Our country was built on racism.
Racism against black people, indigenous people, Latino, and Asian people. And in recent weeks, many of us have been learning just how much anti-racism work remains to be done.
I confess that around the time my son was born nearly four years ago, I preferred to stay out of politics. I felt, as many of my white friends do, that politics are divisive. That it was something that drives people apart. That protesting and marching and writing letters and calling representatives don’t change a thing.
But oh, my friends, they do. Just look at everything that’s changed since George Floyd’s death.
In recent years, I’ve made it a point not to look away from the racism and prejudice in the world around me and inside my own ideas and thoughts.
This naturally led me to get into politics because the only way to productively try to help heal the injustices I saw in the world was to make calls, write letters, share posts, and make donations.
And I discovered two things: First, that politics does change things. And second, that only my white privilege allowed me to think that politics didn’t matter for so long. I looked away nearly all my life because I could.
Because racism didn’t affect me, I didn’t care enough to look upon others’ pain and figure out how I contributed to it and how I could make reparations.
That’s changing for me. And if you’re a white mama like me, it should be changing for you, too.
This past week, for the first time ever, I marched in a protest. Two, actually — both of them with my mom. One was in Anchorage, Alaska, and it garnered several thousand attendees. The second took place in the much smaller town of Palmer — population 8,000 — which is closer to where I live.
I wanted to bring my young son to the one in Palmer, but in the majority white, conservative community, threats of violence against protesters abounded on social media in the week before the protest.
But instead of scaring people away, nearly 2,000 protesters attended the Palmer march.
There I listened to a black woman read out the names of those who have died at the hands of police and white vigilantes since just 2014.
By the last names — Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, George Floyd — her voice broke completely.
The list wasn’t exhaustive. Police across the country have continued to respond in brutal ways to peaceful protesters, further proving the point that more change needs to happen. Lots more.
And guess who should bear the burden of this fight?
White people.
I wholeheartedly believe that every injustice perpetuated by white people today is the fault of my own racist ancestors. And it is my responsibility to make life better for the people we have hurt and put at a huge disadvantage for the past 400 years.
So the day of the Palmer protest, I wrote my name on my arm in permanent marker and laced up my running shoes, as instructed by the protest leaders.
Just in case.
My son helped me glue photos of Trayvon, Breonna, George, Aiyanna, Atatiana, Tamir, and Ahmaud to my Black Lives Matter sign. He held the heavy thing up himself and shouted, “Black lives matter!”
He is 3, which proves the point that our white children are never too young to care about fighting for a better world.
In the bathroom, just before I left, I filmed a quick video explaining my reasons for going to a protest with threats clinging to it. I also made it so my husband could show it to my son if something happened to me.
I said, “Your dad is nervous, and honestly, I am too. But I’m doing this because every single morning, black mothers have to worry when they send their children out the door in this country.”
Here’s the thing, fellow white mamas: These two protests were my first, but they won’t be my last. And in between protests, I am writing letters to representatives. Listening to black people’s generously given perspectives, stories, and history lessons. Making calls. Signing petitions. Buying books by black authors from black-owned bookstores. Donating. Helping to educate other white people as best as I can. Speaking up in person when I hear something racist.
These are all ways to march, mamas. Do what you can. If you’re like me, you’ll do it imperfectly and you might be scared and uncomfortable, but it’s not about you. Countless black lives literally depend on our willingness to march.
It’s 2020 and there’s so much to do:
Rewriting the history books our kids read to put the white perspective on the back burner and instead tell the truth about how this country was truly built.
Defunding brutal police organizations to invest more money and energy into social services to help people instead of criminalizing them.
Educating ourselves and our children.
Convicting every police officer or vigilante who kills a black person. All too often, charges are brought but never carried through to conviction and punishment. Or even worse, charges aren’t brought at all.
So many black people are out there fighting, but we need to rise up with them — and for them. They’ve been doing this for centuries, and we’ve been silent long enough.
We’re raising the next generation, mamas.
Let’s raise them to be anti-racist.
