When Will It End?

Undoubtedly, there are some negative connotations to the phrase “silence is violence” and it can be an oversimplification, but there are instances when it’s the closest sentiment I have to explain how I’m feeling. The latest manifestation* is the relative lack of response to the horrific May 14th race-based murder of 10 people simply going to the grocery store on a Saturday in Buffalo, NY.

Perhaps we’ve reached a point of desensitization and apathy that’s normalized such occurrences in our nation.

Perhaps we’ve always been at that point when it comes to people experiencing this world in melanated skin.

Perhaps there have been other more pressing topics to cover in the news cycle and in our interpersonal conversations with our loved ones.

Perhaps we’re just tired - sick and tired.

And silent because it hurts too much to talk. Or to think. Or to question. Or to try to explain why history continues to repeat itself. Or to realize that it doesn’t have to be this way. Or to posit that it’s the result of hate, dehumanization, feelings of superiority, fear, and an insatiable quest for power that lies at the root of it all.

In these darker moments, it’s actually okay to stand still and be externally silent. Allow yourself to feel disgusted, dismayed, distraught. Have a conversation with your interior self by reflecting, journaling, feeling all the feels.

If there’s a level of awareness to reach at the end of that journey, the venerable James Baldwin found it many years ago: “I imagine one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain.” In My Grandmother’s Hands, psychotherapist Resmaa Menakem further complicates the notion of pain to draw a distinction between clean and dirty pain that might have resonated with Baldwin as well. He contends that “clean pain is about choosing integrity over fear. It is about letting go of what is familiar but harmful, finding the best parts of yourself, and making a leap — with no guarantee of safety or praise.” On the contrary, “the alternative paths of avoidance, blame, and denial are paved with dirty pain. When people respond from their most wounded parts and choose dirty pain, they only create more of it, both for themselves and for other people.”

Racialized trauma is embedded in the fabric of our nation and the more we avoid that reality, the more stunted, close-minded, insular, biased, and fearful we become. In the United States, this is the house we inherited, as Isabel Wilkerson reminds us in Caste:

Not one of us was here when the house was built. Our immediate ancestors may have had nothing to do with it, but here we are, the current occupants of a property with stress cracks and bowed walls and fissures built into the foundation. We are the heirs to whatever is right or wrong with it. We did not erect the uneven pillars or joists, but they are ours to deal with now. And any further deterioration is, in fact, on our hands.

Hate is often the bodyguard protecting us from the pain of our history (and present), but it doesn’t remove pain’s existence or impact on our lives - whether we’re the ones projecting hate on others or the ones who have been deemed hate worthy. Lance and I believe conversations are a way to meaningfully disrupt silence that exists between groups of people, but they are never the full-stop answer to building genuine connections. They have to be coupled with action and paradigm shifts that allow us to engage with multiple perspectives and see each other as our authentic selves instead of the stereotypes resulting from fixed thinking. We have to embrace change, recognizing Baldwin’s pithy truth that “not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.”

*It pains me to say that the latest manifestation was the shooting in Buffalo when I began typing this blog entry; by the time I finished, the latest manifestation was the horrific shooting in Uvalde, Texas that resulted in the murders of at least 18 elementary students and one teacher.