lot of well-meaning white people to hear that and agree with its sentiment.

     It's important to get clarity about what is meant by 'racism,' and some of the unintended harm that a colorblind framework can cause.  To do that first requires a basic understanding of how Americans, and particularly white Americans, think about racism, and the big way sociologists believe that's evolved over the past 150 years.  From the late 1800s to the mid-1960s, the system of racial segregation and oppression known as Jim Crow made it illegal for Black Americans to have the same social and economic rights as white Americans.  After the civil rights movement of the 1960s brought some positive change those who weren’t directly impacted in the years that followed (such as those in suburban white communities) could easily choose to believe that America’s big, ugly racist period was a thing of the past. Racism instead became embedded in what is called "now you see it, now you don’t-type practices" that are harder to call out—which, conveniently, makes it tougher to pin them squarely on discrimination. Saying you don't see color robs groups of their identity, experience, plight, beauty, and strength. Saying you’re color blind means you can't address racism in all its tentacled infrastructure — because you can't address what you aren't willing to see.  It conveniently dismisses the struggles that people of color face every day in exchange for the comfort of white Americans not having to discuss what is a very uncomfortable topic for them.  It's important to see that color, to see the difference, respect it, and not be threatened by it. Being white and speaking of race doesn't mean you're bad. Be willing to sit in the discomfort of us figuring it out — not sweeping it under the rug.

     These were two of the most prevalent things that I had seen pop up in response to the BLM protests recently on social media and I felt like they needed to be addressed before we moved on. Before we talk about doing the work of Allyship, I did want to discuss the illustration specifically. As an artist, I always feel compelled to address what is going on in the world around me. Personally, though, I may usually wait until I feel that I am more informed on the current events to "react" creatively as opposed to a hot-headed immediate creative reaction as soon as those events occur.  For example, I haven't focused many of my art projects on the global pandemic, because we are all still in the thick of that forest and trying to navigate through it.  I feel like any visual or creative point of view on the pandemic is pre-emptive. We don't know the whole story as of yet, so I feel like any creative endeavor at this moment in time would be only part of the story.  It wouldn't have a firm grasp on my view of the entire picture.  I'm not saying that artists that are creating pandemic related content aren't "doing it right" or are "jumping the gun." These are just my personal feelings on the subject. I just feel that sometimes I need to pull back to see a wider perspective on any particular issue before I can truly know how I feel about it and, in turn, express those feeling through my art.

“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”

— Martin Luther King, Jr.

     The idea for We Can't Breathe came to me while I was exercising. I tend to space out and listen to music when I exercise, so it's almost meditative. I empty my mind of all the surrounding noise and just exist. To be honest, a lot of ideas for my work come to me when I am in that state. I'm sure other artists may have similar experiences where they are quasi-meditating, in some way, and their minds are more open to the universe.  Maybe their thoughts become more clearly organized in their own heads.  That is, at least, my own experience of inspiration at times.  I really wanted to create an image that dealt with the BLM protests (that have been going on in my city as well as across the nation), the purpose of those protests, and how I could evoke (and somehow) echo those emotions through a single image. Our current political climate within the past decade has increasingly escalated to what we are seeing now.

     The issues that have fueled the fire, so to speak, have always been underlying and present in this country. They aren't now just all-a-sudden existing out of thin air this year.  Decades of innocent people being murdered, incarcerated and impoverished by a very well oiled and operating machine; a machine that is very good at its job. The machine is systemic racism, racial oppression, and white supremacy. It's a tryptic of evil if there ever was one.  One of the machine's intentions is to indoctrinate white children to disbelieve in its existence.

