I'm on my way to Oceti Sakowin camp to support the water protectors. This is my second trip. The urge to come out here first arose when I viewed a rough phone video of dogs attacking Native Americans on September 3. The thought arose, "there should be white people there to stand between the Native people and the dogs." And I wanted to be one of those white people. (As a light-skinned Arab-American of Christian heritage, I have characteristics of both white and non-white.)
Yesterday I recalled the life events that allowed that thought to arise.
Growing up during the civil rights movement of the 1960's, I enthusiastically adopted the idea that black Americans should have the same rights and protections as whites. I strove to act color blind, to treat everyone the same regardless of race-- a seemingly anti-racist strategy that was in the air at the time. I was shocked and ashamed to realize, when I went to college, that despite these intentions I was ill at ease around black Americans. I've thought about this a lot and I still can't exactly put my finger on it, but it's something about fear that they will see me too deeply and then reject me or laugh at me. Zarina heard from a racial equity consultant, "White people want to be seen as good. People of color want to be seen." The need to be seen as good, or at least to not have my non-goodness reflected back at me, runs strong in me, and is an aspect of my whiteness.
I think I can put this unease concisely: I am afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing, and on an emotional level the stakes seem very high. I also felt this unease around Native Americans but encountered it less often.
I've not liked this discomfort. But it has only been recently that I've felt the inner strength and had the outer support to face the discomfort. And, only recently has it become clear to me that facing this discomfort is necessary for the embracing of my full humanity.
About 18 months ago, Zarina's workplace began racial equity training for its small staff, a lengthy and intensive program that continues today. Zarina's understanding was deepened and she shared with me and Eric ideas that deepened our understanding as well. So it was that in August 2015, when two black women interrupted Bernie Sanders as he was about to speak to a crowd gathered in the hot sun in Seattle's Westlake Plaza, interrupted him to talk at length about oppression, I was easily persuaded to see that this was a good and right thing. And then: shocked to see that others, my white friends, relatives, neighbors, and co-workers, did not for the most part see it that way.
Zarina then encouraged me and Eric to also seek training in racial equity. We began attending events organized to raise the awareness of white people.
As a result I have become aware of the enormity of the privilege enjoyed by white Americans. (And I use that word "enjoy" with hesitation, because this privilege is something that lulls us to sleep and strips away part of our humanity.) Part of that privilege is the expectation of being treated with a certain measure of respect almost everywhere we go. I learned that during political demonstrations if white people are present then treatment by security and law enforcement is likely to be more civil.
This training has also deepened my understanding of negative judgments I've held regarding some words and actions of some black Americans and Native Americans. I've seen more deeply that these judgments are rooted in white supremacy-- meaning that I and every single person in America have been taught that the ideals favored by white people are the correct, best ideals. Things like hard work, efficiency, succeeding in a career, financial planning, living within one's means, operating as an independent person, and even using correct spelling and grammar. The phrase "white supremacy" is very upseting to we white people who think we're anti-racist because it brings to mind the KKK and other forms of overt racism. It took me a while to understand that it also describes this supremacy of ideals. Because white folks hold the power in America, these ideals are imposed upon everyone. And further, these ideals are deeply entangled with the genocide and slavery that enabled white domination. These ideals continue to perpetuate the genocide and slavery, in ways that are designed to be easily ignored by whites.
I stand with the Standing Rock Sioux water protectors because all of the above gives me 100% certainty that their voices have been grossly disregarded by the decision makers. Because the well-being of all humans and the planet depends on shattering the illusion that our white-dominated legal, governmental, and economic system is a just one for Native Americans.
And it is also true that I do not know why I stand with the water protectors. I just know that I am sitting on an eastbound train with the intention of getting off in Minot, North Dakota, and making my way to Oceti Sakowin camp, where Eric and Sooja will be waiting for me.
