You Don't Determine Who I Am

"We cannot let those people who do not love us determine who we are."

– Nikki Giovanni

You don't determine who I am. I determine who I am.

You don't define me. I define me.

You might think that you can disrupt my flow, lure me into incivility, make me engage in performative outrage.

But you can't and you won't.

You don't determine how I interact. I determine how I interact.

You might think I will respond to attacks on my character, invest my time in petty online arguments, spend energy trying to prove to you my worth and value.

But you're wrong.

You don't determine how I live and act in my integrity. I determine how I live and act in my integrity.

You might think that I care what you think about me, that I give equal weight to your perspectives, that I will respond to your divisive tactics.

But you're wrong.

You don't determine my self-worth. I determine my self-worth.

You might think your fear will influence with me, your lies will inform my decision making, your disrespect will change my opinions.

But you're wrong.

You don't determine my truth. I determine my truth.

You might think my principles have no foundation, my values don't guide me, that my conviction is shakeable.

But you're wrong. 

You don't determine who I am. You don't define me.

I determine who I am. I define me.

Music Fridays: Playlist #1

Sometimes people see "Musician" in my headline and wonder if I'm a professional musician.

I do play in a reggae band, and I have recorded my own ragtime blues music.

I've made a few bucks over the years from tips and the nominal fees from restaurants, bars, and festivals.

I've played at some cool venues like the outdoor stage at Lagunitas Brewery or packed intimate house concerts. I've also played at a West Portal yogurt shop where the only audience was a drunk guy demanding Led Zeppelin.

So, no, I'm not a professional musician. But music is a big part of how I identify. And not just as a musician. As a listener too. As a seeker. As a global community member.

My social justice and equity work is based in curiosity and exploration of new ideas, people, communities, and concepts that were previously unfamiliar to me.

Same approach with music. I mostly stay away from mainstream. There's nothing more joyful than a new song from a new artist (to me) becoming my immediate favorite song.

Or learning about the history and politics that informs an artist's music.

It's all interesting, relevant, and interconnected.

So, on Fridays, starting today, I'm going to share a playlist I've created that represents a little bit of who I am, what I believe in, and what inspires me.

Enjoy.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2DzKnztSRlrtLdjmvokqvL?si=912e5d8284b04f39

I'm a White Guy Confronting Racism

I'm a White guy confronting racism.

I'm a White guy speaking about confronting racism, writing about confronting racism, facilitating conversations about confronting racism.

I've been speaking and writing and facilitating conversations about racism, social justice, equity, power, privilege, and a myriad other topics for a few decades now.

I feel confident that I can and should be doing this work. I feel like I have something to say that is informed, humble, valuable, and relevant to the antiracism conversation.

And, I'm still a White guy confronting racism.

I'm still White. I'm still a man.

I make mistakes. I sometimes step out of line. I sometimes speak and write in ways that are not received well. I can and should and often do receive criticism, condemnation, judgment, discredit, and dislike.

I accept that. I hear it. I feel it.

I learn. I grow. I improve. I evolve. I do better and I become better.

I absorb the criticism—similar to how I absorb perspectives that inform my work. By listening. By reflecting. By analyzing. By sitting with discomfort. By discerning.

I do all this with intentionality—constantly thinking of how I can show up and do this work better.

Because if I didn't do all this, then I would just be a White guy sometimes confronting racism.

Which would be stupid.

Are We Agents of Change or Not?

“If you’re a white man in America, you have a decision to make: become an agent of change or a victim of progress."

– Andrew Horning

White people, are we going to use our power for good or are we going to continue to use our power to perpetuate inequity?

Are we going to continue to sit on our privileged asses as countless people suffer under the grip of White supremacy?

Are we going to ignore the lived realities of people who don't look like us?

Are we going to gaslight BIPOC folks when they share their experiences?

Are we going to continue to engage in defensive, dismissive, condescending, sanctimonious, patronizing behaviors?

Are we going to continue to fear racial progress and equity and justice?

Are we going to continue to claim that we are not the problem, that we are "good," "nice," and "not racist"?

Are we going to sweep under the rug with a giant push broom any and all conversations about racism?

Or are we going to change?

Are we going to listen?

Are we going to be humble?

Are we going to be empathetic and compassionate and humane?