     As a white child, growing up in the 80s, I was taught that racism no longer existed. I was taught to be "colorblind." I was taught that seeing the color and differences in someone else's skin was, more or less, uncivilized and ignorant.  I was taught that our society had moved past these unpleasant things and that we were all now truly equal. For many years, I believed this.  As I said, the Machine is very good at its job.  It wasn't until I was older that I began to learn that we were all taught a very dangerous lie in this country; the lie that we are all equal.  We aren't all equal, not right now and not then. It was then that I began to unlearn all the propaganda that the Machine had indoctrinated me with. The process of undoing that work takes time and it takes a lot of emotional work to work through the shock, the horror, and the guilt of realizing that you are a cog in a massive system that is meant to harm, hinder and destroy other human beings. (a.k.a. "white guilt") Part of doing the work of anti-racism is for white people to sit with these emotions and work through them to get to a point where they aren't paralyzed by this inherited guilt and grief; where they do not seek forgiveness.  They can begin to understand their privilege in this society and how they can use it to help people of color be heard.  More often than not, in our society, the Machine is working very hard to silence their voices, their experiences, and in many cases, their very lives.

     As white people, we must use the tools that were originally given to us to destroy others.  However, we must now use those same tools to help those that were intended to be harmed.  So how do we do that? Ok, here's an example. I'm an artist. I have a talent. I have my tiny little platform.  Even though I don't necessarily think that what I write is of much importance to the world or that many people care to know what I think or what I do with my talent, it is still important that I give what I have to give in the service of helping others in this cause.  So I felt like I needed to create something with my visual voice in the service of those voices that need to be heard.  At this point, I felt like people of color and their allies were having to basically shout or scream to even be noticed in this current political climate right now. I thought about Munch's Scream and imagined what that painting might have looked like if Munch had been living in the USA today. How different would it have been? How similar? I began to form an idea of how I could visually represent this concept of needing to be heard and feeling frustrated that our leaders aren't listening to any of us. A collective scream is what I wanted to illustrate and I began to collect and look for reference images of people screaming.  I wanted a wide diverse cross-section that I felt would represent the protesters that are out there every day; the ones trying to bend the ear of the power structure of this nation.  They are screaming for change and crying for justice.  I eventually found my group of screaming protesters and began to construct the composition of how I wanted to divide the faces. I needed to figure out which part of the "head" would belong to whom and what seemed to work better and what wasn't working at all, etc.

     The white "bars of negative space in between each screaming protester represents the prison of the well built and functioning Machine that is systemic racism. That prison wants to keep us all divided and hold us in our respective "cages" or "roles" that we were quite literally born into. It's almost like we are a zoo where most of us are imprisoned and only the powers-that-be can freely navigate this zoo with full autonomy. One of the unifying characteristics is the medical mask that cuts across the bars, breaks the division, and connects us all to each other. Since this political upheaval is taking place during a global pandemic, I felt like the mask was a current and relevant symbol of the connection we have to each other. I am wearing my mask to protect you. You are wearing your mask to protect me. Our masks are a symbol of our mutual respect, protection, and love for each other's lives. The mask can kinda also be thought of as armor.  Since the BLM protests are, quite literally, about demanding justice for innocent lives that are being taken by racially-charged violence (fueled by white supremacy), I felt like the pandemic mask could also symbolize our unity to stand together against that very system that seeks to divide us.  The other unifying element that holds the protesters together is the Native American necklace.  I wanted to include the Native Americans in the piece as well because this system goes all the way back to the colonization of this country and the slaughter and relocation of Native American peoples. The struggle ultimately includes all people of color that have been oppressed by the Machine of white supremacy. They are the first real "Americans" of this country which makes them the origin, the foundation, and the neck on which our collective head rests upon.

     Another artist friend of mine and I had a conversation about this illustration. They had asked me if the size of the text at the bottom had been intentional. Did it "represent, visually, the lack of acknowledgment of their voices; Literally making their voices "small?"  In all honesty, though the size of the text was intentional, I really wished that this was my reason behind making it the size that it is. I thought that was a great read to take away from the piece but I can't claim what I didn't intend. I liked that thought though. My intention with the text's size was 100% visual practicality. I didn't like how it looked when it was really large underneath, it looked better placed smaller under the figures. I wasn't really intending this image to be a poster on its own in this form. I could eventually work to transform it into that, but a poster was not my intention. If it was a poster, the large text below would have been preferred, and I might explore that. Create this and print it and post it around the city. That may be the next step in its evolution. But as for now, I wanted the text smaller underneath it.

