She also needs coffee, ice cream, alcohol, cheese and charcuterie boards, salty french fries, sweet fruit, chocolate…you get the idea. Making sourdough bread during quarantine has been a fun project, a way to create something of comfort, and a way to share the product of my labor with those I care about.
I hope you enjoy this video! And hit me up for a fresh loaf, or some starter of your own to make it yourself!
xxo
I listened to an episode of the podcast Code Switch titled “Can We Talk About Whiteness” on my morning walk today. This episode was hosted and facilitated by Shereen Marisol Meraji and Gene Demby. In the beginning of the episode, Gene points out that we’re not used to talking about White people directly as their own identity group. This is something I’ve reflected on in recent years, especially in my first year of my counselor education graduate program, when trying to define my own identity, and the culture in which I grew up in. I rarely identify as White. In reflecting on my childhood, I came to the conclusion that my culture was Evangelical Christianity, since it played such a huge part in my development as a child and adolescent. But even that feels like a bit of a stretch.
I remember feeling jealous of people who, in my eyes, had a more obvious culture, like Latinx, African American, Asian, etc. I wished I had the specific foods, rituals, holidays, celebrations, etc., that I saw in people of color. Shereen then goes on to point out that when you hear terms like Soccer Mom, Middle Americans, or NASCAR Dad, you automatically think of or visualize in your head a White person. Because White people have always been the majority in which I grew up, it simply became the default archetype for me.
One of their guests, Catherine Orr, a professor at Beloit College in Wisconsin, teaches a course called “Whiteness.” She said that when you are White, race is often seen as what other people have. This was clearly my perspective and assumption until recently. Being a feminist and beginning to unpack the ways White feminists oppressed women of color, Catherine’s statement that “women have an investment in innocence” struck me. She goes on to say that her White, female students are typically liberal and talk about social justice. It’s almost as if they think, If I do the work and take her class on Whiteness, then I’ll be one of the good ones. Catherine calls this a “racial alibi.” Wow. That was poignant for me. I will be thinking about that and my own work for a very long time.
I highly suggest listening to this podcast episode. And I’ll keep doing the work, too.
xxo
Here are the things I’ve been absorbing this week to better educate myself of people of color (POC), and Black lives in particular:
13th - This documentary on Netflix is about how America transitioned from slavery to prisons for Black people. I have learned over the last year or so that our prison systems in America are incredibly overcrowded. But this film showed how they came to be that way. One of the things I appreciated about the film is the information regarding policy, laws and other acts that previous presidents put into place regarding policing and our prison systems. It also brought to light for me the disgusting words and beliefs of our current president when it comes to prison reform and POC.
See You Yesterday - I’m embarrassed to say I’ve had this movie in my Netflix queue for several months, but it took the events of the last two weeks to get me to sit down and watch it. I thought it was a great film, showing the culture and colors of Brooklyn and the Black community. Eden Duncan-Smith kills it as the lead of this movie, which appears at first to simply look at time-travel, but grows into a story about racial injustice, mistaken identity, and the prejudices toward and shootings of Black people by police.
I watched this episode of Last Week Tonight with John Oliver and found it very educational. My initial reaction to “defund the police” was opposition and fear. I know there are good cops and bad cops. But I also have only ever felt like police were there to protect me. I’ll never understand the fear and anxiety in knowing you will be stereotyped (and so much worse) because of the color of your skin. As a counselor in training, I’m seeing the urgent need for more funding for social causes like housing, drug rehabilitation, family services, and others. We cannot expect police, who do not have the appropriate training, to fix these issues.
I’ve got a couple books on order from Amazon, so much more to come!
xxo
This past week has been emotionally charged, to say the least. My head has been spinning, my heart has been hurting, my pride and my ego have been hit. I am typing each word and sentence of this post second guessing myself, not wanting it to sound like I’m making it about me, but also being afraid that my silence is allowing people to assume that I am ignorant or racist.
