My twins were twenty months old. Dinner at the pop up folding table in the kitchen. Food everywhere – on faces, fingers, bibs, the table, the floor, me.
Everywhere but on the plate or in the stomach.
I offered my daughter something new. She put it in her mouth. Screwed up her face in disgust. Reached into her mouth. Pulled out the food. Threw it on the floor in a rage. Looked me in the eye. Said:
"No like. Garbage!"
The conviction. The confidence. The courage to challenge authority.
I think she was on to something.
Boilerplate corporate statements in support of Black Lives Matter?
No like. Garbage.
All-White executive teams?
No like. Garbage.
White people saying "all lives matter"?
No like. Garbage.
All White boards?
No like. Garbage.
White people calling the cops on people of color in Central Park and Pacific Heights?
No like. Garbage.
White privilege?
No like. Garbage.
White cops killing innocent Black people?
No like. Garbage.
White silence?
No like. Garbage.
White fragility?
No like. Garbage.
White tears?
No like. Garbage.
White supremacy?
No like. Garbage.
White people in positions of power using their power to affect change?
Like. Not garbage.
White people throwing their food in a rage at White people who don't seem to get it?
Like. Not garbage.