I often ask my partner to read my work before I publish or submit it. When I asked him to read my article titled Dear Black Voices, Questions for those with, and from one without, perspective I ended up hurt and angry at his reaction. I wanted to know if the article got my point across.
He asked me what the point actually was and as I tried to explain,
I am trying to understand how it really feels to be Black in America. I don’t want our “woke white person” point of view or the forwarded memes on Facebook, I want to know…
he interrupted me.
You clearly have not been listening if you actually don’t know.
…
He told me bluntly, “The article makes you sound ignorant.” I called him a yuppy and said he couldn’t actually think he understood, he and I both are the epitome of white privilege. He agreed but said that the answers were out there. He said that if I listened, I would hear them. He gave me some pop culture examples and pointed to Medium as a potential primary source.
I (not so) patiently explained that I didn’t believe the pop culture examples really represented Black lives or feelings and that many authors on Medium were saying they were tired of answering questions.
He pointed to that as proof that the answers were already there.
I stormed out of the room, made some last-minute changes, and published my damn article.
…
Three days after I published that article, DMX died. Growing up in the 90s I listened to grunge and hip hop with a devotion that has lasted into my 40s. X was one of my all-time favorites. In the car a day or so later, I put in “It’s Dark and Hell is Hot”, his first (and in my opinion best) album. Editor’s Note: “…And Then There Was X” is the best DMX album. The lyrics were the same, but I heard them differently than I did as a teenager.
But you don’t hear me, ignorance is bliss and so on
Sometimes it’s better to be thought dumb — shall I go on? — DMX, Let Me Fly
Shit.
…
My partner and I had both apologized for saying hurtful things during our disagreement over the article and he conceded that it was “Okay” to create a space for discourse and conversation. But, I suddenly wasn’t sure.
…
Over the next week or so we worked together preparing for the latest episode of our podcast, Singspiel Sessions. The episode, not yet published, is on the song “Move On Up” by Curtis Mayfield.
In the process of learning about the song we were introduced to Curtis’ album Super Fly, the soundtrack to the film by the same name.
The film is part of the beginning of a genre of films known as Blaxploitation. My partner, being a movie buff, was familiar. I was not. What I learned is that these films were originally made by Black people, about Black life and culture, and that they saved Hollywood in the 1970s. Then the white machine saw the dollar signs and turned the genre into crafted minstrel shows marketed to the white masses.
We watched Super Fly. I wanted to see it as a dramatization and not a depiction of real life, but somehow, I couldn’t. There’s too much real in it.
Look what would I do? With my record I can’t even work civil service or join the damn army. If I quit now, then I took all this chance for nothing and I go back to being nothing. Working some jive job for chump change day after day. Well if that’s all I’m supposed to do then they gonna have to kill me ’cause that ain’t enough. — Youngblood Priest
Holy Shit.
…
Around this time I downloaded Angie Thomas’s book, On The Come Up.
This book gives an unapologetically raw look at the life of Black teenager living in the inner city.
Every chapter tells its own story about what it is like growing up Black in this country.
Listening to the story unfold (I listen on Audible), I found myself scared, angry, and frustrated. Even though the story is told from the perspective of the main character, a teenage girl, I heard it as a mother. My heart broke for all 11 hours and change of that book.
Unarmed and dangerous, but America, you made us, only time we famous is when we die and you blame us. — Bre Jackson, On The Come Up (On the Come Up by Angie Thomas)
…
Yeah, people get killed around here, and nah, it’s not always by the police, but Jay says this was like having a stranger come in your house, steal one of your kids, and blame you for it because your family was dysfunctional, while the whole world judges you for being upset. — On the Come Up by Angie Thomas
Ho-ly Shit.
…
My partner had been right. The answers were there. They were already f*cking there. Black voices have been screaming the answers for decades. I just didn’t hear them.
I’m not entirely sure what to do with my new understanding. I honestly haven’t actually wrapped my head around my own ignorance, yet. I have been an anti-racist in word and deed for years. How could I have also been completely f*cking blind?
My article started with these words,
Systemic racism, anti-Black bias, and white privilege exist and are prevalent in the US. The Black experience in the United States is something that no one who hasn’t lived it can understand.
Dear white readers who want to argue about this … please be quiet and listen.
That’s who I was but I didn’t really understand. I still don’t, all the way, because I don’t live it. But, damn, y’all. The truth is there and it’s ugly.
I’m not really sure where to go from here, I only know that I am listening now, finally.
I’m sorry it took me this long to hear you.
—
This post was previously published on medium.com.
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