Are we going to continue to perpetuate the narrative of the privileged majority?

Or are we going to start telling a more accurate, more compelling story that includes a multitude of perspectives?

Are we agents of change?

Or not?

As Long As White People Continue to Attach to Whiteness

As long as White people continue to push the meritocracy myth we will continue to witness racial inequity.

As long as we continue to push the narrative that all people have to do is pull themselves up by their bootstraps and they can achieve whatever they want we will continue to uphold the status quo.

As long as we continue to push the concept of White exceptionalism—that we are the "good" White people doing "good" things—we will continue to perpetuate White supremacy.

As long as we continue to see ourselves as "normal"—without a race, without racial urgency—we will continue to to see ourselves as the top of the racial hierarchy.

As long as we fail to recognize how we can use the power our whiteness affords us to drive change we will continue to marginalize anyone who does not identify or pass as White.

As long as White people continue to be triggered by terms like White privilege and White supremacy, we will continue to opt out of crucial conversation about racism.

As long as White people continue to use our privilege to maintain our privilege and not to level the playing field we will continue to perpetuate oppression and injustice.

As long as we continue to attach ourselves to our whiteness, we will continue to push the false narrative that whiteness is supreme.

Believe Black People

Not sure how to play a role in the fight for racial justice?

Start by believing Black people.

Believe the Black man who says he's experienced racial microaggressions at work.

Believe the Black woman who says she feels tokenized.

Believe Black trans women when they see they don't feel safe on the streets or in the subway.

Believe the Black parents who say they worry for their teenage sons when they leave the house.

Believe Black men of all ages when they say they don't trust the police.

Believe Black people when they say there's no executive career path because all the current executives are White.

Believe Black trans people when they say that their intersectional identities make it twice as hard to navigate the world.

Believe Black people when they say they're exhausted from code switching.

Believe Black people when they say that White supremacy is a thing.

Believe Black people when they say that systemic racism is a thing.

Believe Black people when they say that power and privilege and intergenerational wealth are things.

Believe Black people when they say meritocracy is a lie.

Believe Black people when they say they've experienced trauma.

Believe Black people when they tell you their stories and share their lived experiences.

What can you do? Start by believing Black people.

I've Observed a Lot

"Observing without evaluating is the highest form of human intelligence."

– J. Krishnamurti

I've observed a lot of White men in senior leadership positions.

I've observed very few Black women in senior leadership positions.

I've observed a lot of White people speak fondly of the concept of meritocracy.

I've observed a lot of Black people leave companies after a very short time.

I've observed White people talk about how they trust the police.

I've observed that a disproportionate amount of prisoners are Black.

I've observed that White people find it difficult to talk about systemic racism.

I've observed Black people take on the burden of education about White supremacy.

I've observed White people hanging out mostly with other White people.

I've observed Black people being gaslit when they share their lived experiences.

I've observed White people avoid uncomfortable conversations.

I've observed Black people take on a lot of the emotional burden of being vulnerable.

I've observed a lot of unnecessary harm and trauma and violence and marginalization.

I've observed a lot of privilege and power and inequity and injustice.

I've observed a lot I wish I hadn't observed.

I've observed a lot I shouldn't have observed.

I've observed a lot that can't be unobserved.

Go Have Conversations About Racism with Other White People

A little multiple choice quiz I created for White people:

Complete the sentence:

White people shouldn't be having conversations with other White people about racism because...

a. White people don't have a race.

b. Black people are the experts on race and need to tell us what to do and say.

c. White people are just—normal, and don't have anything racism-related to talk about?

d. We've never really thought of ourselves as having a race, so it's awkward being in a space with only other White people, even though the majority of our professional, social, and political existence is with only other White people.

e. Racism doesn't really exist anymore.

f. The phrases White supremacy and systemic racism make us feel uncomfortable.

g. All the White people we know "aren't like that" and would never do or say anything racist.

h. We don't know what to say.

i. We aren't that interested.

j. It doesn't really affect us that much so why should we bother?

k. Nothing's going to come out of it.

l. We all voted for Obama. Twice.

m. All the people we know said they weren't racist so there's nothing really to talk about.

n. None of the above.

If you selected (n), congratulations! You're correct.

Now go have conversations about racism with other White people. You can begin any time.

Anyone Who Is Speaking the Truth Is an Outcast

"Anyone who is speaking the truth is an outcast."

