An Anti-Racist Letter to My Inner-Child
Hi. Bronwyn here. How’s it going? You overwhelmed? It’s been quite a whirlwind of “come to Jesus” talks over here as we experience and witness a massive movement towards equity in this country. Toni and I are really looking at ourselves, our company, and how we show up in the world as white privileged women. We see a lot of work that needs to be done and are ready to face it with vulnerability and openness (as we know these types of conversations with ourselves and others are MESSY). We’ve been struggling with what to say and offer in a blog (as white privileged women) and decided that an intimate look at our own history with white privilege could be a good start—going back to our younger roots. This feels very important and relevant as Toni and I both have daughters. And we are VERY AWARE of our role in making sure they are aware of their own privilege and are able to use it to make sure others feel seen, heard, and safe in a country that was built on white supremacy. If this blog makes you feel uncomfortable, we ask you to lean in and get curious about “why?” It’s time we all look inside and invest in the work of unpacking how we explicitly, or complicity, have participated and benefited from our white privilege (at the expense of others) in this country. So here we go! A letter written to a younger Bronwyn (between the ages of 7 & 25—quite the wide age gap I know).
Dear Bronwyn,
Look at you. Your messy hair and innocent eyes. You surely see your life in front of you as full of opportunity. I see how people applaud your sense of humor and get curious about why you’re wearing one pink sock and one green—that type of self-expression is always welcome. And that is a beautiful thing.
But although this small rural town you grew up in has a lot of love to give, it has not offered you much space to understand difference. Look around you little one. Do your friends, family, teachers, people in your books and on TV all look like you? They do? What color is their skin? Isn’t it a bit strange that there aren’t people with brown or black skin? How would you feel if everyone around you had a different color of skin? The color of our skin deeply effects how other people see us. For instance, because of the color of your skin, you won’t be nervously followed in a clothing store by an attendant—worried you may steal something. When you get your driver’s license, and if you were to be pulled over by a police officer, you don’t have to intentionally worry about where your hands are resting or if you are safe. Your mom never had to have a conversation with you about the color of your skin, and how it may impact the way people interact with you or judge you. Our friends who are Black have to worry about these things. They don’t feel safe like you do in the grocery store or at a birthday party. And sweet darling, our Black friends are so much more than the color of their skin and should be able to do the things you get to experience and do, without fear.
And I know what’s going on for you when I share this with you…you’re worried that you’re in trouble. But that’s not our focus my sweet empathizer, this does not make you a bad person. I know you would not consider yourself racist and you have the evidence to prove it. I know that YOU KNOW certain slang words are not to be used when describing someone skin tone or background. I know that when others have used these words, you feel sheepish and uncomfortable. And I’m glad you don’t want to spill hate from your lips and join in on this banter. AND you have so much strength within you to make sure that your silence is not supporting their hate. You can say something. You know what it like to be bullied for things you can’t control. Remember how good it felt when people defended and supported you? What about the times people just stood by and let it happen? That was yucky right? So, what if we were able to be that person for someone else? For instance, …
I know it was rare to see or interact with difference in the small town you grew up in, but it was there. So, if you see someone getting picked on for the color of their skin, you can say something and protect that person. It’s not okay for kids to target others because of what their skin looks like.
Ask your teachers about race. Ask them where the Black and Brown folx are in your history books and TV shows.
Do you know about the enslavement of people, how our country benefited from their enslavement, or the liberation of Juneteenth? Let’s do a bit of learning. Check out a book from your tiny local library and teach a friend what you learned.
Ask your parents, sister, and friends where they buy their clothes. Some brands are known for being outright racist, and they don’t deserve your money.
You’re so smart. You have a powerful voice! What if you and I were to take that intelligence and write a letter to your local/state/federal government asking them what they are doing to support your Black friends in receiving the same gifts/experiences you have.
Future opportunities will arise, and remember you always have a choice. Your goal doesn’t have to be “I need to be liked.” Sometimes your goal needs to be bigger than you.
Like remember that time you participated in the Vagina Monologues in college, and your acting troupe got a lot of flack for not having any racial representation (other than white)? The ladies in your troupe got real annoyed that Eve Ensler (the playwright) was being so critical. Just remember that you have a choice in whether you participate in that banter, silence your voice entirely (out of discomfort), or say something unpopular but necessary. You don’t need to help them come up with all the excuses as to why the troupe is so white. You can engage that brilliant mind of yours and try some critical thinking and lend a voice to the underrepresented: what could we do to attract a more diverse crew? How can we create a safe space for Black folx or folx of color in our troupe?
Another space to exercise your voice is within your friend circles. You love making new friends. You’ve always been the gal with 100 friends. But maybe it’s time to look at the common trends of those friends. They’re fabulous, intelligent, fun, hilarious, and very white. I know you value being a safe place for anyone who may need it, so just know that that starts by looking at yourself and examining what expectations YOU have for a friendship. You don’t need to go out and “gather” Black friends. You need to take a look on how you show up in different spaces. Are you closed off when spending time with people who don’t look like you? Do you stare/gawk at difference? Do you engage with difference by making comments about that young Black woman’s hair or skin tone? Although these are well-intentioned gestures to connect, these gestures make a young person feel like an exhibit, not a human. And that does not create a safe space for connection. Come back to your personal values: connection is one of them. How can you lead with that?
Bronwyn, this is tough work and you are fully capable. When you look in the mirror, what do you see? I see a bright, intelligent, goofy, curious, and joyful young person. She has hope in her gaze and determination in her walk. Don’t you believe that all children deserve to feel this way? I know you do. You care. You care a lot. So, I just ask that as you grow, to notice your successes and awards with the awareness of the extra cushion you’re given because of the way you look. This world was built for you, and sadly at the cost of others’. So, don’t take advantage of it, use it to uplift those whose voices have been dampened just because of the color of their skin. Be the change. Lean into the mess.
Love,
The 33 year old Bronwyn of your future
So how was this: reading my letter to myself? What insights, comments, questions do you have? We’re inviting a conversation. If public forums feel too big of a step right now, what would it be like to participate in this same exercise—writing a letter to a younger you?