Summer Reading

Today (July 4th), we headed over to Whidbey Island for a hike and to see some friends for a gathering. The time in the car and the time waiting for the ferry both ways allowed us time to read this book out loud today:

While it paints broad brushstrokes over America's history (as it is less than 200 pages long), it is an incredibly powerful read, and it felt so appropriate to read it today on the 4th of July. 

We also had time to watch this video by Fredrick Douglass' descendants who recite his speech about the 4th of July: 

https://youtu.be/NBe5qbnkqoM

There is so much to wrestle with as we listen to these words from Fredrick Douglas from 1852: “Your high independence only reveals the immeasurable distance between us. The blessings in which you, this day, rejoice, are not enjoyed in common. The rich inheritance of justice, liberty, prosperity and independence, bequeathed by your fathers, is shared by you, not by me. The sunlight that brought light and healing to you, has brought stripes and death to me. This Fourth July is yours, not mine. You may rejoice, I must mourn…”

So grateful for the time to read and listen and learn today....

We read the acknowledgements page just as we were pulling into our driveway tonight, and it gave me hope:

But there is no one I’d like to thank more than all the young people. Those who have read this book (and are now reading it) and those who may never break the spine. All of you deserve thanks. All of you deserve acknowledgment. All of you deserve to know that you are in fact the antidote to anti-Blackness, xenophobia, homophobia, classism, sexism, and the other cancers that you have not caused but surely have the potential to cure.

You know how I know this? Because I’m one of the fortunate people who get to spend time with you. I’ve been in your schools, have walked the hallways with you. I’ve sat at your lunch tables and cracked jokes with you. I’ve popped into your libraries and community centers, from the suburbs to public-housing complexes. I’ve been to the alternative schools and the detention centers. From inner city to Iowa. And what I’ve learned is that you’re far more open and empathetic than the generations before you. So much so, that your sensitivity is used as an insult, a slight against you. Your desire for a fair world is seen as a weakness. What I’ve learned is that your anger is global, because the world now sits in the palm of your hand. You have the ability to teleport, to scroll upon a war zone or a murder. To witness protest and revolution from cultures not your own but who share your frustration. Your refusal. Your fear.

But I have to warn you:

Scrolling will never be enough. Reposting will never be enough. Hashtagging will never be enough.

Because hatred has a way of convincing us that half love is whole. What I mean by that is we—all of us—have to fight against performance and lean into participation. We have to be participants. Active. We have to be more than audience members sitting comfortably in the stands of morality, shouting, “WRONG!” That’s too easy. Instead, we must be players on the field, on the court, in our classrooms and communities, trying to do right. Because it takes a whole hand—both hands—to grab hold of hatred. Not just a texting thumb and a scrolling index finger.

But I have to warn you, again:

We can’t attack a thing we don’t know.

That’s dangerous. And… foolish. It would be like trying to chop down a tree from the top of it. If we understand how the tree works, how the trunk and roots are where the power lies, and how gravity is on our side, we can attack it, each of us with small axes, and change the face of the forest.

So let’s learn all there is to know about the tree of racism. The root. The fruit. The sap and trunk. The nests built over time, the changing leaves. That way, your generation can finally, actively chop it down.

Thank you, young people. I wish I could name you all. But I’d much rather you name yourselves.