     My friend also brought up the possibility of the conflict of having the mask pulled down and having "we can't breathe" written below.  He felt it may read as "anti-mask" and that is the main complaint of anti-maskers; the difficulty of breathing. When I began to put this image together, anti-maskers were not really a "thing" yet, at that time. "Anti-Maskers" were news that would come later as I was developing the illustration. Having the mask pulled down was purely out of practicality to be able to see the faces screaming and it was meant as only a symbol to represent human unity in these times of pandemic. It is almost a way to intentionally "date" it.  In retrospect, I think even an "anti-masker" read would also still contribute to the message of the piece. The anti-maskers compare the mask to a muzzle and muzzles are used to silence animals. This illustration is about voices being heard, so it works that the "muzzle" is down. So I think it works both ways, though I didn't have to worry about anti-maskers context when I was in the planning stages. To be honest, I didn't even think about anti-maskers until my friend had brought it up. It's a good point and I'm glad that the image can still work even with that context read into it. A quick shout out to my friend, AC. Thanks again for always being willing to be an extra set of eyes. It is very much appreciated.

     Lastly, We Can't Breathe is a direct reference to what George Floyd had cried out in the final moments of his life. That cry was heard and felt across this entire planet. I, admittedly, did not watch the video because I know I am far too sensitive to unsee and unhear his horrific murder.  I did read a full description of what happened, everything he had said in his final moments as Chauvin took his life. I cried as I read them. The words alone were enough for that event to penetrate through my flesh and bones directly to my core, my soul.  It shook me as I read those words.  This country needs to change. This planet needs to change. George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Amaud Arbery, Riah Milton, Rem'Mie Fells, and so many many many many more people should be alive right now and they are not. They are being murdered and their killers are, more often than not, allowed to walk free. Where is the justice? Where is the humanity? We need change and that change has to start with us.

“Anti-racism is not an identity or a checklist; it’s a practice.”

— Andrea Ranae

     I want to conclude this post with a few tips and a list of some resources that will help you begin to do the work of allyship.  Being an ally isn't a state of being. It isn't a label. It's not a badge you get to wear on your good human scouts uniform. Allyship is a verb. It's action. It's a commitment to help dismantle the Machine of systematic racism, racial injustice, and white supremacy which ( as we have seen under the inflammatory administration of Donald Trump) is very much alive and operating in this country still. Once again, I just want to point out that my intention is not to give you an all-inclusive guide, but just a place to start from.

     Allyship is a process, and everyone has more to learn. Allyship involves a lot of listening. Sometimes, people say “doing ally work” or “acting in solidarity with” to reference the fact that “ally” is not an identity, it is an ongoing and lifelong process that involves a lot of work.

     A white ally acknowledges the limits of her/his/their knowledge about other people’s experiences but doesn’t use that as a reason not to think and/or act. A white ally does not remain silent but confronts racism as it comes up daily, but also seeks to deconstruct it institutionally and live in a way that challenges systemic oppression, at the risk of experiencing some of that oppression. Being a white ally entails building relationships with both people of color, and also with white people in order to challenge them in their thinking about race. White allies don’t have it all figured out but are deeply committed to non-complacency.

“Allyship is language, and being a co-conspirator is about doing the work.  

It’s taking on the issue of racism and oppression as your own issue, 

even though you’ll never truly understand the damage that it does.”

-Ben O’Keefe (Activist & former senior aide to Sen. Elizabeth Warren)

BEING A BETTER ALLY TO PEOPLE OF COLOR:
1.) Do Your Own Homework. 
You can't be an effective ally if you don't know what the issues are. And you can't help deconstruct institutional racism without first understanding how it is built.  Look up information on your own to educate yourself on systematic racism, how white privilege is affecting communities of color, how to be anti-racist. Don't make it the responsibility of your friends of color to educate you on what you should be educating yourself about. They have enough of a burden to carry without having to carry yours as well. Just keep that in mind before you ask people of color questions in regards to racism.