But that’s the thing: I am admittedly ignorant to much of what goes on in the world around me, whether it be about politics, global warming, or racial injustices. And much of that ignorance is by choice. It’s scary to look at the world around you and pay attention to the divisiveness, to the systemic racism and oppression, to the ugly ways in which we treat each other. What I am learning, though, is that I cannot keep my head in the sand any longer.
I am learning from the women and men who are using their voices and their platforms, no matter the size or scope, to speak truth and to shed light on injustice.
In my head I kept going back and forth between posting to social media or not. I’ve been reflecting on my own privilege, on my initial reactions including denial and self preservation, of my own White fragility…After watching Olivia’s IGTV post, I’m encouraged to speak out, imperfect as it may be. Thank you for the encouragement, Olivia.
Part of my rationalization for not posting was not wanting to just repost something thousands of others are posting. It felt bandwagon-y, and like it wasn’t authentic. Things move so quickly in today’s day and age. There is so much information out there, that it’s difficult to sift through it to make sure that what you’re reposting is a true and full reflection of who you are and the message you want to promote, while also being timely with your post. I want to be someone who is posting about racial justice not just in the heat of the moment with the current protests and rallies, but beyond that when other headlines takes over the news.
I’ve also rationalized, now is not the time for me to speak up and use my voice. Now is the time for people of color to be heard. But I am learning there is a difference between stepping back in silence, and staying present in solidarity. I am fearful of saying the wrong thing, or of it coming off as being false or trendy to repost something. I am someone who spends a lot of time in her head, turning inward; it takes me a long time to reflect on my thoughts and feelings and to figure out how to articulate them. And while I want to be patient with myself and mindful of what I am feeling, thinking, and saying, I’m also recognizing the need to show up as an ally and advocate. I don’t need the right words to show others I believe in human rights, equity, and dignity.
When I started to read the words and hear the experiences of the students that I work with, my heart was breaking and it woke me up. I could say that I’m sorry it took hearing their experiences to get me fired up, but I think we each get that lightning bolt in different ways. My heart has always been for young women and helping them grow up to feel safe and secure in their own bodies. And although I have been in this work and research for several years now, there is always something to learn, the climate and culture is constantly changing. They are my reason to speak up. They are my reason to engage, to educate myself, to reflect on my own biases and beliefs. I want to be seen as an ally to POC, and I want to be seen as an example of someone who does the work, no matter how ugly or scary it is, to White people who are also struggling to do the work and stand for and with those they care about.
In one sense I am grateful for the quarantine, as it has given me more time to read, write, take photographs, and learn. I want to commit myself to learning more this summer (and beyond) about the Black Lives Matter movement, more about my already present interest in feminist and LGBTQ+ rights and movements and work, and to then share those things I’ve learned in a bold and brave way that I haven’t before. I am learning. I am a work in progress, and I want to do better.
One thing I’ve come to enjoy about quarantine is my new morning routine. Most mornings I still wake up around 6:15am, as if I were waking up to get ready to go into work. Sometimes I am able to roll over and sleep in until closer to 8am when my work-from-home day begins. But even if I’m up and alert at 6:30am, at least it’s my own body waking me up and not an alarm clock.
In fact, I like waking up earlier, because mornings are now my favorite time of the day. Everything is still quiet, both in my apartment and outside my windows. I have always loved my morning coffee ritual, but it’s even more important these days. Lately, if I’m up early enough before I need to start working, I’ll watch an episode of Hulu’s Normal People (highly recommend this series. The cinematography is brilliant and gorgeous. It reminds me a lot of how The Handmaid’s Tale is shot).
And even though this week we’ve had cooler weather, I’m still getting out in the mornings for a walk, either around the neighborhood or a local park. Granted, being productive in the mornings does tend to make the rest of the day go by pretty slowly, especially in a time like this when you can’t go out to the gym, or to a coffee shop, restaurant/bar later on in the day. But that’s why naps are also so delicious during this time of quarantine.
