From the 9/18/2020 newsletter
Student Perspective/Personal opinion
The Unsolvable Tension Behind Good Intentions: Confronting Sincerity and its Shadow
Jess Sachs, M3, explores the complex relationship between intentions and actions as she seeks to understand anti-racism and navigate her way toward being a consistent, effective ally.
Like many, I have become increasingly motivated to step up and advocate for justice and equity. Also, like many, I struggle to determine where I am most needed and how to strike the delicate balance between white savior and white ally. So, when advocating for Black lives became “trendy” again in May after the death of George Floyd, I decided to do what plenty of other people started doing, which is committing to learning about social justice and anti-racism work and then...posting about it online. Otherwise known as “performative allyship,” or “slacktivism” in colloquial terms, this trend is something that white people like myself have an embarrassing history of participating in—that is, temporarily caring, and engaging in the work of reading, listening to, and advocating for Black people until our own lives become too “important” to continue pursuing meaningful activism. Nevertheless, I was drawn into this engagement, but this time I committed to doing it “right.” This would not be another time loop, another performance of the same pieties we have played out time and time again. What I ultimately intended to learn about was the death of Breonna Taylor.
If you haven’t heard about Breonna Taylor, hers is the story of a Black woman losing her life to police brutality, a tragically common occurrence. Breonna was an EMT who was fatally shot by police officers attempting to serve a no-knock warrant on her home on March 13, 2020. (Brown & Duvall, 2020). The chronicle of her death is senseless, tragic, and heartbreaking. Why I became particularly attached to this specific tragedy, I am unsure. Perhaps it was because of the similarities between Breonna and me. We are the same age and working in the same professional field. Perhaps it was also because the case continues to evolve as new information leaks out - information that is often contradictory and confusing.
Regardless, her story has become a source of painful preoccupation. Much of my time is spent searching twitter and Instagram with the hashtags #Breonnataylor, #justiceforbreonnataylor, #breonnaslaw, in an effort to absorb and learn everything I can about her. I attend Zoom Call to Action meetings. I read stories written by her sister and her mother. I donate to the Louisiana Until Freedom organization. I aim to become an expert in her case, because for the sake of our humanity, I did not want this to be another example of futile action. I vowed that my involvement would be one of the many steps in the proper direction of acknowledging systemic racism and advocating for justice.
Recently, however, I read an article exploring how Breonna Taylor’s trending name has gone from a call to action to an oversimplified meme. Zeba Blay, the author of the piece writes, “Turning Breonna Taylor into a meme, then, risks turning the conversation around what justice looks like for her into a temporary fad.” This was my biggest fear. By reading and posting everyday, perhaps her story and her name were ultimately losing meaning. I questioned if I was becoming desensitized to the true goal of this work and blindly following a fashionable fad that looked like, but had nothing to do with, justice. This was never my intention, I kept thinking. And herein lies the complexity and confusion with our intentions. Below the surface of our rational minds lies a traffic intersection of contradictions, within which we ask this question: Is what we do substantive or simply another manifestation of our hopeless hypocrisy? Were my efforts simply designed to temporarily absolve my own white guilt? Was this true allyship, and is that even the goal?
The answer to these questions? I still don’t know. What I do know is that my intentional actions to dismantle white supremacy will never be enough. What I do know is that my unintentional actions have maintained a culture of oppression and racism. Our personal truth is always far amore complicated than it seems, and reflection is necessary as we confront these feelings of guilt, discomfort, and confusion. But we continue to commit to meaningful causes, even if our motivation remains imperfect and clumsily emerges from a welter of conflicting impulses. It is of little value to attempt to fully reconcile our own emotions and intent after 400 years of unreconcilable damage done to Black people. Writer Tre Johnson says it best when he comments, “The confusing, perhaps contradictory advice on what white people should do probably feels maddening. To be told to step up, no step back, read, no listen, protest, don’t protest, check on black friends, leave us alone, ask for help or do the work — it probably feels contradictory at times. And yet, you’ll figure it out. Black people have been similarly exhausted making the case for jobs, freedom, happiness, justice, equality and the like. It’s made us dizzy, but we’ve managed to find the means to walk straight.” My ncertainty regarding the best pathway to follow in the direction of social justice is of little importance when compared with the uncertainty of not knowing whether calling the police will end in your safety or in your murder. Thinking critically and listening to those who have been doing this work for decades and centuries is indeed necessary when it comes to broadening and deepening the conversation about how to best move our nation towards a more just and equitable society.