2.) Assume Racism is Everywhere, Every Day. 
Just as economics influences everything we do, just as gender and gender politics influence everything we do, assume that racism is affecting your daily life. We assume this because it’s true and because the privilege of being white is the freedom to not deal with racism all the time. We have to learn to see the effect that racism has.  Notice who speaks, what is said, how things are done, and described. Notice who isn’t present when racist talk occurs.  Notice code words for race, and the implications of the policies, patterns, and comments that are being expressed. You already notice the skin color of everyone you meet—now notice what difference it makes.

3.) Be Willing to Listen and Learn. 
In order to be an effective ally, it's necessary to understand the experiences of those you want to support. The best way to reach that understanding is to be a good listener.  When people of color voice concerns, vent about issues they face, or discuss oppression, you should be taking notes. These concerns and issues are often a result of actions by people who look like you, so it can be easy to get defensive — "not all white people," etc. But the more challenging thing to do is to understand that these concerns are not a personal attack, and trust the experiences of those who are oppressed.  If a person of color trusts you enough to share how racism and prejudice affect them, take it as an opportunity to learn rather than prove your innocence. If you reach out as an ally, you're already moving in the right direction.

4.) Black (And Brown) Lives > White Feelings
We might feel a little uncomfortable with some commentary. They risk death every day of their lives, whether they’re in their home or outside of it. These two things cannot be compared in any way.  Sit with your discomfort. It’s okay to be uncomfortable, and it’s okay to not understand why you can’t talk about those feelings publicly. Remember, this is not about you. So don't bring the focus back onto you, taking the microphone away from the voices that need to be heard.

5.) Notice Who is the Center of Attention and Who is the Center of Power.
Racism works by directing violence and blame toward people of color and consolidating power and privilege for white people.

6.) Notice How Racism is Denied, Minimized, and Justified.

7.) Understand and Learn from the History of Whiteness and Racism.
Notice how racism has changed over time and how it has subverted or resisted challenges.
Study the tactics that have worked effectively against it.

8.) Understand the Connections Between Racism, Economic Issues, Sexism, and Other Forms of Injustice.

9.) We Don’t Get to Determine What’s Racist.
How often do we see something posted about racism, only to then see a bunch of white people jump into the comments to argue about why that thing isn’t actually racist?  If you want to be an ally to people of color, it’s a good idea to not debate or discredit the lived experiences that they are sharing. Believe them as the experts on their own lives.

10.) Help Open Up Spaces Without Taking Them Over.
As an ally to people of color, it's important to use your own privilege to assist in efforts toward equality. It's great for white people to help organize protests and create safe spaces for people of color, but not when white voices are centered and elevated over communities of color.  An ally's role is never to speak for others but to take down the obstacles facing the oppressed to allow them to speak for themselves. One example is to act as a barrier for the more vulnerable people of color at demonstrations and protests, like in the Instagram photo above.  White privilege can be a powerful tool of allyship or oppression — be mindful of how you put your own to use.

11.) Make Privilege Visible.
One meaning of being white is that we are granted unearned privileges and structural power simply by reason of our race, without regard for our personal attitudes, values, and commitments. Privilege is a fugitive subject about which white people were meant to remain oblivious.  Making privilege visible to ourselves and others demands constant vigilance. Without that vigilance, we are indeed dangerous because we behave like dinosaurs that drag a large tail behind us. Unable to see the tail, and convinced of our good intentions, we are oblivious to the havoc we wreak as we move through the world, knocking people over and flattening things in our path.  How do we do this? By presuming we can speak for others, imposing our mission and outreach projects on others, discounting as “ungrounded” the fears and criticisms voiced by people of color, dismissing their pain as overreacting, accusing them of “playing the race card” when they call us on our oppressive behavior and then shifting the focus to our hurt feelings.

12.) Interrupt Racism When You See it Happening in Realtime.
In our spheres of influence, we need to interrupt racism by challenging the practices and policies that protect privilege and keep it in place. We can use privilege to ensure that power is more equitably shared. We can shine a light on every program, ministry, and endeavor we are engaged in, asking: Whose voices are being sought out and heard? Who decides what is right, beautiful, true, and valued? Whose cultural perspectives are overrepresented and whose are underrepresented? Who is seen as important to the mission and who is seen as less important?

