Be racially vulnerable!

This last week working at Wesley Rankin Community Center, I met some pretty inspiring activists. One such activist was Agustin. I was stationed in his office most of the week, typing up some curriculum ideas for youth. As I typed, I saw how the community responded to Augie - they love him! On Wednesday, Augie and 2 other women joined my table for a lunch pow-wow, a spontaneous gathering where we talked of religion, war, studying in India, and then Augie and 1 woman broke out dancing. On my last day, Friday, I sat with Augie to share some resources I had. When I finished, Augie shared with me the powerful and empowering work that is happening among a leadership group of adults he works with. It was after he shared this, I told him of an experience I had, feeling vulnerable and out of place as a young white female teaching Latino parents about teaching their kids. Augie lit up and asked if he could share a documentary with me.

We watched a painful history about the Carlisle boarding schools, where white men brought Indian children to turn them white. The documentary made me so sad, and my skim prickled with the knowledge of my whiteness. Augie turned off the movie and said "the intention was good, but the method was wrong." I shared with Augie my identity struggles. I am white, a mix of a dozen nationalities. In a Mexican studies class in college, I craved the pride and solidarity present in every atom of my Chicano classmates. One boy began defining his identity, and I asked him if he defined himself American. He blew up! His face contorted in disgust, he spoke with such hatred of Americans. And in that moment I felt my identity shattered. As a mixed person born in the US, that was all I felt I had. That was who I was.

As I told this to Augie, I cried. He honored my tears, and hugged me, and his solidarity with me calmed me. He told me about himself as a young activist, and how the anger and pain from ancestors is what can fuel you in the beginning. I told him about my struggle of wanting to help communities, but not being sure if I can because of my skin. And he told me exactly what I know, but needed to hear out loud from someone like Augie, "Courtney, let me tell you a secret. It doesn't matter if you are white. It matters if you listen. Don't come into communities and teach what you think they need, listen to them and be part of it. Let them guide you." Profound, true words. We spoke more and he nurtured the timid activist inside my soul. Neither of us planned the conversation that happened. But both of us celebrated in it! It was powerful and beautiful and vulnerable. Thank you Augie! Cheers to a new friendship, and remembering the importance of being racially vulnerable.