Beyond Book Clubs

Reflect. Dismantle. Invest.

Repeat.

I shared an article last night about book clubs by Tre Johnson and realized this morning I have more to say about it. I hope this will be helpful, as my intention is to write and share in ways that keep us pushing forward.

You all know I am a book person. A book lover. We learn in and from books. Books can soothe, challenge, accompany, expand, radicalize, mind-blow, deepen, dimensionalize, and galvanize. (Full disclosure: I am not really a book club person, which has everything to do with my lack of discipline.)

The fact that our required knowledge of Black history and the history of race and power in America is limited to a few key dates and events, leaving out connective tissue that literally creates the body of this country, is not accidental. That is a whole other post.

But in the curriculum that is our lives, the fact remains that this learening is largely if not entirely elective. I say, whatever gets you through the door.

So if a book club gets you through the door, good on ya.

However, look hard at that book club.

Who's in it? What are you reading? Are the discussions circular and focused on white feelings about the learning? Are you holding yourself and your fellow book clubbers to self-reflection that will lead to looking hard at where you uphold the code of whiteness in the club itself, in your family, in your friend circles, at work? Have you put time into learning and understanding what constitutes that code and how it shows up in your own life?

Tre Johnson: "I’d like to think that well-meaning, invested white people are really gathering to talk about books to instruct themselves on how they can do more and do better, but it’s hard to believe that that’s really what most of them are working toward."

He continues:

"The right acknowledgment of black justice, humanity, freedom and happiness won’t be found in your book clubs, protest signs, chalk talks or organizational statements. It will be found in your earnest willingness to dismantle systems that stand in our way — be they at your job, in your social network, your neighborhood associations, your family or your home. It’s not just about amplifying our voices, it’s about investing in them and in our businesses, education, political representation, power, housing and art. It starts, also, with reflection on the harm you’ve probably caused in a black person’s life. It may have happened when you were 10, 16, 22, 36 or 42. Comforting as it may be to read and discuss the big questions about race and justice and America, making up for past wrongs means starting with the fact that you’ve done wrong in the past, perhaps without realizing it at the time: in the old workplace, neighborhood, classroom, softball field. Maybe even the book club."

Three words form this paragraph leapt out at me: Reflect, dismantle, invest.

Together, maybe these are the foundation tor true repair.

Book clubs may be a place to reflect, but if we leave out the other two verbs in this equation, we are sorely missing the point.

This "right aknowledgement" means REFLECTING on the harm we have caused -- directly and indirectly, looking at the power we have in our own "spheres of influence" (this phrase from Ericka Hines underpinning my thoughts here and elsewhere) to dismantle the status quo or "the way things are," something that will force us way, way out of our comfortable circles and familiar conversations where we still so badly want to give our white friends and colleagues the benefit of the doubt. This is how DISMANTLING begins and continues. The INVESTING part of the imperative should have us looking closely at how and where we spend our money, our time, and our social capital.

Again, quoting Tre Johnson:

"The confusing, perhaps contradictory advice on what white people should do probably feels maddening. To be told to step up, no step back, read, no listen, protest, don’t protest, check on black friends, leave us alone, ask for help or do the work — it probably feels contradictory at times. And yet, you’ll figure it out. Black people have been similarly exhausted making the case for jobs, freedom, happiness, justice, equality and the like. It’s made us dizzy, but we’ve managed to find the means to walk straight."

If you feel overwhelmed right now, if you feel like there is no way to get this "right," pause. Take a deep breath. I am not being figurative about this; slowing our nervous systems and reconnecting with our bodies is not frivolous. Find your own center. Maybe get out a piece of paper and write down your fears about "doing it wrong."

Then do it anyway. The "it" is not hard to find. It is literally everywhere.

There is too much at stake for white people who care, who say we care, not to. We see it everyday, and at this point, anyone who doesn't see it has made their choice clear.

This is about Black lives. About the right to thrive without the boot of whiteness, the criticism or approval of whiteness, the constant pushback and centering, the gaslighting, the insistence of softening language or tactics. Think about how exhausting living with that shit every day must be -- on top of the exhaustion of all of the other things -- relationships, parenting, money stress, physical and mental health issues, and all of the other "isms" we must contend with and navigate.

It has taken me a very long time to learn that being firm and direct is not the same as being harsh. This has certainly been true for me as a parent. And I suppose it's true for me here, now.

I believe in us or I would not bother writing. I will no doubt get some things wrong. I pray not to cause harm, but if and when I do, I will listen and make amends. But I will not stop. Not until we are all free.