I could feel the tight rolls on my forehead between my eyebrows in the place where tension was held. I tried to actively release it and the feeling was still there. I could feel a knot in the back of my throat, that same feeling right before you have to tell someone bad news. I could feel my entire body crunching inwards. Sitting on an old church pew, I suddenly realized my body language was shut off as I leaned further into the crevice that was the space where the side and back of the pew met. I was asked to notice all of these things and pay attention to them, after watching a video of a little black girl, maybe 7 or 8 years old, get hand-cuffed by police officers for not being able to settle down in a class at school.
For some context, this video was shown as a part of a nine week course I'm currently taking called "Building Bridges of Asheville," which is a course with a focus on dismantling racism by fostering relationships that respect diversity, seek understanding and encourage action. Phew-- that's a lot to unpack in one session, in nine weeks, in a year, or even in a lifetime, what it means to "dismantle racism." Each week we have a different focus, from housing to criminal justice to white privilege, beginning by reviewing reading materials at home, gathering in a large group for a film or panel on the topic, then splitting into smaller groups to discuss reactions and thoughts from all of the above. The night that I referenced earlier, the topic was interpersonal, institutional, and structural racism. These topics are not easy to tackle, and I am very thankful for a space to have open conversations about race. Most spaces I've had conversations similar to the ones had in the sessions at Building Bridges, I've been surrounded by people who are a lot like me. Typically they're white, 20-somethings, usually decently liberal people, who come from very privileged backgrounds, and many from the same suburban areas in North Carolina. In this scenario at Building Bridges, I am being given the opportunity to process these important questions about race with people from many different backgrounds. This includes people of color, but also people from different regions and different generations and it really has opened me up to truly sitting and actively listening to people who have different opinions from me. Although everyone in the room did choose to sign-up for a nine week course on dismantling racism (which does mean they were at least somewhat interested in the topic), I've met much more opposition in my opinions than I ever thought I would in a space of people I assumed would be just like me. Most of this opposition I welcome. I constantly have to remind myself that these differing opinions, this open conversation, this is what these spaces are created for. Despite my constant reminder of how good it is to have a space like this, it doesn't stop my stomach from aching, and this isn't a metaphor. Quite literally, during these sessions, particularly in my small group, I am constantly hearing small churns of my stomach. I can feel myself sweating even in the room with the temperature set to 50 degrees. I constantly fiddle with the small tab on the back of my black boots because I feel the need to have my chaotic energy put somewhere while I'm listening to people talk. Now no one is saying anything overtly racist or ridiculously problematic, but different opinions and complex questions, even if working towards a common good goal of dismantling racism, leads to conflict. And conflict around this topic feels harder than others, and not just in a feeling in my brain, but in my body. In the very first chapter of our "Building Bridges" Manual an article was included by Margaret J Wheatley where we were asked to "honor our diversity by being willing to be disturbed." She says, "We need to welcome our willingness to have our beliefs and ideas challenged by what others think. No one person or perspective can give us the answers we need to the problems of today." To do this, we have to let go of our certainty, or the constant narrative we've been told that we have to figure out what is right and what is wrong. Especially in this season of political campaigning we are told we must either agree with a stance, or disagree with a stance, and there is rarely any room or patience for just listening to people who think differently from us. One of the ways I have found myself listening in these sessions, is noticing what happens in my body. The stomach cramp or the wandering eye, I have tried to take notice to when this is happening and then engage myself asking, "why is this happening?" I try tying that physical feeling to an emotion or a mental feelings. Am I angry? Am I sad? Am I frustrated? Am I curious? Noticing this exposes my beliefs as I'm listening to others and helps me challenge my own assumptions about others beliefs. As someone in my small group beautifully put it, "It's a gut check." A check to see how we are immediately viscerally responding to such difficult conversations. While there are many reflections I would love to share about my experience so far at Building Bridges, this one has been persistent, noticing what it feels like to build those bridges. And each session I feel like I'm exercising myself to be prepared to do this in spaces not built for being disturbed, in spaces that haven't been labeled a "brave space," but in the real life spaces that need this work the most. I want to be able to take the time and have the patience to check-in with myself. I want to be able to say, in that meeting, I could feel my shoulders tensing up, why? Did I feel that there were decisions being made without representation from those who are most impacted? Did I feel that there were voices in the room that were not being given the space to share their opinions? This feeling, this gut feeling, of questioning and challenging the norms that have been perpetuating systems of racism is the first step to analyzing where change can be made. I hope within these nine weeks I'll continue strengthening my ability to listen closely, to others, and to my own body, to begin the process of confusion and curiousness that will allow space for deeply needed collaborative change. I'll let the closing words of Wheatley have the final word on this one: As the world grows more strange and puzzling and difficult, I don’t believe most of us want to keep struggling through it alone, I can’t know what to do from my own narrow perspective. I know I need a better understanding of what’s going on. I want to sit down with you and talk about all the frightening and hopeful things I observe, and listen to what frightens you and gives you hope. I need new ideas and solutions for the problems I care about. I know I need to talk to you to discover those. I need to learn to value your perspective, and I want you to value mine. I expect to be disturbed by what I hear from you. I know we don’t have to agree with each other in order to think well together. There is no need for us to be joined at the head. We are joined by our human hearts. We are all joined by human hearts. To learn more about Building Bridges of Asheville visit www.bbavl.org
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