13.) Work Through Shame and Guilt.
When denial gives way, and the breadth and depth of racism are acknowledged, a profound sense of shame or guilt can consume white people for a time. While shame and guilt are not the same, both can surface in us as we awaken to the devastating realities of racism. Neither is particularly useful to people of color because both have the effect of turning the spotlight on white people once again. For example, white people may seek forgiveness from people of color to lessen their shame. This request can be toxic for people of color if the focus is on the feelings of white people rather than the continuing inequities of racism.  We can learn to move through those feelings into something deeper and more productive. The critical question is what we do with those feelings and the discoveries that birthed them.

14.) Resist the "White Savior" Complex.
The white savior complex manifests itself in many ways, and allyship tends to be one of them.  As an ally, your role is not to "fix" communities of color. It is not your job to swoop down and take action on their behalf without knowing what the community needs to begin with. It might be easy to succumb to the desire to do things that seem good for others because they make you feel good, but it's important to resist that urge and reexamine how to help.  Telling a person of color how to deal with oppression may seem like a helpful idea, but in reality, it's harmful. Offering advice implies that the onus is on them, and assumes they have not already made efforts to overcome racial injustice.  It's better, for example, to ask, "Is there anything I can do to make you feel safer?"

15.) Take a Stand Against Injustice.
Take risks. It is scary, difficult, and may bring up feelings of inadequacy, lack of self-confidence, indecision, or fear of making mistakes, but ultimately it is the only healthy and moral human thing to do.  Intervene in situations where racism is being passed on. This is similar to interrupting racism. (#12)

16.) Be Strategic.
Decide what is important to challenge and what’s not.
Think about strategy in particular situations.
Attack the source of power.

17.) Start in Your Own Circle.
White allies, I hope you enter white spaces to spread awareness and accountability as often as (or more than) you enter black spaces.  White allies usually have the advantage of being able to communicate with more white people within their own circles. You have the chance to help people of color by promoting equality and racial justice in your own community.  Call out friends and family on their racism and microaggressions, even when it's uncomfortable or there are no people of color around to be offended. They'll likely be more open to listening to you, and it will give you the opportunity to effect real change.

18.) Remember, It’s a Privilege to be Able to Disengage from Conversations or Thoughts About Racism.
As white people, we have the privilege of deciding that we don’t want to think about this difficult, uncomfortable topic if we don’t want to.  But for people of color, who live in a racist world every day and bear the brunt of that racism, they don’t have that option.  The fact that we have the ability to stop thinking about racism is exactly why we shouldn’t. Challenge yourself to not look away.

19.) Do the Work From a Place of Self-love.
Those of us who are white will not be able to keep showing up, resist checking out, or stay in difficult yet essential conversations across racial difference if we cannot come from a place of self-love.  We need to love ourselves and others enough to forge new ways of being white in this world by nurturing an anti-racist identity. We need to recover the stories of white ancestors who resisted racism and worked with people of color to keep hope alive by creating change. Their witness and resolve can strengthen our own.  We need to feel, claim, and give voice to our grief, distress, and rage at racism. The hunger and thirst for racial justice must be our own. Otherwise, we will be driven by the desperate need to seek approval and love from people of color.

20.) Stay On the Journey.
I believe it is possible to become trustworthy white allies if we are willing to move out of our comfort zones, risk having our assumptions challenged, our lives disrupted, and our way of viewing the world transformed. Most important is the commitment to stay on the journey. Unlearning and interrupting the habits, practices, and policies that keep racism and white privilege intact is life-long, life-giving work, never done once and for all. We are human, after all, and we will make mistakes, but learn from them and keep showing up and doing the work.

