When I initially saw your headline, my first thought was “why should you?” I think that especially after reading so many of your essays, and the fact that the more I read, the less I think about your “blackness” or my “whiteness.” Does it really matter if it doesn’t matter to us?
For whatever reason, we don’t talk much about the different classes of white people. I can’t remember the last time I read or heard anyone talk about some of the white people who still live in relative isolation and poverty in Appalachia. A friend recently told me the story of her youth, and how she ended up there as a young, married woman. I can’t even imagine, but I’m grateful that it wasn’t my life. However, I also don’t relate to a lot of white people. I grew up in a middle class family, and so did most of my friends. I’ve been around people who have money, come from “old” families, etc. Their lives are different from mine, so I’m not sure how I’m supposed to “fully appreciate” either situation.
If I’m misunderstanding your point, I apologize. I’m sure the pressure for you is much higher because this seems to be a topic that is consuming us lately. So, I don’t have that. But, the thing is, I think you are unique in that you are you. Your experiences are different than mine, and yet we have found common ground because of our interests in people as a whole. Finding the things that make us relatable to one another is so much better than trying to figure out who screwed who.
That there is a single "black experience" is just as silly and simplistic as the idea of "white privilege." This could easily be "The (white) voices of Brooklyn are amplified at the expense of suburban and small-town voices."
Not much to add to your great comment. Labels will always fail us. We humans are organic and passionate and sensitive and scarred and quirky and all the rest. Know the individual person before you. That person has a memory of profound joy, dark despair, unique fear, cosmic wonder and creative expression. I know someone I like. I hope she stays around/fingers crossed. And yet this happy, well-adjusted, and creative person has a software flaw. She falls apart upon the sight of a bird. Yes, birds are her terror. One has to accept her fear of birds as part of her existence. I am not that way but I understand haunting fears.
When we first met for lunch, a dead bird dropped from the sky and landed on my shoulder. For me, it was an odd, uncommon occurrence. My lunch companion zoned out in phobia.
Circling back to my point, I appreciate the individual and avoid birds out of empathy. She doesn't care whether I appreciate her Black experience or not. Some things are more important...like birds falling from the sky/sigh.
I had a great comment prepared, and it disappeared! Just like that.
Let's try again. I enjoy writing. Writing is a gateway into our common humanity, the stuff of life. I write the things I know free of dogma and slogan words. The more I examine my life, the more I can bring to the surface my American life. More writers and scholars and intellectuals should write into life as it is, not some theory of how life must be if we strain and contort language. I mean, white privilege. Really? It was a privilege to grow up on a street that bore my family's name, to worship under the roof of a church founded by Grandma's Grandfather, to become the handiwork of a farsighted Mom, to know small-town southern desegregation in the 1970s, etc.
Don't get me started. Could be another essay/double smile.
Out of billions of people on the planet, I am insignificant and yet there is only one me. I write essays with high sensitivity because I have turned on my race consciousness switch. Once the essay is done, I pack up my bags, turn off the race consciousness switch and live my normal life. Until I encounter race consciousness from family members. So, I am not feeling pressure by and large. Besides, a good song by Sting always puts me in a great mood/smile.
I will continue to write and you continue to read and together we bring into the world something precious -- greater understanding free of things that don't matter, at all. To paraphrase Sting, I am an American Native to Virginia Living in San Diego. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d27gTrPPAyk "Be yourself no matter what they say."
When I initially saw your headline, my first thought was “why should you?” I think that especially after reading so many of your essays, and the fact that the more I read, the less I think about your “blackness” or my “whiteness.” Does it really matter if it doesn’t matter to us?
For whatever reason, we don’t talk much about the different classes of white people. I can’t remember the last time I read or heard anyone talk about some of the white people who still live in relative isolation and poverty in Appalachia. A friend recently told me the story of her youth, and how she ended up there as a young, married woman. I can’t even imagine, but I’m grateful that it wasn’t my life. However, I also don’t relate to a lot of white people. I grew up in a middle class family, and so did most of my friends. I’ve been around people who have money, come from “old” families, etc. Their lives are different from mine, so I’m not sure how I’m supposed to “fully appreciate” either situation.
If I’m misunderstanding your point, I apologize. I’m sure the pressure for you is much higher because this seems to be a topic that is consuming us lately. So, I don’t have that. But, the thing is, I think you are unique in that you are you. Your experiences are different than mine, and yet we have found common ground because of our interests in people as a whole. Finding the things that make us relatable to one another is so much better than trying to figure out who screwed who.
That there is a single "black experience" is just as silly and simplistic as the idea of "white privilege." This could easily be "The (white) voices of Brooklyn are amplified at the expense of suburban and small-town voices."
Truth on Sunday morning.
Not much to add to your great comment. Labels will always fail us. We humans are organic and passionate and sensitive and scarred and quirky and all the rest. Know the individual person before you. That person has a memory of profound joy, dark despair, unique fear, cosmic wonder and creative expression. I know someone I like. I hope she stays around/fingers crossed. And yet this happy, well-adjusted, and creative person has a software flaw. She falls apart upon the sight of a bird. Yes, birds are her terror. One has to accept her fear of birds as part of her existence. I am not that way but I understand haunting fears.
When we first met for lunch, a dead bird dropped from the sky and landed on my shoulder. For me, it was an odd, uncommon occurrence. My lunch companion zoned out in phobia.
Circling back to my point, I appreciate the individual and avoid birds out of empathy. She doesn't care whether I appreciate her Black experience or not. Some things are more important...like birds falling from the sky/sigh.
I had a great comment prepared, and it disappeared! Just like that.
Let's try again. I enjoy writing. Writing is a gateway into our common humanity, the stuff of life. I write the things I know free of dogma and slogan words. The more I examine my life, the more I can bring to the surface my American life. More writers and scholars and intellectuals should write into life as it is, not some theory of how life must be if we strain and contort language. I mean, white privilege. Really? It was a privilege to grow up on a street that bore my family's name, to worship under the roof of a church founded by Grandma's Grandfather, to become the handiwork of a farsighted Mom, to know small-town southern desegregation in the 1970s, etc.
Don't get me started. Could be another essay/double smile.
Out of billions of people on the planet, I am insignificant and yet there is only one me. I write essays with high sensitivity because I have turned on my race consciousness switch. Once the essay is done, I pack up my bags, turn off the race consciousness switch and live my normal life. Until I encounter race consciousness from family members. So, I am not feeling pressure by and large. Besides, a good song by Sting always puts me in a great mood/smile.
I will continue to write and you continue to read and together we bring into the world something precious -- greater understanding free of things that don't matter, at all. To paraphrase Sting, I am an American Native to Virginia Living in San Diego. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d27gTrPPAyk "Be yourself no matter what they say."
Best as always,