2020, what the hell was that?

My least sexy post ever

It is entirely possible that this will be the least sexy post Ive ever written, but also one of the most important. Now that we are four years out from the infamous year that was 2020, many of us are asking ourselves "what the hell was that?"

And every time we ask this question, we place the emphasis on a different word and find that the question has so many nuances it's hard to know where to start.

What the hell was that?

What the hell was that?

What the hell was that?

What the hell was that?

You hear the difference? With just five words we have asked five slightly different questions each time. And I am convinced that there are way more than five different answers. But there is one answer that I keep turning over in my mind. And it's one answer for the final question: what the hell was THAT.

[photo by Kelly Sikkema on unsplash]

As far as "the national conversation on race" is concerned, I think one thing we collectively experienced was a fundamental misunderstanding of racial justice and antiracism as lifelong commitments rooted in a framework for understanding history, power, ethics, and what it means to be human.

And because much of America was not primed to have a discussion about the frameworks for antiracism work, we ended up with superficial responses to chronic problems that require transformation instead of a list of rules for being deemed a good person/ally.

It's not hard to look around and witness the backlash to the progressiveness of the conversation. I never in my life thought abolition or defunding the police would be a part of mainstream media talking points. But there we were in 2020, trying to help newbies understand what has been a part of the antiracism discussion for decades in 30 seconds or less. As a result we are looking at book bans, erasure of affirmative action, the closing of DEI offices at corporations and on collage campuses, and the courts are right now deciding if a venture capital firm can offer grants exclusively to Black women because discrimination. It's WILD how swift and strong the backlash has been. But more importantly it's been effective. And I believe one of the reasons why it's been effective is because racial justice or antiracism work became trendy instead of transformative.

Let me ask you a few questions about the books that topped the 2020 must-read list. Do you agree with Dr. Ibram Kendi on his framework for identifying racism? What do you think of his assessment of the role of power in assessing how racism functions in society? Do you lean more toward Robin DiAngelo's understanding of whiteness? Do you lean more toward her understanding of the role of power, which differs from Kendi's? Have you been more influenced by bell hooks, or Audre Lorde, or Angela Davis?

I ask these questions, not as an intellectual shaming exercise. I ask because the answers to these questions matter: how do you think about history? How do you think about systemic racism? How do you think about the function of power? How do you think about human rights? How do you think about love for humanity and what it means to be human? And how do all of these connect or repel when thinking about white supremacy in America (or other parts of the world)?

What I'm getting at, is this work is deeply thoughtful and in so being is also transformative- not just transformative of the world, but transformative of our own hearts and minds. Antiracism work changes us. How we think about it dictates how we enter the room, who we center, who we are trying to become and the tactics we use to get there.

I by no means want to suggest that you must pick a team and stay there. We are always asking questions. Always trying to improve. Always trying to be increasingly inclusive. But without a framework for understanding the work you are participating in, you are far more likely to throw up your hands when things get tough; you are far more likely to be unable to assess how power is functioning and what your own values are for understanding what white supremacy is hoping you will do- back down.

This is work that I cannot do for you. This is partly what Black women mean when we say, "do the work". We have spent hours upon hours studying the intellectuals of freedom movements. We have spent hours listening to interviews. We have spent hours watching documentaries and connecting the dots between history and present. We have spent hours watching power manipulate folks who are desperate to believe there is no other choice. We have earned certificates, purchased textbooks, flown to retreats, attended conferences- all to understand not just why this world is antagonistic toward us but also HOW.

The HOW is where a lot of white people get lost because the HOW starts to implicate people. It starts to implicate those who control the budget. It starts to implicate donors. It starts to implicate administrators and CEOs and pastors. Its starts to implicate committee members and policymakers and managers. And very soon, it implicates them. Because they must decide if being on the side of power is more important than being on the side of freedom.

In 2020, we never got to framework. Black women were treated as magical negroes who could impart 30 second wisdom and knight white folks one of the good ones. But that's not antiracism work. That is not what it looks like to pursue racial justice.

You know where I see this disconnect the most? On social media- surprise, surprise. Because in the comments, people are quick reveal (by accident) that they are not functioning from a framework. They are not challenging their worldview with a new one. They are not seeking transformation of self and of community. And when those things are missing, they are also not doing freedom work.

Tell me who is influencing the way you think about freedom work right now.

-Austin

PS: as always I apologize for typos and appreciate your acceptance of my humanity.