My Middle-aged White Lady Perspective: Juneteenth

I'm not going to pretend - not even for a minute - that I know everything there is to know about Juneteenth.  What I do know is from the 30,000-foot level, which, as a particular executive I used to deal with always said, was "plenty enough detail for the moment."  

Juneteenth commemorates the day that Union soldiers made it to Texas and informed the slaves there that they were free, that they had been emancipated by President Abraham Lincoln - nearly two years earlier. That should be enough to give one pause, don't you think? You're free, no longer a slave, and it took that long for you to find out? (You can learn more here, if you're interested, or really, just do an Internet search. There's plenty of information out there.)

As a middle-aged white lady, I've done some soul-searching on racism, and tolerance, and bias, and prejudice and yes, on white privilege, over the years, admittedly most often when we hear about a black man, a black child, a black young adult, being killed by a white man in a police officer's uniform. I've talked about some of that in this blog, in the past, and I'm not proud of some of the posts I've written - because I can see my privilege showing, like a slip hanging below the hem of my dress back in the day. 

• I was too eager to see both sides of the story, and not hold both sides equally accountable. 
• I was quicker to judge one side and feel myself being dragged kicking and screaming towards a more balanced position, by the time I got to the last paragraph where I'd throw up my hands and wish for something better
• I would not commit to doing anything to make me better, to make things better, even in my own little circle, much less in the larger scheme of things.

I was - I am - a middle-aged white lady.  And until I went back and read some of my old posts, I didn't realize how much of a one I was.  Which is funny - curious/interesting/hmm... funny, not haha/laugh out loud funny, because I know I've talked about racism and bias and about trying to change my perceptions. I guess I just never put those posts here, or I have to think differently about how I tagged them.

Which brings me to the point of this: thinking differently. Challenging myself to think differently, or to at least think like the person I think I thought like, if that makes any sense at all?

A former co-worker sent me the information below. We've been discussing #BlackLivesMatter and racism and white privilege on social media lately. Most of the time we find common ground - sometimes it takes a bit - even though we have different perspectives. 

Her perspective includes being in the south, a black woman in a Mercedes with out-of-state-plates, driven by her black boyfriend, being on pins and needles as they were followed - for miles - by a white cop who only stopped following them when they crossed into another state. I will never have that experience - and she shouldn't have had it.

It's a simple list - only ten things - that white people can do to celebrate Juneteenth. 

Black and Brown people are calling on white people to stand with them and take action. They’ve been fighting too hard and too long. ​​​It made us think about what do we want white people to do to celebrate Juneteenth? 

10 Things We Want White People to Do to Celebrate Juneteenth

1. We want white people to deeply consider the wound of racism on the hearts of every Black American.

2. On Juneteenth we want white people to read, study Black history, Black poets, Black leaders, Black achievements.

3. We want white people to do things about racism as readily as they do things for their own children.

4. We want white people to make a list of resolutions, of promises, of vows about what will it take for them to use their power, their privilege, their platforms of power to give space to Black and Brown leaders.

5. We want them to find an accountability partner and make the list public of what actions they will take. They CAN do this on social media. A lot of those actions will be giving up privilege and making room for folks who they may not have noticed have no room at all.

6. We want white people to stop talking about how uncomfortable it is to talk about racism or police violence.

7. We want white people to stop being afraid of their own internalized white supremacy. I want them to search and look within at hard facts of thought and deed. Who cares about being comfortable? What about being true, brave and real instead?

8. Then we want white people to stop talking and listen to what needs to be done.

9. We want white people to plan on spending time in spaces with folks who are not like you.

10. We want white people to hold other white people accountable not on social media, instead with measured voices that call folks in to look and wrestle – to change. We are interested in courageous conversations, in hearing folks out and in allowing themselves to feel terrible and to let that feeling be a crucible for change.

I've read the list more than once, and I will continue to read it, to find my place in it, starting at the top and working my way to the bottom. Because I can do more than just find the posts that I thought I wrote that describe the me I am today, not the me I was seven or six or five years ago. 

And if I find I'm not the person I think I am today - or, even if I am the person I think I am - I have a path forward. Not just for today, on Juneteenth , but for tomorrow and the day after and the days, weeks, months and years after that.  

I'll still be a middle-aged white lady, informed by my experiences, but I'll be a better one, I hope.