The disclaimer

Since the events in Charlottesville I've been watching my friends online both in the U.S. and in Canada grapple with trying to make sense of the dramatic developments in our world and what we do about it. There are so many opinion pieces being written, so many posts, so many memes, so much information.

I've been struggling too. Struggling to keep up with the volume of information, to sift through the opinions on what to do, to process the intense feelings around such frightening and horrible developments. In conjunction with this, I have also been struggling with my own inner demons. It has opened a whole other can of worms for me. What do I personally do with this information? How do I process it? How do I use my voice to be part of a solution? What does that look like? What's the best course of action? What right do I have to say anything? What right do I have to stay silent? The questions are relentless and never ending.

The longer I work on this blog post, the less clear I am, the more questions come up, and the more inclined I become to just ditch the whole thing. I started this blog in the middle of August. I've worked on it several times, and it still feels incomplete and unclear.

Then there was an alleged terror attack in Edmonton. In my home town. Not far from where I live. Suddenly the stakes seem to have gotten even a little bit higher.

I watch my friends and their friends discuss, debate and deconstruct what happened here and I'm dismayed at some of the responses I'm seeing. I sat down this morning and asked myself what I can do. And the answer that came to my mind was to publish this blog. I don't know why, but I'm learning to listen to that little voice inside so here I sit, adding to my thoughts and hoping it makes sense to any of you who take the time to read it. I offer it to you as incomplete and imperfect as it it.

I've been feeling that familiar sensation of having things to express, stuff that desperately needs to come out but it's all jumbled inside, in chaos, ignored. I hope that if I do other things it will go away, but I know it won't, nor should it. It's my conscience. I feel an intense need to speak up, and that need is being equally countered by the desire to stay quiet and hidden. To not risk. Wondering if I have the right. Wondering if I can contribute in any meaningful way when there are so many others that are smarter/more educated/better writers, or any other myriad reasons I can come up with. The internet is saturated with opinions and who am I to add mine to the pile? What do I have to say that's any different? What do I have to add that's of value to anyone? And the most compelling reason...because it's hard and scary.

Scary? Yeah. HELL yeah.

My desire to "'get it right" when it comes to being an ally leaves me feeling immobilized. The burden of responsibility I feel as a white person sometimes feels pretty heavy. I feel really uneasy even writing that because I know that in the grand scheme of things it's a pretty slim excuse to feel shitty about myself, but when you are determined to beat yourself up somehow, this is as good a way to do it as anything else. And it's my truth.

I'm told that I need to lead the charge against racism and to step up and to make my voice heard. But I'm also told that I need to let people of colour lead the charge and that I should hold space for them to speak and voice their experiences.

Speak up, you aren't saying enough, you need to be part of the solution.

Shut up, let people of colour speak, you're saying too much.

I desperately want to be part of the solution. I want to do the right thing, and since it seems that there are so many opinions about what that is, I stay silent. I do nothing. I sit in my own fear of making a mistake.

This is unacceptable.

So...

What am I going to do?

This. This is exactly what I'm going to do. I'm going to be scared shitless to write and to publish articles about subjects that are difficult, including racism, and I'm going to do it anyway because my feelings of fear about writing something that might displease someone doesn't compare to the fear that people are living right now. Fear for their actual lives.

The time to speak up is now. Not after we've reached the point of no return.

I'm going to acknowledge that there is so much that I don't know and so much I don't understand. I will try my best to stay constantly aware of this and to filter my thoughts through this, but also realize that no matter how much I educate myself I will never really truly understand the experiences of others. I will have to listen to them and trust them when they tell me how they feel. And I will have to learn to accept that there may be times in my efforts when I get things dead wrong.

There's a damn good chance that I will at some point stick my foot in it and get chastised. And you know what? It will hurt my feelings. But I have to ask myself, is that enough to stop me from at least trying to make a difference in the world? Are my feelings really more important than working towards a solution to the horrific mess our world is in right now?

I'm gonna say no. So here is the disclaimer, and now on to the work.