The Little Book of Racial Healing

Kimberly James, author of Finding My Brave Space: A Black Girl’s Tale of Wanderlust, participated in a three-day workshop we co-facilitated in 2017, in which we shared the approach outlined in these pages. Several months after the workshop, she flew to Ghana. On her Facebook page, she wrote how she loved being among all the black folks on the plane from London to Accra. She was inspired to write the following. She called it rough and unpolished. We found it inspiring and perfect for this closing chapter.

the Point. the Center. the Norm.

It feels good to be here

On this plane filled with black people of all shades, hair textures and styles.

People speaking different languages.

Filling economy, business, first class.

Friends

Families and couples

Kids

laughing, working, reading, sleeping. Being.

the Point. the Center. the Norm.

My heart swells with joy because it is not often that I am

the Point. the Center. the Norm.

If you’re white in America, in much of the world, really, you’re used to being

the Point. the Center. the Norm.

What was it like to grow up being

the Point. the Center. the Norm?

To not be the only one on your street or in your class?

To not have teachers equate your skin tone with the lack of intelligence?

To not feel the sizzle of a hot comb or the burn of chemicals so your hair could meet a standard of beauty?

To not have rules that won’t allow you to wear your hair the way it naturally grows out of your head?

To have the powers that be say banning locs and braids is not against the law because they go against

the Point. the Center. the Norm.

To not be regarded as dangerous, criminal, angry?

But don’t we have the right to be Angry?

Look how quickly you get angry when you’re asked to make space for others in

the Point. the Center. the Norm.

Cries of:

All lives matter.

Reverse racism.

Make.

America.

Great.

Again.

When was it great for me?

When black people were held in bondage and sold like property?

When Jim Crow ruled the land, terrorized families and strange fruit hung from a tree?

When separate was anything but equal and we needed a Green Book to travel safely?

When Police brutalize Black bodies at will and then get acquitted?

When standing up for your rights gets you hosed, fired, assassinated?

When we’re told that it’s not the right time to speak out against injustice. It’s not the right way or the right time?

the Point. the Center. the Norm.

If you’re black in America, and much of the world, really. It’s an unfamiliar place.

You’re used to being located outside of

the Point. the Center. the Norm.

Your skin tone and hair judged by a standard that doesn’t fit you.

The way you speak and move through the world degraded, mocked, villainized because it does not originate from

the Point. the Center. the Norm.

How was it decided?

the Point. the Center. the Norm.

Who said one way was THE way?

the Point. the Center. the Norm.

I see now

the threat of having

the Point. the Center. the Norm

challenged.

It’s a powerful position to be in.

It’s comfortable

It’s safe

It’s privileged

I like being

the Point. the Center. the Norm.

Many people ask me, why Africa?

I could talk about the variety of cultures, nature or the historic sites, but I have a simple answer.

For a little while I get to breathe free and be

the Point.

the Center.

the Norm.

Kimberly’s observations are what we hope this little book inspires all of us to build toward through our healing work. She and Tom first met in 2001 on the Rhode Island set for the filming of the documentary Traces of the Trade: A Story from the Deep North. He was one of the family members featured in the film. She was one of a group of people who volunteered to participate one weekend in conversations about the issues that emerged during the journey the family took to retrace the triangle slave trade route of their ancestors.

At one point in the film, Juanita Browne, one of the producers and also a woman of color, sat in circle, in a hotel room in Ghana, with the family of ten white descendants of slave traders as they attempted to navigate their way toward a better understanding of contemporary race relations. When asked for her impressions of what the family was doing, she expressed her anger at white people for their cowardice and their choice to give up their integrity and humanity for so long:

Knowing what has happened to my people; it’s ridiculous! If you grew up where I grew up, you’d be pissed off! Anybody who is alive, or who is paying attention, should be pissed off. The fact that white people are not pissed off means they’re not paying attention.

And it’s helpful for me. The reason why I’m doing this is because it’s important for me that white people take responsibility. Ultimately, it’s about human liberation. And also, it’s about liberation of my people. It’s about liberation of you guys. That’s the truth.1

Two women of color. Two journeys to Ghana, sixteen years apart. Strikingly similar messages.

I sat in that circle in Ghana, in July 2001, with Juanita and my cousins. I have watched this exchange between Juanita and Elly (and the rest of us) at screenings of the film probably one hundred times over the years. It is one of the key messages from the film and one of the key messages I hope people take away from this book: It is important that white people take responsibility because it is about liberation. It is about the liberation of all of us.

As a white man, I am grateful to have learned of my connection to racism, the legacy and aftermath of slavery, white supremacy, and the present-day impacts of all of it. And no, this connection has very little to do with being related to slave traders. It has to do with “whiteness” itself and the fact that, long ago, people who saw themselves as white and superior (the Point. the Center. the Norm.) created this thing we know as racism to benefit themselves, their families, and their descendants. They did so at the expense of black people and other people of color, who white people determined were inferior. It is money and power that lead to separation, brokenness, trauma, and fear. Most important, and oddly bewildering, is that it seems that white people know the least about whiteness and its impacts.

