This Is Us
The Price of Being Pleasing
Notes on a lifetime of performing Black harmlessness
A lot of words have been spilled lately about white guilt and shame, but white people aren’t the only ones feeling it. During a recent lunch, one of my favorite former students informed me that, in the last month, he’d attended five official and two unofficial Black Lives Matters protests. I couldn’t have been prouder of him — but I also felt deeply ashamed of myself, and my lack of activism.
For the past three years, I’ve taken my students — most of whom are white — to San Quentin prison, taught them about racial inequity, smiled with pride as they marched into the streets, the college classroom, and the voting booth ready to campaign for equality, giving myself a pat on the back for a job well done. That fateful lunch demonstrated to me what a coward I’ve been. Yes, I teach my teenage students well and equip them with the tools to fight for a more just tomorrow. But I am also hiding behind them, letting them say what I have been too fearful to march in the streets and say for myself.
The first hoodie I owned had my Ivy League college’s name emblazoned on it. That hoodie was acceptable, because it was proof that I was exceptional.
