We need one another to do better

I’ve been grieving for all the people affected by the Buffalo shooting this past weekend—not yet 48 hours ago.

I keep wondering especially about the 10 people who’ve been murdered—about their families and coworkers and neighbors and friends who are all grappling with their loss in all the ways. I know little about any of them. But I keep thinking about what’s likely happening for them now.

How they had to wait to know if one of the victims was their loved one. They somehow—terribly—got confirmation. They’re in shock or they’ve fallen to their knees or they’re angry and vocal or they’re speechless and stricken. Maybe each of these things in the space of a few minutes.

They are forgetting to eat or to drink water. I wonder if someone is there to walk through this with them—reminding them to take care. The families and loved ones are looking at that trinket or piece of art or article of clothing and remembering the connection to their murdered loved one. Maybe that item just gained a new status as something that connects them to this person they will never see alive again. They are—I hope—gathering with other people who love them. Who loved the person gunned down in a grocery store for no reason except a man twisted by hate wasn’t stopped by any system or safeguard.

They are incredulous. They are trying to make sense where there is no sense. They may not be surprised—but they may have a feeling that their family has now felt the up-close pain from the relentless scourge that plagues this country. White supremacy and its lethal grasp are possibly more personal than ever for them.

In addition to all they’re walking through emotionally, they are faced with suddenly-urgent tasks. They’re making funeral arrangements, taking care of dogs and cats. They’re trying to find the photos and considering how to tell the story of this life cut short. They’re wondering about homes and what is to be done with them now? They’re flying from across the country and taking their three days—if they’re lucky—of bereavement pay. They are sitting next to you on that plane or that bus and they’re grieving.

Meanwhile, perhaps they’re being asked to represent the Black community. Maybe this is an urgent and necessary wish for them—maybe they want to be in front of the camera and speak to the injustice that has struck their family. But maybe it is an undue burden. Maybe they just want to be left alone to grieve with their loved ones, or however they see fit with privacy. In all circumstances, they are being stretched.

Hopefully, they can be sheltered for a moment from the additional horror of people—mostly White people—who are actively working against taking any kind of responsibility for this terrorist act by another White man. Who are saying things like “This isn’t about race.” I hope that they can be sheltered from this kind of noise, at least for a time.

When many of us are back at work today, there will be another kind of disregard. We won’t talk about the shootings at all.

Somehow, many of us go back to “How was your weekend?” and speak of getting out in the garden or family gatherings or whatever we talk about. We won’t bring this conversation of destruction to work. Is this a conscious choice?

I am a White woman—I don’t pretend to know much about being Black in this country. But it seems obvious enough that keeping this conversation out of our workplace environments is another form of violence from White supremacy that we need to counteract. We need to see one another more clearly. And White folks, none of this changes if we aren’t able to look at ourselves and what we sustain and create every day.

I know there’s no tidy formula for how this cycle of violence and racism stops. But I know it has something to do with seeing one another and feeling the hard things together so that we can act differently. We must face the destruction so that we have the stamina to change systems.

So that’s what I’m trying to do—and thus this “thinking out loud” post. I will ask the people I work with today to pause and have a moment of silence and to face the consequences of systemically-supported hate that we’ve witnessed this weekend. To feel this loss. And to keep speaking and acting against it. To acknowledge out loud that we need one another to do better.

#buffalony #racialjustice #whitesupremacy #justice #leadership #work #diversityequityinclusion