I have no interest in making white people feel guilty or ashamed about the past or the present. Guilt just leads to building walls of self-protection and separation. No, my interest is in inspiring white people to understand and embrace what Rev. Dr. King wrote in his “Letter from a Birmingham Jail”: “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.” Understanding that we are all in this journey together—truly and profoundly interconnected—in an inescapable network of mutuality is a critical step in racial healing.

Another step, a most crucial step necessary to begin racial healing, is for white people to scrutinize and understand whiteness and to acknowledge and own our role in the perpetuation and dismantling of racism.

If you are white and feeling uncomfortable, that is okay. This work is often uncomfortable. If you find yourself feeling defensive and argumentative, or guilty and ashamed, please stop. Remember Chapter 2? That’s your emotional brain kicking in. Engage your rational brain and explore your whiteness. Do your homework. Talk with other white people who also want to learn about this stuff and change. Understand that you are going to make mistakes and say the wrong thing sometimes. Own that, as well. Apologize and change your thoughts, words, and behavior. Speak out against injustice. Teach your children. Be the change.

In these challenging days, when white supremacists are emboldened by the words and example of a US president to create more racial havoc, it is more important than ever for white people to stand up, speak out, and take action for racial justice and healing, dismantle racist systems and structures, and work toward transformation and liberation for everyone. Use the advantages whiteness affords you to make a positive difference.

I do not have any profound words of wisdom for black people and other people of color. I have my experiences and I am on this journey to liberation and transformation with you. When your heart breaks, there’s an echo in the hollow of mine. In the past, liberation and the process of freedom, in my mind, had always been interconnected with changing systems. While I asked for justice through policy change and advocated for restorative justice with a racial justice lens, I was also asking to be free. It felt like a destination, rather than a journey of breaking internalized and external chains. I had given up my power in some aspects, so that my liberation became about tearing down walls and bars that cage young people, queer people, black people, and others who did not fit into some box or master narrative. While structures of institutional and economic injustice continue to perpetuate harm, it is not my work alone to rinse the blood of colonization off my back while it runs down my face.

It was not until a conversation with a college mentor that I realized what was possible. Jada and I sat in a hotel room reconnecting and laughing about my undergrad days and journey to Oakland, California. We dreamed together of our desires during this time of deep hope and deep despair across this nation. Without much thought I said, “I’m trying to get free.” She responded, “Aren’t you free? I feel free.” I paused. My temple throbbed. I did not have an answer. I do not ever remember anyone asking me this question before. Her words have stayed with me.

I remember being so angry as a young organizer. With every protest, action, and meeting that feeling grew into despair and was sometimes counterproductive to my well-being. I had internalized the racist beliefs and thoughts white supremacy taught me. The ideas were often about my beauty, intelligence, and right to live in a dignified way. I sometimes thought I wasn’t deserving of freedom. I realized that I was trying to convince non-black people that we mattered, and I was more than the color of my skin. I needed to begin defining myself for myself. Blackness is expansive. It doesn’t begin and end with slavery. I am much more than the generational harm of white supremacy and colonization.

“We are wired to be caring for the other and generous to one another. We shrivel when we are not able to interact. I mean that is part of the reason why solitary confinement is such a horrendous punishment. We depend on the other in order for us to be fully who we are. I didn’t know that I was going to come so soon to the concept that we have at home, the concept of Ubuntu. It says: A person is a person through other persons.”2

Transformation and liberation are about remembrance. We begin to reclaim our humanity when we remember our interconnectedness and share with each other. We trust you will find the metaphor of coming to the table and sharing meals together and following and modifying recipes useful. We are all hungry. Once we commit to coming to the table together, we gather the ingredients, follow the recipe, and make the food. The joy is in eating and in sharing the meal. In this case, the table serves as a center, which grounds all that is heavy and all that is light. Let us eat with our hands because it provides an intimate and direct connection with our meal that we cannot get with a knife and fork. Indeed, newborns first receive nourishment through direct connection with their mothers. Then, when they begin to eat solid food, they do so with their hands. Then the world intrudes, and we teach them to use spoons and forks, just as we were taught. But our hands provide direct connection. Feel that taco? That sandwich? Similarly, our hands are the utensils we need to reach out and hold one another—and, realistically, to sometimes let go. There is no shame in getting dirty. There is no judgment for seeking another serving. There is enough for each of us. There is more, for all of us. This is exactly what we need.

Following this chapter is a section of recommended reading; that is, more ingredients in the recipes for circles, restorative justice, trauma awareness, history, connection, healing, and action. Help us create a new meal by continuing your journey of learning, truth-telling, liberation, and transformation.

Racial healing is heart and soul work; your heart and soul work. The only person you can truly change is yourself. So know yourself and be committed to learning, without harming. As you work with others, do so mindfully and with care. We need to stay at the table together to transform together. Coming to the table is the easy part. Staying at the table is the hard part; make the commitment to stay when things get hard. Racial healing—and, by extension, healing all forms of oppression and injustice—is about transforming our thoughts, beliefs, emotions, and instincts so that our sole/soul focus is on transforming and liberating ourselves, our communities, our systems, and our world.