Silence is Not An Option

As the sun sets on this Wednesday evening, it is June 17th, 2020 two days before Juneteenth, a day that so many Americans have conveniently glossed over for years. Why isn't this tragic and monumental day nationally celebrated and federally recognized across our country? On Friday June 19th, I will hop online to virtually celebrate this holiday with my family because this year and in this moment, I am finding I need them now more than ever. I have also set a goal to run 150 miles this month for Black Lives Matter, and to donate $150 to the cause. On this Wednesday night I have reached 77.33 miles and have 72.67 to go in the next 13 days. I'm running to clear my mind from this trauma constantly hurled in my face, to honor those who have been shot running like me, who have died for being black, and to commit to advocating for and making change.

 As a black child growing up in Des Moines, Iowa, not once was I taught about Juneteenth in my k-12 education. My first African American History class came my freshman year of college, when I elected to take this class, taught by a white woman at The University of Iowa. The first time I was called a Nigger was when I was six, playing on a sidewalk with my brother while my mom browsed a garage sale on the South side of Des Moines. That day is so vivid my skin still crawls when I think of it.

 Is it not unjust for a child to learn about "being a Nigger" before the many other things we are taught in elementary? A car full of white teenage boys drove by and tried to define my blackness and make me less than. That is less than human. In this past year, I have been called a Nigger twice while out jogging. Both times this happened in downtown Denver by complete strangers. Last week, as I was passing my 50 mile mark a white man laying on a skateboard on the sidewalk pointed his fingers at me play-acting pulling the trigger at me. I kept running. I am 33 years old and my generation is just as plagued by this abuse and hatred of black people as was the generation of my parents, my grandparents, and my great grandparents.

 As the sun is setting this evening, I've decided to not be silent and "hope" that things will change, but to take a stand and ask that you do as well. I ask that you listen, that you see, that you acknowledge, and that you make a commitment to honor the life, human rights, and the historical pain and trauma inflicted on African Americans every day in America. Silence, willful ignorance, and avoidance is complicity and acceptance of the current state of our country and world. Be better, do better.

 I'm tired. I'm heartbroken. I'm stressed. I'm sick of trying to manage the daily trauma I have experienced for just being a black woman in this country. I thought that I would become immune to the fear that comes with stepping outside my house in my skin, but no, it's rooted deep in my body. I am angry and I'm confused as to how someone can look at me and judge, hate, and have notions of killing bodies that look like mine. We cant ask black people to be patient and accept the current state, so changes will have to come not just with the police, but in our education system, our neighborhoods, businesses, culture, and many areas of society.

 So I run. I run these miles thinking about slaves that had to walk from the South to the North to get free. I think of Harriet Tubman's determination. I run so my feet hurt, just as my ancestors have felt physical pain as they labored and toiled serving others and building this country. I run willing to die for my freedom and the right to claim this country as my own. I run to raise awareness and inspire people to vote, to write their Mayor, City Council, Governor, local Legislators, and members of Congress. I run to challenge you to also give money to causes that care about and will bring change in America, because if we are being honest, there is power in the purse. As I see the protests in Denver fade, the graffiti being scrapped away, and a reopening of society, I know the next theater for change must come via policy, budgets, political will, and alliances for change.

I'll end by saying think about how you will change this country. Below are a few ideas:

• Read Martin Luther King's book, Why We Can't Wait
• Register to vote, vote, and then register brown and black communities to vote
• Read Tim Wise's book, Dear White America
• Truly seek education on America's History, which can't be told without African American History
• Financially support Black Businesses, Restaurants, and religious institutions
• Practice diversity, inclusion, and equity in your workplace and if you are in a leadership role let this be reflected in your hiring practices and treatment of your employees. If you are unsure of how to do this, get educated
• If you are able, create a scholarship with your friends or family or donate to an institution that will specifically educate and train black Social Workers, Counselors, Lawyers, Doctors, and those seeking political and public service careers.
• If you can, donate. I will be donating $150. You can give $1.50, $15, $150, $1,500, $15,000 to causes such as the examples below:
• https://blacklivesmatter.com/
• https://brooklynbailfund.org/
• To political campaigns and candidates expanding voting rights and access.
• To your local non-profit, foodbank, or church serving black and brown populations.
• Join me on a virtual run for your own march for change!
• Speak up and call out hate and oppression of brown and black people.

 Patrice Hawkins

Black Woman, African American, American, Social Justice Warrior, Social Worker, Human