I wouldn’t be my father’s daughter if I didn’t mention a Jewish tale that comes to mind as I write this. Once, a wealthy disciple came to the Alter Rabbi, R. Schneur Zalman of Liadi, and said that he had been contemplating opening an orphanage, but had since abandoned the idea. Having mulled over the project, he came to the conclusion that he was only doing it to gain more respect in his community. The Rabbi lifted his eyes and told him firmly to go ahead with the orphanage, reasoning that, “While perhaps you may not mean this sincerely, the poor young orphans who will eat hot meals and sleep in comfortable beds will certainly do so sincerely.” The Rabbi understands that his disciple’s motivations are not entirely “pure”, yet the Rabbi also understands that there is still value to motivations that have a higher purpose even if they are partially spurred by energy that is not entirely rooted in ethical rectitude. Moral aimmaculacy is not a pre-requisite for moral action. Good intentions will not solve the problems of systemic racism and police brutality. Regardless, we commit to action because our lives depend on it and because we must take on the issue of racism as our own. As I continue to reflect on my efforts to pursue this particular summons to action, one point has never shifted-- Breonna’s Taylor life mattered. While it might take more time for all the facts surrounding her death to be revealed, it is an honor to learn her story, and with every action that I take, be it right or wrong, intentional or unintentional, I refuse to let her name and her story be forgotten.
References:
Brown, M., & Duvall, T. (2020, June 30). Fact check: Louisville Police had a 'no-knock' warrant for Breonna Taylor's apartment. Retrieved September 16, 2020, from https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/factcheck/2020/06/30/fact-check-police-had-no- knock-warrant-breonna-taylor-apartment/3235029001/
Student Perspective/Personal opinion
The Unsolvable Tension Behind Good Intentions: Confronting Sincerity and its Shadow
Jess Sachs, M3, explores the complex relationship between intentions and actions as she seeks to understand anti-racism and navigate her way toward being a consistent, effective ally.
Like many, I have become increasingly motivated to step up and advocate for justice and equity. Also, like many, I struggle to determine where I am most needed and how to strike the delicate balance between white savior and white ally. So, when advocating for Black lives became “trendy” again in May after the death of George Floyd, I decided to do what plenty of other people started doing, which is committing to learning about social justice and anti-racism work and then...posting about it online. Otherwise known as “performative allyship,” or “slacktivism” in colloquial terms, this trend is something that white people like myself have an embarrassing history of participating in—that is, temporarily caring, and engaging in the work of reading, listening to, and advocating for Black people until our own lives become too “important” to continue pursuing meaningful activism. Nevertheless, I was drawn into this engagement, but this time I committed to doing it “right.” This would not be another time loop, another performance of the same pieties we have played out time and time again. What I ultimately intended to learn about was the death of Breonna Taylor.
If you haven’t heard about Breonna Taylor, hers is the story of a Black woman losing her life to police brutality, a tragically common occurrence. Breonna was an EMT who was fatally shot by police officers attempting to serve a no-knock warrant on her home on March 13, 2020. (Brown & Duvall, 2020). The chronicle of her death is senseless, tragic, and heartbreaking. Why I became particularly attached to this specific tragedy, I am unsure. Perhaps it was because of the similarities between Breonna and me. We are the same age and working in the same professional field. Perhaps it was also because the case continues to evolve as new information leaks out - information that is often contradictory and confusing.
Regardless, her story has become a source of painful preoccupation. Much of my time is spent searching twitter and Instagram with the hashtags #Breonnataylor, #justiceforbreonnataylor, #breonnaslaw, in an effort to absorb and learn everything I can about her. I attend Zoom Call to Action meetings. I read stories written by her sister and her mother. I donate to the Louisiana Until Freedom organization. I aim to become an expert in her case, because for the sake of our humanity, I did not want this to be another example of futile action. I vowed that my involvement would be one of the many steps in the proper direction of acknowledging systemic racism and advocating for justice.