– Pearl Means

Anyone who speaks truth to power is suspect in the eyes of the powerful.

Anyone who shares their truth with courage and vulnerability opens themselves up to ridicule and scrutiny.

Anyone in a position of power who aligns themselves with people on the downside of power is challenged by the people on the upside of power who won't understand the misalignment.

Anyone from a majoritized group who attempts to advocate for people from a minoritzed group risks getting it wrong, making mistakes, being seen as a performative.

Anyone who has the conviction to speak up for what they believe in, who centers empathy and compassion and humanity, is going to be seen by some as weak or angry or woo-woo or strident or politicized or uncompromising and all kinds of untrue labels.

Anyone from a privileged group who is worth two shits knows that none of those reasons to not speak the truth are worth two shits.

Anyone from a privileged group who is more concerned with being seen as an outcast than speaking the truth should reflect on why they want to be liked so much.

Anyone from a privileged group who is concerned about being and outcast should think about what it means to not be from a privileged group and be regularly outcast.

There Are Always Multiple Stories

Originally posted on LinkedIn on September 11, 2021.

Like many of us, I too remember where I was on September 11, 2001.

I too was shocked, scared, sad, angry—wondering what this meant for me, my friends, my family, the country, the world.

I too felt sorrow for the needless death. I too felt compassion for those who lost people they knew and loved and would never see again.

I too was confused and struggled to know what to do, how to react, what to think, how to move forward.

And, perhaps like you, I began to learn my history.

I learned that 28 years earlier to the day, on September 11, 1973, the CIA backed a coup in Santiago, Chile that left democratically elected president Salvador Allende and thousands of others dead.

This coup installed Augusto Pinochet for the next 17 years, one of the most brutal dictatorships in history.

I learned about similar CIA-backed coups in Iran (1953), Guatemala (1954), The Congo (1960), and dozens of others.

I learned that history is written by the winners. And that the winners aren't always the good guys.

I learned that history is never an either/or, a good/bad, a right/wrong binary.

There are always multiple stories. There are always multiple truths.

And there are always people telling the true stories.

The question is: are we willing to seek out, listen to, and believe those stories?

Why Do We Lack Urgency?

"To be Black and still be alive in America is to know urgency."

 – Hanif Abdurraqib

 Much of that urgency is created by the lack of urgency on the part of White people. 

White people, what are we doing to understand and appreciate and create the urgency in our organizations, in our communities, in our families, in ourselves?

What are we doing to move beyond our privilege?

What are we doing to use our power to drive impact and affect change?

What are we doing to stop wallowing in our complacency?

How are we changing our behaviors, our attitudes, our actions?

How are we building genuine relationships with Black people?

How are we holding ourselves accountable to know better so we can do better so we can be better?

Why do we lack this urgency?

What are we not seeing? What are we not understanding, appreciating, and recognizing about the way the world works, about how the systems of White supremacy continually oppress, marginalized, harm, and kill?

Why do we need to be told over and over again what we can see with our own eyes, feel with our own heart, believe with our own intellect?

Why are we not disrupting the status quo? Why are we not changing the systems?

Why are we not matching the urgency of Black people?

It couldn't be because we don't care, could it?

Consciously Avoiding the Five Poisons

I try to consciously avoid these five poisons:

1. Ignorance
2. Attachment
3. Pride
4. Aversion
5. Jealousy

This is my intention in all aspects of my life, and especially in my social justice and equity work.

I am constantly educating myself by witnessing the lived experiences and emotions and feelings of individuals and groups who far too often feel unseen and unheard.

I am mindful not to get attached to my opinions, my thoughts, my beliefs, my philosophies. Which is not the same as being committed to—and invested in—the outcomes that those thoughts and opinions may lead to.

I try my best to remove my ego from the equation. I'm not always successful of course, but bringing my attention to that dynamic allows me to mostly get out of my own way.

I don't avoid difficult conversations. I have confidence in my ability to endure, to persevere, to be resilient. I stay present. I listen. I hold space .

I celebrate others' accomplishments. Their success is a cause for joy, not sadness. Their achievements a cause for celebration, not envy.

These may sound like rather obvious assertions, and perhaps they are.

But how often do we partake in one more of these poisons and end up sabotaging our efforts that might have led to more socially just and equitable outcomes?

