When the blinders come off

I remember the first time I was accused of being racist. I was new to the condo board and Cyrol and I had begun to battle over his treatment of other people. In a rage, after I pointed out that he wasn't being fair about a situation involving the property manager, he responded that I was being racist and not respecting his cultural viewpoint. The goal of throwing out "racist" was simple: it was meant to shut-down the conversation and allow him to win, but at that moment I remember being horrified that a label I found so abhorrent was being applied to me as that was not how I saw myself in the world.

The past few weeks have ripped the blinders off so many, forcing them to confront their privilege and racial viewpoints. The response has been mixed on this front. One camp is hearing the call to begin educating themselves, focusing on listening and approaching the situation with curiosity despite being painfully uncomfortable with the truth. Then there's the other camp, where the focus is on justify their stances, fighting to maintain the labels and self-identification that allowed them a level of comfort in the world. What been interesting about this camp is watching to see how their fear drives them almost to the point of absurdity; maintaining their arguments even when it's clear that doing so is harming others. And that one very easy way to win this argument is to distract, playing a card about victimization or being harmed themselves.

It's no secret that humans struggle to talk about unpleasant truths. Racism definitely falls into that category, but so does gender identity and sexual preference. But this problem is more pervasive than these topics, present in any community where some hold power (social or political). Substitute "racist" with "radical," "judgemental," "sinner," or "oppressor," and you end up with a similar outcome, where those doing the screaming hide behind some moral justification they have for why they are threatening others. What it really is is an exposure of fragility and an awakening that what they hold true is in danger of being proven wrong.

One truth I learned to embrace is that being called "racist" isn't the worst thing that can happen to me. The worst thing that can happen is that I allow my fear of being labeled to prevent me from removing the blinders and finding learning from what's happening around me. True learning involves pain and failure, making mistakes, and stumbling. It means having to apologize for not knowing better and being embarrassed while being corrected. True learning means looking incompetent and weak; feeling like one is failing despite efforts made to do better. It's often an uncomfortable and demoralizing process, especially when the stakes are so high. And yet, not doing this work and leaving the blinders on is far more destructive. I believe that it's generationally hazardous.

On my end, my moments of misstep had good outcomes. With Cyrol, his accusation masked his own racism and bigotry, which ultimately lead to him stalking me for close to 11 years, ending with a judge warning him that his behavior was punishable (he would later be fired from the Seattle Public School District for racist statements inside the classroom). This week, I watched as other rallied around Samantha Francine as she refused to back down while being attacked by an aggressive man during a peaceful protest. And then there's been the outpouring of support for the transgender community on the heel of J.K. Rowling's essay denouncing the transgender community. Despite her claims that she is protecting women from becoming victims, people have been holding her accountable for her words.

My hope is that the good people are seeing will help convince them to keep the blinders off and take risks with learning and growing despite the fear of revealing some uncomfortable truths.