Recently, however, I read an article exploring how Breonna Taylor’s trending name has gone from a call to action to an oversimplified meme. Zeba Blay, the author of the piece writes, “Turning Breonna Taylor into a meme, then, risks turning the conversation around what justice looks like for her into a temporary fad.” This was my biggest fear. By reading and posting everyday, perhaps her story and her name were ultimately losing meaning. I questioned if I was becoming desensitized to the true goal of this work and blindly following a fashionable fad that looked like, but had nothing to do with, justice. This was never my intention, I kept thinking. And herein lies the complexity and confusion with our intentions. Below the surface of our rational minds lies a traffic intersection of contradictions, within which we ask this question: Is what we do substantive or simply another manifestation of our hopeless hypocrisy? Were my efforts simply designed to temporarily absolve my own white guilt? Was this true allyship, and is that even the goal?
The answer to these questions? I still don’t know. What I do know is that my intentional actions to dismantle white supremacy will never be enough. What I do know is that my unintentional actions have maintained a culture of oppression and racism. Our personal truth is always far amore complicated than it seems, and reflection is necessary as we confront these feelings of guilt, discomfort, and confusion. But we continue to commit to meaningful causes, even if our motivation remains imperfect and clumsily emerges from a welter of conflicting impulses. It is of little value to attempt to fully reconcile our own emotions and intent after 400 years of unreconcilable damage done to Black people. Writer Tre Johnson says it best when he comments, “The confusing, perhaps contradictory advice on what white people should do probably feels maddening. To be told to step up, no step back, read, no listen, protest, don’t protest, check on black friends, leave us alone, ask for help or do the work — it probably feels contradictory at times. And yet, you’ll figure it out. Black people have been similarly exhausted making the case for jobs, freedom, happiness, justice, equality and the like. It’s made us dizzy, but we’ve managed to find the means to walk straight.” My ncertainty regarding the best pathway to follow in the direction of social justice is of little importance when compared with the uncertainty of not knowing whether calling the police will end in your safety or in your murder. Thinking critically and listening to those who have been doing this work for decades and centuries is indeed necessary when it comes to broadening and deepening the conversation about how to best move our nation towards a more just and equitable society.
I wouldn’t be my father’s daughter if I didn’t mention a Jewish tale that comes to mind as I write this. Once, a wealthy disciple came to the Alter Rabbi, R. Schneur Zalman of Liadi, and said that he had been contemplating opening an orphanage, but had since abandoned the idea. Having mulled over the project, he came to the conclusion that he was only doing it to gain more respect in his community. The Rabbi lifted his eyes and told him firmly to go ahead with the orphanage, reasoning that, “While perhaps you may not mean this sincerely, the poor young orphans who will eat hot meals and sleep in comfortable beds will certainly do so sincerely.” The Rabbi understands that his disciple’s motivations are not entirely “pure”, yet the Rabbi also understands that there is still value to motivations that have a higher purpose even if they are partially spurred by energy that is not entirely rooted in ethical rectitude. Moral aimmaculacy is not a pre-requisite for moral action. Good intentions will not solve the problems of systemic racism and police brutality. Regardless, we commit to action because our lives depend on it and because we must take on the issue of racism as our own. As I continue to reflect on my efforts to pursue this particular summons to action, one point has never shifted-- Breonna’s Taylor life mattered. While it might take more time for all the facts surrounding her death to be revealed, it is an honor to learn her story, and with every action that I take, be it right or wrong, intentional or unintentional, I refuse to let her name and her story be forgotten.
References:
Brown, M., & Duvall, T. (2020, June 30). Fact check: Louisville Police had a 'no-knock' warrant for Breonna Taylor's apartment. Retrieved September 16, 2020, from https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/factcheck/2020/06/30/fact-check-police-had-no- knock-warrant-breonna-taylor-apartment/3235029001/
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