I suspect it's far too often.

Where Would You Go?

I have good work. I am making an impact. I feel grateful to have good relationships and good opportunities. I am regularly challenged and regularly experience professional, personal, spiritual, and emotional growth.

I am committed to my work. I am committed to the projects, individuals, and teams with whom I partner and strategize and collaborate.

I feel valued, heard, welcomed, appreciated by many people for many reasons.

In sum, there are a lot of compelling, meaningful elements of my life. And I have little to complain about.

And, how cool would it be to just travel the world for a year with little or no responsibilities?

Experience different peoples and cultures and music and food and events and the vast dynamism of the human condition? Here's where I'd go, a month each place:

1. Havana, Cuba
2. Mexico City, Mexico
3. Medellin, Columbia
4. Montevideo, Uruguay
5. Budapest, Hungary
6. Beirut, Lebanon
7. Tangier, Morocco
8. Timbuktu, Mali
9. Accra, Ghana
10. Colombo, Sri Lanka
11. Tashkent, Uzbekistan
12. Lhasa, Tibet

I know it's not that safe to travel. And this reeks of privilege. And I can't afford it. And the kids are in school. And many other logistics.

But it's something I've been thinking about, and thought I'd share.

Maybe others are feeling the same? Where would you go?

It Doesn't Have to Be This Way

White people don't get involved in racial justice work for a variety of reasons.

One reason is that they lack racial fluency. They don't know what to say or how to say it.

They haven't spent enough time in close proximity to the people and issues and dynamics and contexts and conditions that create and perpetuate racial injustice.

They lack familiarity with how to navigate complex realities, appreciate subtleties, and understand nuances.

So, after giving it a half-hearted go for a few weeks or a few months or maybe even a few years, White people realize this work is really fucking hard, drop out of the conversation, and continue doing whatever they were doing before their interested was peaked.

It's a recurring pattern that anyone who's paying attention can recognize.

But it doesn't have to be this way.

White people, if you are committed to driving impact and affecting change, know that it takes years of ongoing absorption of concepts and frameworks and terminology, ongoing observation of lived realities of other people, and ongoing connecting the dots between the two.

It doesn't happen overnight. It takes time.

With time, you will be able to articulate your authentic point of view and be relevant in the racial justice conversation.

Don't give up so easily. Don't be lazy.

All Discomfort is Not Created Equally

"I have learned to recognize the difference between a situation that is genuinely unsafe and one that is simply uncomfortable."

– Malkia Devich Cyril

White people, please stop equating your discomfort talking about racism and White supremacy with the genuinely unsafe conditions that Black people and other people of color endure daily because of racism and White supremacy.

They're not the same.

When you act and think like they are, you are perpetuating harm. You are perpetuating inequality. You are perpetuating inequity.

You are upholding the status quo. You are colluding with the system.

Let me be clearer:

White people getting defensive when they are told that White supremacy is a thing—>uncomfortable for White people.

White supremacy being a thing—>genuinely unsafe for Black people.

White people being told their unexamined White privilege is causing harm—>uncomfortable for White people.

White people not examining their White privilege—>genuinely unsafe for Black people.

White people being held accountable for perpetuating systemic racism—>uncomfortable for White people.

White people perpetuating systemic racism—>genuinely unsafe for Black people.

All discomfort is not created equally. Your discomfort is not unsafe.

Your discomfort is not at the center of this conversation.

Lies Are Like Bombs

"Lies are like bombs. . .They explode into the air shattering everything in sight, bits and pieces of our lives. I want to tell the truth. I want to say this is how it really is yet when I tell the truth they never accept it. It never fits with anything they want to hear."

- bell hooks

Whiteness is a lie.

A lie that over the centuries has become truth.

For those who identify as White.

And for those who are not White, who don't identify as White, who don't want to be White, who can't and won't ever be White, there is a different truth.

A truth that whiteness doesn't want to hear. Doesn't hear. Won't hear.

Can hear but chooses not to hear.

Because it has chosen the lie that is White supremacy.

A lie that over the centuries has become truth.

A truth that dominates narratives and psyches and politics and board rooms and dining rooms and executive suites and neighborhoods and communities. 

That intimidates and suppresses, demands obedience and oppresses.