A Great List for Suggestive Reading (via DismantleCollective.org):
-Courageous Conversations About Race: A Field Guide for Achieving Equity in Schools, 2nd Edition (2015) Glenn Singleton

-Race Amity: A Primer on America’s Other Tradition, Natl Center for Race Amity

-White Privilege: Essential Readings on the Other Side of Racism, Paula Rothenberg

-Woke Church: An Urgent Call for Christians in America to Confront Racism and Injustice, Eric Mason

-White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism, Robin DiAngelo

-Privilege: Power and Difference, Allan Johnson

-Privilege: A Reader, Michael Kimmel & Abby Ferber

-Raising Race Questions, Ali Michael

-The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness, Michelle Alexander

-Just Mercy, Bryan Stevenson

-America’s Original Sin: America’s Original Sin: Racism, White Privilege, and the Bridge to a New America, Jim Wallis

-Slavery By Another Name, Douglas Blackmon

-When Affirmative Action Was White, Ira Katznelson

-So You Want to Talk About Race, Ijeoma Oluo

-The Color of Law: The Forgotten Story of How Government Segregated America, Richard Rothstein

-Stamped from the Beginning: The Definitive History of Racist Ideas in America, Ibram X. Kendi

-How to be an Antiracist, Ibram X. Kendi

-White Awake: An Honest Look at What it Means to be White, Daniel Hill

-Empire of Cotton: A Global History, Sven Beckert

-Slavery’s Capitalism: A New History of American Economic Development, Sven Beckert and Seth Rockman

-The Business of Slavery and the Rise of American Capitalism, Calvin Schermerhorn

-The History of White People, Nell Irvin Painter


A Great List for Suggestive Viewing (via DismantleCollective.org):
-13th, Ava DuVernay

-When They See Us, Ava DuVernay

-The Color of Fear, Lee Mun Wah

-I’m Not Racist Am I? Andre Lee

-BOSS: The Black Experience in Business, PBS documentary

-Slavery By Another Name: The Re-Enslavement of Black Americans From the Civil War to World War II, PBS based on the book by Douglas Blackmon

-Reconstruction, PBS based on the book by Eric Foner

-White Lies We Tell Our Children, Colin Stokes

-The Enduring Myth of Black Criminality, Ta-Nehisi Coates via The Atlantic

-How to Have a Voice and Lean Into Conversations on Race, Amanda Kemp

-The Future of Race in America (on The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness, Michelle Alexander

-A Conversation with Black Women on Race, New York Times Op-Docs Series

-A Conversation with White People about Race, New York Times Op-Docs Series

-How Race Settled the Suburbs, Upworthy (Adam Ruins Everything)

-Equity vs Equality, Carneades

“No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.” 

— Nelson Mandela

    Friends, thanks for hanging in there and holding space to be open to having these difficult and yet extremely important conversations. I think I will leave it here for the time being. I hope you have found this a helpful place to begin the work of allyship or have found new information and direction for your already continued work. A real quick shout out to my friend, CI, for being my extra set of eyes on this post as a whole. Thank you big time. So, in conclusion, be kind to yourself. This is life long work. Be kind to others. We all live in this very imperfect world and are working toward making it better and equal for everyone. I send you all my love. Thank you for listening and being open to what I had to share.

Until next time, friends,

Keep dreaming, keep sketching, keep thinking, keep laughing, and most important of all,  keep making art.

Cheers,

LEWIS

Much of what I have shared today is taken directly from the following sources:

-What Black Lives Matter Means (and Why It's Problematic to Say "All Lives Matter")  by Lizz Schumer

-Being "Color Blind" Doesn't Make You Not Racist—In Fact, It Can Mean the Opposite  by Samantha Vincenty/Eduardo Bonilla-Silva/Meghan Burke

-The Problem with Colorblindness by Autumn McDonald

-How To Be a Good White Ally, According to Activists by Emily Stewart

-Becoming Trustworthy White Allies by Melanie S. Morrison

-Ways You Can Be a Better Ally to People of Color by Savonne Anderson

-Dismantle Collective.org Web Resources

-How to Be a Better Ally to People of Color from YES! Magazine

-Guidelines for Being Strong White Allies by Paul Kivel