Updated: Sep 3
I wrote a comment to Frenchie this morning and on sending it, something became really apparent to me. My fragility. I didn't think it was there. I thought I was better than that. But there it was staring back at me all along.
In the comment I talked about how I support her even if I might appear silent. When I'm quiet, I am thinking and absorbing and listening and making space for others. I want to speak up in support, I just don't know where my voice fits. My voice is small, online and in the physical world. One moment at a time I'm identifying places where I can speak up and try to offer my voice in support of anti-racism work.
I read it three more times before I posted it, and then I posted it, and then I read it three more times. It was long, which means it'll probably get noticed. It was all about my feelings and my actions, which is really not what I intended and not what it's supposed to be about on her post. Did it sound like excuses? Did it sound superficial? Should it have been a dm? No, she's on vacation, don't want to bother her. Should I just take it down like I usually do?
When it comes to anti-racism work, I second guess literally everything I say. Sometimes I don't say it, and sometimes I delete it. It's not because I am afraid of being called out. I'm really just afraid of hurting someone I respect, or making more emotional work for them. When my words are so carefully chosen I worry they sound insincere or worse, tokenizing. I really want the road to be a little easier when I am around. I want to be better. But I'm coming from the same place as everyone else - a place that is badly, badly broken.
Infinite thanks are owed to the community of activists with confident voices. I appreciate that you give so generously of yourself and are moving things forward for us all by bringing these conversations out in the open, everywhere - even on knitting blogs.
Reading has become exceptionally difficult for me with my sleep disturbance issues over the past year, but I just picked up White Fragility by Robin D'Angelo on audiobook from the library and I am looking forward to examining this issue more closely.