I haven’t written a cookielove blogpost with any meaningful depth in some time. I think the weight of the world has been heavy on my shoulders, and it’s been tough to think about putting my thoughts down on paper. It’s been hard to imagine writing with the substance that this time in our history deserves. 2020 has been a year we won’t forget; or, at least I hope we won’t forget it. As I think about the major events of the year - Covid 19, Black Lives Matter (part deux, or arguably, part infinity….depending on how you look at it), the presidential election, just to name a few big issues in our world, writing a silly little blog seems so….trivial.
Yet, I feel a weird responsibility to talk about these things and to put them down in a space where at least I WILL REMEMBER and be moved to make personal change where I can.
Emotions are raw right now, the chasm between the left and the right is ever widening. It feels like we may never bridge that gap. I never would have thought I would see a day when the wearing of masks to prevent a public health crisis would be politicized. I never thought I would be examining my own biases only to discover that - wow - why have I not paid attention to the racial injustices in our country? Why have I sat by, ignorantly wallowing in my own white privilege while my black friends endure micro AND macro aggressions EVERY. SINGLE. DAY?
I want to write about my rising awareness of my own white privilege. There have been a couple of times recently when I noticed it in a big way - both of them while running. I think of the senseless death of Ahmaud Arbery in the state I call home - a 25 year old black man shot while out running by two white men - caught ON FILM. How many times do these senseless acts of violence happen when there are NO cameras in sight? When there are NO video replays of the tragic situation. HE WAS JUST OUT FOR A RUN. The list is endless; there are so many senseless killings of black people, I can’t list or even remember all of them. I focus on Ahmaud because he was running. I’ve been a runner for as long as I can remember. I often head out alone in the wee hours of the morning for a run; logging miles before my work day, clearing my head and finding that space in the day that is all mine to plan, to think, to elevate my creativity (something about running stimulates ideas and processes emotions and frankly, keeps me sane amidst the day to day life stressors) and, to keep my heart pumping and my muscles strong. I think about Ahmaud - maybe he was doing the same thing - clearing his mind, strengthening his body, working through stress.
The other day I set out for a run on a Saturday a little later in the morning. I decided on a longish run, mentally traced out the route I would do in my head, and set out under a blazing sun. I listened to my playlist ranging from Eminem to Prince to 2Chainz to Jose Gonzalez to U2 (just thinking about the diversity of my playlist makes me think about the beautiful diversity of our nation; of the melting pot of people that MAKE OUR NATION A BETTER PLACE). As I ran through the lush and gorgeous neighborhood of Druid Hills - a predominately white and wealthy neighborhood in the very diverse city of Atlanta, I took in the large mansions and sprawling manicured lawns. I picked this route because the old trees are so huge and provide a tremendous amount of shade in the hot Atlanta summer sun. As I approached the spot where I was about to take a right, I saw a “do not enter” roadblock sign was up. I knew the neighborhood well enough to know that if I didn’t take a right here, it would add at least another mile to my already “longer than my body wanted” run…so, I glanced down the road, saw some trucks working in the distance, but also saw enough room that a runner could pass. My instinct, as a rule follower by nature, was to choose an alternate route. However, my tired and aching middle-aged body said - ugh - you don’t want to run any further, just give it a shot. I listened to the second voice. As I turned down the street, I saw a policeman in a police car monitoring people like me. He politely rolled down his window and said “ma’am, this road is closed - the sign clearly says that ”. I smiled, waved, apologized, and said I was hoping that sign had been just for cars and that there would be room on the road for a runner. He flashed a grin my way and said - “no, ma’am”. I turned around. And then I thought about it. I thought about - I had broken a law. Disobeyed a clearly marked sign. I thought about recent events. What if I was a black man in that neighborhood, doing the same thing, and that police officer decided to do something different? What if, that police officer had thought the black man LOOKED like someone who had recently committed some robberies int the neighborhood? Would I have been issued a citation? Would I have been arrested? Would I have been shot? I know this will seem inflammatory; I honestly think (but, again, this could be my white privilege speaking) that most cops (most people, in fact) are not racist and are here to serve and protect ALL people. However, I have never been black. I have never been a black person running through a white neighborhood. I have never been mistaken for a criminal because of the color of my skin. THIS IS THE DEFINITION OF WHITE PRIVILEGE - for anyone who still says white privilege doesn’t exist; who uses the argument of - I grew up poor, I grew up from nothing, I grew up without any privilege. Those things are true for many, myself included, but I have never felt fear over the color of my skin. I have never been shot while simply out running. I think if we, as white people, just start acknowledging that, we will get there. We will get to a place where equality is real, and the world is a more just place. I need to believe that. I also know it’s only a start.
I HAVE been a white person running through a black neighborhood - many, many times. And, after the senseless shooting of Ahmaud, I had one of those runs, too. I had the thought - I wonder if these black people in this neighborhood are ANGRY that I, a white woman, can freely run through a predominately black neighborhood without the fear of being shot? Because I have never felt that fear UNTIL that day. UNTIL I realized that black people are angry right now - and they should be. Violence begets violence. Anger begets anger. If I were a black person witnessing so many senseless killings at the hands of white people, I would be angry. I can’t walk a mile in anyone else’s shoes, but the least I can do is try to imagine what that might be like. This is where understanding starts.
I spent the rest of both of those runs thinking about my white privilege. Thinking about the world we live in - so divided and so angry right now. Sometimes I can’t even pick up a newspaper or read a magazine article - it makes my soul hurt. I have to believe there are better times coming. I think about Anne Frank’s words “In spite of everything I still believe that people are really good at heart. I simply can’t build up my hopes on a foundation consisting of confusion, misery, and death. I see the world gradually being turned into a wilderness, I hear the ever approaching thunder, which will destroy us too, I can feel the suffering of millions and yet, if I look up into the heavens, I think that it will all come right, that this cruelty too will end, and that peace and tranquility will return again”. I am, and will continue to be, the eternal optimist. I will put my energy toward believing in a better world - for all of us. It is our diversity that is our strength. It is the variance of race, creed, gender, culture, religion, that makes our country so wonderful. The only way to erase hatred is to look within; look inside ourselves and find the light to illuminate the darkness. True change will only come from understanding, empathy and love. It starts with me.