what do i say during a time like this?
I’ve been sitting here at my computer for a couple of hours, trying to decide what to write.
I have a whole list of blog posts lined up ready to be typed, edited, photos edited and posted for you to peruse. But to be honest, I don’t feel comfortable posting about art, or about my creative business. Does any of that even matter at the moment? I don’t feel comfortable continuing on posting and marketing my artwork this week as if everything was “normal”.
And the idea of normality is shifting.
“Normal” was when police brutality would go unpunished.
“Normal” was when a black man, women or child could be abused or even killed at the hands of police without consequence.
“Normal” was when people were more upset about a Target burning down than we were about a black man losing his life.
I don’t agree with that version of “normal”. It does not stand with my beliefs, nor the world I wish to live in.
But what could my voice say that wouldn’t be better said by someone else?
I’m just a white girl from Canada, I have no idea what oppression feels like.
I don’t know what it’s like to walk out my front door, not knowing if I’ll make it home that night.
If someone breaks into my house, I can call the police without the fear of them thinking I’m the intruder.
When the police pull me over yes I feel anxious, but never I’m never fearful for my life.
If I were to have sons, the hardest conversation I would have to have with them is about sex and drugs, not teaching them how to survive being pulled over by a police officer.
Nobody follows me through stores after I enter. Nobody calls the police when I hand them a $20 bill, thinking it’s a counterfeit to then be murdered on the street by a man who is supposed to protect me.
I can’t imagine living in that kind of fear, a fear of those who are supposed to protect us.
I am not racist, but I also know I am not colour blind.
“Aboriginal women and girls make up about 4 percent of the total female population of Canada but 16 percent of all female homicides, according to government statistics.” - The New York Times
I was raised in a community that openly dislikes and oppresses Native Americans.
My grandmother is Native American, and yet I hesitate to stand up for them, their rights, their culture. When jokes or comments are made at their expense I stay silent. I was taught to feel ashamed of that part of my heritage and blood lines, and that is simply unacceptable.
In Northern British Columbia, where I grew up, there is a highway called the “Highway of Tears” where dozens of Aboriginal women have been disappeared or have been murdered since 1970. Some estimate the number is closer to 50. And almost all of these cases remain unsolved. The police won’t do their job, assuming these girls died from suicide, drug overdose, accidents etc. It’s their fault, they were asking for it, they’re not worth the time, effort, or resources.
And yet, if I were to go missing on this highway? You can imagine a full manhunt, thousands of people showing up to search for me, posters on billboards, I would probably even make the news: “25 Year Old Woman Dissapears on Highway 16, Full Search and Rescue in Effect”
If you think for a moment that the blatant racism we’re seeing on the TV is solely based in America, I encourage you to look at your own backyard. Americans, Canadians, Australians, British, Belgians… The country doesn’t matter, racism is everywhere. How do we stop it? By looking inward.
I can’t change the world, but I can change myself
I can, and will, continue to learn how to better respect my neighbours.
I can, and will, use my voice to advocate for those who have been unheard.
I can, and will, lean into those moments when I feel uncomfortable and learn from them.
Why do I feel uncomfortable? What has been taught to me to make me feel this way? How can I change my thoughts, my words, my actions to better reflect the best person I believe myself to be?