Photo by Mathew Schwartz on Unsplash
Today I want to share two things that have had a powerful impact on me lately.
Whether it’s due to the pandemic or some other combination of factors, the response around the country to the most recent race-based killings and confrontations has been unexpectedly resonant in its reach and breadth. As an aptly titled episode of the CodeSwitch podcast asked, “Why now, white people?”
Like many other white people in America, I am humbled by what I have failed to recognize, soul-searching about how to listen better, and taking up activism efforts that are available to me right now. I am grateful for the generosity of the many Black and other people of color who have shared their stories and insights around racism over the past couple of months.
One such story that deepened my understanding comes from Michele Norris, talking on NPR about her grandmother, who worked as a traveling “Aunt Jemima” at pancake breakfasts in the Midwest. In explaining why her grandmother had never talked to her about this part of her life, she said,
“It was such a difficult life to love a country that doesn't love you back.”
The anguish captured in that one matter-of-fact line is staggering.
Amid the life and death intensity of both racism and the coronavirus pandemic, I have found solace in this quote from Oriah Mountain Dreamer, The Invitation:
“I can stay awake and let the sorrows of the world tear me apart and then allow the
joys to put me back together, different from before but whole once again.”
This is a time of raw truths and struggle. The path of resilience means staying open, as best we can, to the full range of what our world offers. In my work with nonprofit organizations and iNGOs, I’m seeing a lot of creativity as we engage in scenario planning and rethinking the future.
I’ll be talking more about resilience in the nonprofit world in future blogs. For now, I’m going back to listening.