The Good Ally
At work our DEI person was moderating a book study using The Good Ally by Nova Reid. From the cover: A guided anti-racism journey from bystander to changemaker.
As if social media is not fraught enough—it drove me crazy
during the pandemic and the George Floyd protests all the grandstanding by
white people. I get it, I wanted to see things change too, yes, it was all so
horrible and senseless—but I didn’t feel the need to put everything out there
online.
I was busy holding doors for people. Sort of a lie. I was
busy riding my bike through Iowa on my cross-country bike trip. Politics and
the politics of living/dying had compelled me to hop on my bike and embark on a
43-day, 2,400-mile bike trip. I needed to excise the pain out of my body and
head.
When Kamala lost I had the same sensation. The need to get n
my bike. I rode to a bridge on the Lansing River trail where I met Lillian,
where we cried and ate stale cookies.
Back to being an ally. I’m not even sure what this word
means. I can define it but it’s something more. It’s a coming-along-side-of, an
opening of the hands, of being vulnerable, offering prayer, hope, good vibes,
sending out empathy. Which doesn’t sound much like anything.
I’m convinced that during these early raw days,
post-election, male allies need to be careful. Yeah, you’re upset and
struggling too, but not like women. Yes, I believe you’re a feminist and
support me—only you are not me. You are not inside my head and heart right now.
While setting up a machine at the polling site a man kept telling me as I
struggled to open a hard-shelled case he’d given up on—Don’t break a nail. I
fumed inside—Why is he worried about my nails!? Go worry about your own and
leave me alone. The same guy, who at the end of night, started to take down
equipment without following the close instructions! When I told him to stop,
consult his manual, he thought I was being way too picky. Excitable. Such as,
Calm down, lady. I was ready to not only break nails but eat them too.
Right now, I need my male friends/family to be allies. For
me that feels like listening—not offering advice—it means sitting on the mourning
chair next to me, sitting shiva. We can go on, only if we recognize the strength
in each other and encouraging agency.
Thanks for listening/reading.
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