18 Comments

I’m with her/you/they/them. My blinders are mostly off, however, they tend to creep back up. Thanks for reminding me to look hard into the mirror and lift the fog of anger, depression and poor me!

Please don’t stop writing 🙏🏼❣️

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Finally someone & that someone was You wrote the truth

I’m not American but I won’t forget your election outcome of 2016 when surrounded by white American women in an international school in China

& in that moment

I was shocked horrified & knew it wouldn’t end well anytime soon

& I knew I certainly didn’t belong & nor did my child in the school (we changed schools within months)

What was obvious was a pseudo sisterhood that appeared but it means competing to be seen outdoing each other for your child to be the very best at any cost but one must also conform & leave others out that are different it’s what you said “I’m ok first “ but be involved you need to be seen who knows who may help you climb the ladder always playing the game to insure they gain too often at the price of others then this seeps into society

The piece on what happened in New Zealand parliament I knew women like that my grandmothers & mother where woman just like that

and I finally remembered who I was where I was from & why I won’t & don’t stay silent

We can’t afford to be silent that’s what bullies want to put fear into you so you run and hide so they win

Not on my watch and not on yours

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This brought me to tears. I won’t deny my own urge to hunker down, hide my money under the mattress, and put my idealism back on the shelf. Living in a predominantly white city in a predominantly white state allows me to wallow in the misfortune of comfort—and it is a misfortune, for though my travels have exposed me to other cultures and to economic poverty, I can, for now, return to my little enclave of apparent safety. I don’t know yet how I will join the fight. I only know that I must.

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I *love* that "nice white ladies" has moved into the vernacular! And, that more of us are defecting from that false promises of that identity. Thanks for writing this.

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This was so hard to read because it's so true. BRB, demons to wrestle and paths to take.

(in a less pithy response, thank you for writing this.)

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Amazing synopsis… I can relate to this on every level - AND I’m also a Portuguese immigrant from the west coast (San Diego) … I know it’s hard to put yourself out there like this and I know you risk some friendships and a lot of internet hostility but really proud of you for saying all these things out loud, for what they are. Also, thank you for the activist list - I follow several on there already but will expand my knowledge and read work by the ones I don’t know already. Please keep this energy up. I’m here for it.

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Thanks Liz. I'm here for people who are here for this kind of energy!

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Thank you thank you thank you for your writing these words down and sharing them. Very powerful.

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Thank you for the pep talk.

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thank you for this. 💗

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Thank you for your writing, but it prompts more questions. So what action? If you're someone who's marched and written unanswered letters to those in power, if you've futilely confronted the DNC for its misdeeds (and subsequent losses), what else is there? There has to be some recognition that this White Supremecy and Male Supremacy stuff is fueled by billions of dollars, and a co-opted media environment, that can buy and create any desired outcome - so what do nice white ladies, or ANY ladies, or non-damaged men and women - DO? Sometimes the cockroaches end up belly-up because the poison is too strong.

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Well, I don't know you so I can't answer that question for you. That burden rests on you. Do your homework. Listen to women who are not like you. Listen to the people who've been fighting for a better world long before you realized you should join in outside of the occasional march or vote. Get to know what their struggles are. Amplify their voices. Engage with their communities. Most importantly: examine the ways in which you yourself participate in a system that perpetuates harm. Figure out how to start divesting yourself from that system. How can you change? What hard conversations can you have with people who respect you? What skills can you bring to the fight? My action plan isn't going to look like yours, but everything starts with self examination and a willingness to be uncomfortable as you confront hard truths. Ask why and how and who does this benefit? For me, this self examination often happens as I listen to women like the ones I listed above. I pay attention to where I want to cringe away from what they're saying, where I want to get defensive, where I want to jump in their comments and argue. Then I dig down and take a look at why I am feeling upset or defensive. What myths have I been believing? How can I unravel them? Once you start asking the hard questions of yourself, you never run out. There is always something new to examine. That's how you evolve and grow and find your own path of action, the places where your experience and skills and heart can be put to work for the benefit of others. Yes these systems of power are large and well funded and the powerful will never respond to your letters with anything other than condescension. So what. The billionaires depend on our labor. As one activist said, "We are not the persecuted minority but the unorganized majority." If you're tired of beating your fists against the Capitol doors, get local. Beat your fists against smaller doors. Write letters to city councils, to statehouse representatives. A friend told me recently that she's never considered herself an activist, that she doesn't think her voice can make a difference. Being an activist isn't some mystical transformation that happens to people like Greta Thunberg. Being an activist simply means you're willing to imagine a better world and do what you can to make it real. Being an activist means caring enough about other humans to speak up for them in whatever ways you can, like being the annoying person at the Thanksgiving table who shuts down your Great-Aunt's racist nonsense. Being an activist means you're willing to be transformed by the stories you hear, by the truth you see. No matter how difficult or painful that might be. Being an activist means you're not just paying lip service to a cause, you are in it for life. Election outcomes and feelings of futility be damned.

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LaDonna, thank you for pointing a finger at the warts!

When I lived in Detroit (a Black majority city), the term was “well meaning white woman”, which meant just that, I was well meaning - AND didn’t have a clue.

What I did learn - with the help of my beloved Black sisters was WHY I didn’t have a clue: I dripped with privilege because of the color of my skin.

If I might, for anyone who has not read "White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack", it’s a brilliant reminder of the blinders we must try our best to remove: https://www.nationalseedproject.org/key-seed-texts/white-privilege-unpacking-the-invisible-knapsack

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Living and Spain and you're helping me understand ways I can stay in the fight. Thank you!

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Well said. You can't stick your head in the sand and hope it all goes away

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I’ve been stuck in a two stages of grief loop. Anger - depression, and round and round I go. My first impulse was to write something, something scathing; let the anger animal loose. Let the fucker rip. But my Mother (nice, well not always that nice, not when she was angry with the world) but still; a nice white lady; she’s gone now but she spoke to me. When she was angry - with me - she would give me a crushing - “I am sooo disappointed in you. I thought that you were better than that;” arrow to my soul. For me, crushing. Longer lasting than raw anger. Something to chew on. And you touched on it LaDonna, seeing ourselves and our country in the mirror. Who we are. Who we REALLY are. No more bullshit. I am sooo disappointed in you (in us) America. I wanted to believe what I was brought up to believe. I wanted to believe that we were special, that I was special. Fuck…

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Tried to share this post on facebook. It was removed. Too much truth, I guess.

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Strange. I shared it on Facebook and it's still there. Maybe try again?

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