Well, it’s been a tough week in North America. No - I’m not talking about the benefit concert that a number of African musicians put on to raise funds to help the UK and the US fight COVID (yes, that actually happened!). I’m talking about the recurring and ever-present existence of police brutality and systemic racism more generally that we can’t seem to get away from.
I’m been following the news stories and posts on social media related to the incidents that took place early last week in the US, and I have been struggling to use my words to express how I’m feeling about it all. How does one articulate the outrage and heartache of a problem so imbedded in our everyday way of life that it is barely reported. How is it so normalized that when the guilty parties are actually held to account for their actions it is almost more shocking than the act that led them to that position in the first place? How have we still not figured out how to all get along and appreciate our differences, respectfully - whether it’s skin pigmentation, sexual preference, religion, geographical origin, culture, etc.?
The two incidents that happened last week in the US have left me dumbfounded. First - how could anyone feel threatened by a birder? This is the least threatening activity ever, aside from maybe napping. But also, how is speaking in a calm and respectful manner justification to call the cops? Second, how did that cop not know the impact the placement of his knee on that man’s neck would have? It’s all so illogical, that infuriating isn’t even the correct word. How are we still here? How is this still our world?
As a white person born and raised in Canada, my privilege has provided with me with a pretty safe existence. Have I experienced hardships? Absolutely. Being a female anywhere in the world comes with countless challenges. Growing up food insecure, also not the greatest situation. But in both of those scenarios, I still have (or had in the case of my experience living with poverty) it easier than an entire proportion of the population. Why? Because we don’t live in an equal society. And quite frankly - it’s bullshit.
As a white person who lived in Africa, there was always a weird juxtaposition at play. On the one hand, I was a minority for the first time in my life. On the other hand, the idolization of what it means to be white is so ingrained into society - globally - that we cannot escape our privilege. People would literally bend over backwards to help me, if I were to ask them to. I’ve also, unfortunately, been witness to countless incidents when the “expertise” of an ill-informed or less experienced white person (sometimes me) was considered higher-value, than that of the local, far more knowledgable expert. It drove me nuts, and ultimately, was a large part of why I inevitably left Africa and returned to Canada.
But we as Westerners also don’t shy away from the unequal playing field in these circumstances. This is noticeably observed in the disparity between living conditions and pay from local employees holding the same posting as an “expat.” I have never held a position that payed a considerably higher wage than my colleagues (in fact, in several cases, I didn’t get paid at all!). And even this is telling of my privilege - that I could afford not to be paid. But I am digressing...
One of the things I find difficult, is in the process of storytelling. By nature, I love to write and to share my experiences and tell the story. But as I developed this part of me, I was also struck with the sense that it was not my place to tell many of the stories I wanted to expose or share. It wasn’t that I didn’t feel they were worthy of being told, it’s that when I look back at so much of history, the stories of hardship, the realities of minorities have all too often been disseminated by white people, in a white voice. And who am I, the most translucent of the Caucasians, to write about or study and attempt to document - accurately - these voices, when these very voices are the ones that should be heard? Why aren’t they being heard without the involvement of someone else’s voice?
This has led me to an internal debate that has yet to find a conclusion - is it more important to have the message heard or have the it delivered by the voice of the message? I could argue both sides. I have, in fact. But this still doesn’t solve anything. It doesn’t get to the root of the issue at hand, or does it?
When I put on my climate change hat, I have - and continue to - experience a rollercoaster of emotions since mid-March when lockdown became the norm. I've felt hopeful that change would happen, given the number of people who have prioritized being outdoors in meaningful ways. I've felt angry that people couldn’t make the link between climate change and COVID. I've felt overwhelmed by fear that I wouldn’t get to hug my loved ones again. And, more than I want to admit, I’ve felt apathy about the world around me. Yet, all of this, every emotion I’ve experienced over the last few months can be applied to the systemic racism that is sadly inherent in our society, but on a much larger scale.
Even when looking at the history of the environmental movement, we (rightfully so) give credit to Rachel Carson for kick starting things. Her work has changed how we look at chemical use in food production and beyond. She has helped to pave the way for meaningful action towards a healthier environment for all living species (not just us humans!) and sparked the creation of Earth Day (which just celebrated its 50th year!). But alongside the outrage that stemmed from her book Silent Spring (1962), was the onset of the Civil Rights Movement. If you think these two incidents are separate, you are terribly mistaken. Environmental justice (which is not focused on justice for the environment, but rather justice for those impacted by the destruction of the environment cause by others) as we know it today, was born at this same point in time. And it’s as much of an issue of systemic racism, as it is about saving the environment. Actually, it’s probably more relevant to the discussion of systemic racism than it is about the environment.
There is, right now, so much opportunity to change. We can change the way our economy operates. We can change the way we work, travel and play. We can change our education system. We can change the way our healthcare is delivered. We can change almost anything, because at no other point in time in recent history have we needed to rebuild our society almost from scratch to the extent we are seeing right now. And we’ve proven that we can play nice and work together to fight unprecedented things.
Look at the way countries are helping each other to understand this virus and to access testing, supplies, and other forms of aid. Look at the way we are mourning the loss of humans all over the world - not just the ones we know. Look at the increased outrage at how flawed health services are delivered. Look at the growing frustration of parents trying to work, parent and educate full time. Look at how we are seeing neighbours help their neighbours - many of whom had never spoken before. There is a growing momentum to break the status quo. There is also a growing urgency to do it now. And yet, I can’t help but feel, that at the end of the day, the fear of losing a privilege we have done nothing to earn is of higher importance, than the fear of changing nothing at all.
And that is why I continue to struggle to see hope for our future. This is why we have long been doomed as a species. Our priorities are wrong. Maybe they always have been. But I beg you to ask yourself - if not now then, when? When will it be any more convenient than right now to change the way we’ve been doing things? We can no longer be silent. We can no longer accept inaction. If not now... when?
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