Puzzled

Today a Sark quote:

(page 17) “I am not always a positive person….Being ‘positive’ is a choice. I am flooded with the same doubts, terrors, insecurities, rages, incessant worries, and critical inner voices as everyone else—maybe more!”

I choose to be positive today, but first I have to figure out how to get out of my way. Hopefully it won't take long. Realistically, it'll probably take all day.

I'm struggling.

I thought I'd start the day building a puzzle, but making sense of the pieces spread out on my dining room table is too overwhelming right now.

So I answered email, and found myself overwhelmed at the task I gave myself, of revealing that a friend's actions (more accurately, lack thereof) were rather hurtful. It took me over half an hour to write approximately 6 sentences.

Maybe now that confronting unpleasantness has been taken care of, I'll be able to face the challenge of a jigsaw puzzle.

For now, I'm listening to music and doing my best to put my emotions into words.

I have decided to open an account on one of the web pages I visit and invite strangers to read my words. The thought is nearly overwhelming, as I worry that I'll be dismissed as self-indulgent. And then I realize, I have often not shared for similar reasons. I talk myself out of sharing all the time.

Last night at work, I dealt with a racist prank caller. The manager was ineffective in dealing with the jerk, and wanted to have a Black person answer the phone and deal with the bigot who claimed to be allergic to African Americans. So I took charge.

I answered the second phone call. I told the person that they were not to call again or that I would call the police, then politely but firmly got off the phone. That wasn't enough. They called back, so I told the person that they were incredibly offensive, to dunk their head in a toilet, and that I was going to call the police as soon as I got off the phone. I hung up as they scrambled, demanding that I not hang up.

I didn't call the police. We don't have caller ID, so it would have been pointless, but the bigot stopped calling after that.

I have trouble reconciling the thought that the target of someone's racist drivel should take care of the problem. I was plenty effective enough at getting the phone calls to stop, white girl that I am. Why add to my Black coworker's experience with racism, if I can step in and say enough is enough myself?

There is plenty of misery to go around, and I don't need to add to anyone else's misery by not taking care of a problem myself.

Now I'm going to work on a giant jigsaw puzzle and hope I'm no longer overwhelmed.

Intersections

Today I am reflecting on portions of "Coming of Age: Civil Rights and Feminism" by Barbara Emerson in The Feminist Memoir Project: Voice From Women's Liberation (edited by Rachel Blau DuPlessis and Ann Snitow).

(page 69) [Anita Snow:] "The radical feminists that I knew and worked with in the seventies were all professed antiracists, and as I said, many of us were inspired by experiences in the Civil Rights Movement. So if you would have said to us back then, this women's movement you are building is a white movement, we would have been very defensive about that."
[Barbara Emerson:] "What is wrong with it being a white movement, if by that we mean that it was addressing the needs of white women? Now, what would be wrong would be for white women's movements to deny that women of color have different needs, and to deny sisterhood thats necessary for all of us to address the problems of women."

This blog is about my experiences, my thoughts, and my desires. It comes from my experiences and privilege as a White woman in the USA.

I've come to the realization that I am uncomfortable taking from and commenting on essays by people of color (POC on many blogs), because I feel that I am somehow minimizing the difficulties that women of color especially have that I am not subject to. But I don't want to shy away from anyone who has something to teach me.

I realized as a teen that I am racist. I'm no longer a teen. I'm not naive and privileged enough to claim that I'm not racist.

I grew up hearing racist slurs against Hispanics, Blacks, East Indians, and Asians (I separate the two from recognition of cultural differences). I don't repeat the slurs, and I've refused to teach them to my children.

Despite the racism inherent in my upbringing, I value my friendships with Hispanic, Black, East Indian, and Asian people. I learned about many different cultures and religions growing up, and feel that that knowledge is a gift. When 9/11 happened and Arab American and Muslims in particular were demonized, it was shocking to me. How could anyone be that ignorant to be scared of someone because of the color of their skin or their religion?

But here I am, admitting that I am racist. My attempts at educating other Whites about racism are born from educating myself. My intolerance of racism in others stems from not tolerating the racist thoughts that occasionally cross my mind.

I consider myself a womanist ally, as I cannot and will not steal the label womanist for myself. Womanism grew from the racism inherent in mainstream feminism.

As I explore essays and writings by women of color, I hope that I am able to overcome my privilege and not say stupidly racist things. I will be taking from the writings that which speaks to me, applies also to my life, or things that maybe I've never thought of before and that I wish to mull over. I hope I'm not offensive in my responses, but acknowledge the possibility that I may end up being unintentionally offensive anyway.

If I do end up being offensively racist, please let me know. I recognize I'll never be done learning.