The other day I was telling my therapist about how soft and heartbroken I’ve been feeling lately about the unfolding genocide in Palestine. Her advice was to stop my doom scrolling and channel my energy into supporting myself and my emotions. As sensitive as her advice was, I just couldn’t look away. It hurts so much that all I can do is read the articles, listen to the podcasts, watch the videos, and on and on. As selfish as it is, I realize that true empathy will not happen until the pain of looking away is greater than the pain of looking at the carnage.
As a white American, I have been so socialized to ignore and protect my own comfort level before I protect others’ humanity. I can’t do this anymore. The low emotional pain threshold that I’ve been indoctrinated with is no longer serving me. I’m not sure it ever did. I’m learning now, in a different way than I did when I was younger. Before it was all fire and smoke and relentless combat of injustice and going and going until you’re burnt out and apathetic. Now, I’m softer and more radical and wiser. I know that two things can be true. I know that the oppressed can oppress. That suffering has no regard for geography or political affiliation. That binaries are non-existent. I am manifesting and scaffolding a sustainable practice of love justice work. I no longer have the energy to be angry and righteous. I only have time and space to stand firm in solidarity and to educate those on their way to it.
I’ve been reading and listening to Black feminists more than usual. Their capacity to hold space for both grief and action makes me feel safe. It always has. Because I know that Black feminism, that womanism, does not see liberation as an abstract theory. That oppression is not a feeling. I am learning decolonization from the experiences of those who have faced oppression in its purest form. Black feminism rejects everything that white supremacy holds dear. Control. Violence. Hatred. And other synonyms for Fear.
“Black women scholars and professionals cannot afford to ignore the straits of our sisters who are acquainted with the immediacy of oppression in a way many of us are not. The process of empowerment cannot be simplistically defined in accordance with our own particular class interests. We must learn to lift as we climb.”
I’ve read these words from Angela Davis and others from hooks and Collins and Lorde and Oluo and brown. They anoint me with hope and compassion and give me strength to engage, to activate, to learn, and to educate. Their abolitionist perspectives tell me we dismantle and defund and deconstruct so that we can build something new. We can imagine our way to liberation, to love, to safety. We can. We can. We can. I refuse to live in black and white. There is too much to learn in the grey of it all. Too much “Yes, and.” I am committed to holding my sister’s hand. I will not be shaken.
In relentless love, hope, and solidarity,
Ren