That marginalizes and exploits, subjugates and represses.

That explodes and shatters everything in sight.

A cacophony of sound that leaves little room for the truth that is not White supremacy.

A seemingly endless din of reverberating dissonance.

That prevents the true truth from being heard and believed and understood.

Do You Really Need to Be Told What to Do?

White people are always asking what they can do to fight social injustice and inequity.

This is the wrong question to be asking.

Asking what we can do signals that we don't know what to do, and further that we are incapable of figuring out what to do on your own—that we need someone else to give us instructions.

The challenge of course is that "what to do" is highly contextual in any given incident, relationship, organization, political dynamic, etc.

The generic "what to do instructions" won't be applicable across every situation. And even if they were, without a deeper understanding and appreciation for the nuances and complexities of social injustice and inequity, are we really addressing and solving problems?

Or are we just band-aiding? Or worse, performing?

Most (but significantly not all) White people are better than that. If we choose to be better than that.

If we're truly committed, we will immerse ourselves in new situations, absorb new perspectives, continually observe how social injustice and inequity get perpetuated, connect the dots, articulate our clear point of view, and step up to intervene by challenging and disrupting unjust and inequitable systems.

In other words, we will do our own work!

When we do, "what to do" will emerge, and we won't need to be told.

What to Do if You're Triggered by the Term "White People"

Some may think that I hate White people because I speak against White supremacy, am critical of White people as a group, and call out the systemic racism, marginalization, and oppression that White people perpetuate.

Not true.

It's this binary "either/or" way of thinking that prevents too many White folks from engaging in racial justice work, or understanding the nuances and appreciating its urgency.

As long as White people are continually unable to talk about the evils of White supremacy without feeling like they hate White people, we will never make progress toward racial justice and equity.

And the systems and institutions will remain exactly as they are—with White people on top and everyone else beneath them.

Here's the thing:

Most of my friends are White. My entire family is White. Most of my colleagues are White. Many of my social circles and communities are White. In sum, I am regularly surrounded by whiteness. As we all are.

And here's the other thing:

I have the ability—as do you—to discern the character of any given individual White person, while also understanding that the system of White supremacy is perpetuated by the individual and collective unexamined attitudes of White people.

So, White people who are triggered by the term "White people": Get over it.

Why I'm Able to Do the Work I Do

It's relatively easy for me to do social justice, equity, and antiracism work because I'm not worried about the relationships with White people I might estrange or lose because of my work.

Since I'm not interested in the White solidarity that my privilege and power and social capital afford me, it's much easier for me to make decisions on right and wrong.

Since I am unencumbered by what other White people may think or say about me, I can act with integrity and purpose.

Because I understand and appreciate the history of oppression and marginalization on all types of groups and communities on the downside of power, I can speak with conviction and take decisive action when I need to.

Because I have a clear sense of right and wrong, I am not bothered by attempts to attack my character, belittle my perspectives, or dismiss my point of view.

Taking a clear position, standing in my truth, advocating for change, disrupting the status quo, challenging the narrative of the privileged majority, driving impact, influencing others to do and be better—these are all non-negotiables for me.

Because I have focus and commitment and dedication and clarity and principles, I am more able to do my work with consistency and intentionality.

Even when people try to convince me to do otherwise.

White People, We See You

"Don't spend so much energy fighting this idea that you could possibly be racist. That's a total waste of energy. It's like a bunch of White people lined up, hiding behind this real skinny pole. And we see you. We already know you're racist, so, get over yourselves."

– Anika Nailah

We see you rolling up your window driving through the "bad part of town."

We see the ten (out of eleven) of you on the leadership team.

We see you move train cars on the subway.

We see you give the promotion to the less qualified White person instead of the more qualified Black person.

We see you not talking to the Black family at the kindergarten pickup.

We see you talking over your Black colleague at the meeting.

We see you clutch your purse walking out of the coffee shop.

We see you shorten your co-worker's name because you haven't learned to pronounce it.

We see you using euphemisms like "ghetto" and "urban" and "inner city."

White people, we see you. It's too easy to see you. Stop pretending that we don't see you.

Stop pretending that you're not racist. Recognize and accept that you regularly do and say and think racist things.

And then intentionally try to stop doing and saying and thinking those things.

That's a much better use of your energy. And more beneficial for everyone involved.