A Framework for Making, from a Prospective Ally
07/12/20
By Jeremiah Chiu
A Framework for Making, from a Prospective Ally was originally published in the July Issue of The Smudge. Order the issue and subscribe to The Smudge here:
http://www.thesmudgepaper.com/product/volume-4-issue-7-july-2020
from The Smudge
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I was going to die, if not sooner then later, whether or not I had ever spoken myself. My silences had not protected me. Your silence will not protect you.
But for every real word spoken, for every attempt I had ever made to speak those truths for which I am still seeking, I had made contact with other women while we examined the words to fit a world in which we all believed, bridging our differences.
And it was the concern and caring of all those women which gave me strength and enabled me to scrutinize the essentials of my living.
— Audre Lorde from The Transformation of Silence into Language and Action
A Start
On May 25th, 2020, Derek Chauvin, a police officer in Minneapolis, needlessly murdered George Floyd. His murder—another life lost, linked in a brutal chain of thousands of other police-committed murders, acts of violence, and racial inequalities against black people—has (once again) activated people into the streets for protest.
We have seen these unforgettable images before. We have heard the desperate calls for breath, for justice, and for change before. Why did George Floyd’s murder spark protests again? Why now? Is this the culmination of months of collective quarantine? Is this the effect of a more social-media-oriented society? Why are so many of us suddenly prepared to join the fight for equality?
For myself, the why matters much less than the what.
Rather than why now? I ask, what now?
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I write, occasionally, with the collective we, as the following thoughts connect responses that I have read and expressed and the tense shifts back and forth: questioning myself and working through ourselves.
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We, non-black people, find ourselves into a tumultuous time: of hope and uncertainty; of anger and excitement; of frustration and confrontation; of questioning and acknowledgment. We’re faced with the truth of our problematic histories—our shame—and are met with a multiplicity of responses in which there is no single answer, no easy path. Through a thicket of protests, social media, news, email, zoom panels, etc... we are (understandably) schizophrenic—overwhelmed, activated; paralyzed, outspoken; fearful, fearless.
Our collective desire seeks to fix everything immediately as we are confronted by our complicity. This energy is necessary. This work is necessary. These protests are necessary. But this work dismantling racism, a human-made virus, cannot be eradicated immediately. Our track record shows that implementing sustainable solutions may extend well beyond our lifetimes.
So, while protests are a catalyst, an immediate action—literal steps in the right direction. Where do the steps lead us? What are the short-term plans that guide us toward long-term change? We cannot walk forward today and sit back down tomorrow while the cycle repeats. And as we take comfort in the momentary calls for solace and self-care, remember, not everyone is afforded this privilege.
An Image
Let’s start at the foundation. The System—law enforcement, Capitalism, and Colonialism as a whole—has always been problematic. These infrastructures were built on the White Supremacist ideologies of control, exploitation, and racism. And though these ideologies are exploitative and unnecessary, we can understand why the people benefiting from its power want to maintain its existence, despite its lack of humanity. This immoral infrastructure is veiled under the guise of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness amongst all people, equally. But here in June 2020 the veil has, once again, been lifted.
As we protest law enforcement, (our system of internal colonialism), we must also dismantle Capitalism. Both are principally opposed to equality. Capital: the excess of assets over liabilities (i.e. profit above all), and Colonialism: the practice of acquiring full or partial control and exploiting its economies. Yet, when we think of equality—literally the word equal—there is no imbalance, no excess, no control. There is no winner, there are only participants.
Let me briefly visualize
this opposition.
Equality is a horizon that expands our vision. Equality is not symbolized as an upward trajectory, but rather as two parallel horizontal bars. Capital, however, is a vertical symbol. Capital carries an upward trajectory, it never plateaus. It is the arrow on a chart that continues upward infinitely. It is a wall. It is here that I begin to see the subtext of our complicity. This upward trajectory, this wall aimed at the sky above—a place long-taught as having limitless potential—holds our dreams. But the sky, for the bipedal human, is inaccessible, unreachable. We cannot walk towards the sky. We cannot access the sky on our own. To reach the sky is an afforded privilege. So why are we taught that this is the direction to head? It’s a metaphor, you may say, but it’s also an example of a capitalist mindset that reinforces inequality. The horizon, however, is accessible to all, we can walk towards it every day. The horizon is grounded like the body is grounded.
As we re-imagine our future, let us place our collective potential and our collective dreams in front of us, on the horizon—a direction that we can all walk towards together. There are many people that have been walking forward for a lifetime, and there are even more of us that may not know how to take the first step. We should be mindful and empathize with each other’s pace. We must remember: this is a practice. The destination is the journey, and the sun is a beacon guiding us forward each day.
A Question
So here we now stand—artists, musicians, activists, writers, makers—upright in protest against a sky-high wall cemented into a foundation of racism and inequality. We can no longer comply. We are obligated to act. We have witnessed this struggle over several centuries and it now lies in our own hands. It is our work to do. How do we crumble the wall? What can we actually do? How can we be allies?
A short video response by Brandon Kyle Goodman—one of the many viral voices—framed the questions, “What can I do? and How can I help?” He says,
“If tomorrow, you woke up to the headline, and the headline read:
“[insert your black friend’s name] was shot down by the police. He was unarmed.”
What would you do?
How would you react?
He continues, “I hope your brain is activated, I hope you’re coming up with a list of things that you could immediately do and that you would do…and if that’s not happening, then that’s the problem.”
This is a provocation for empathy. A framework to put yourself in the shoes of the (too many) people who know exactly how it feels to receive news that a police officer has murdered their friend/family member.
I took a moment to imagine this—as I, fortunately, have not had to experience this scenario. I wrote a few names into the sentence above and immediately felt sadness and pain. Even as I write this now, it’s extraordinarily hard not to be upset, at a loss, incredibly frustrated, emotional.
A Process
Reacting is natural and grieving is a process. Acknowledging grievance as a process can act as guidance for steps forward—the horizon expanding our vision.
I received the news:
OUTRAGE
I am frustrated and angered by the injustice:
PROTEST
I am not the victim of this injustice:
LISTEN / LEARN
I grieve the loss of life:
PROCESS
I want to work for change:
IMAGINE
I can see a brighter future:
ACTIVATE
I want to catalyze this change:
DEMONSTRATE
If we want to take the steps towards long-term, sustainable change, we must acknowledge our own complicity and we must put forth an incredible amount of energy and effort. It’s hard work, but it’s the best work we can do.
We have already seen these steps taken. People are on the streets protesting. People are donating their time, resources, and money. People are sharing. People are communicating. People are facing their micro-aggressions. We all have several roles to play—and we need to practice our learning each day.
So how might the work take form? In short, it takes many forms. As artists, we will respond through our aesthetics and visionary concepts. As musicians, we will express deep emotion through song. As social and cultural workers, we will form new organizations, community programs, and events. As designers, we will develop new ways to see and understand our world. As writers, we will pen a bold new vision. As curators, we will demonstrate diverse programming. As members of a community, we will support local organizations, clean up our spaces, and ensure they are open to everyone. All of us will donate. All of us will be well-informed voters.
When is the right time to start? Shouldn’t this be a time to listen, and not put the spotlight on myself? Yes, absolutely. It’s important that we take a moment to listen and process. We must scrutinize our own practices and assess our damage. No one is exempt. It is not enough to just continue making as usual and donate proceeds for the near term. We all work under capitalism. If that’s the root of the problem, we need new visions, alternative economies. Right now, your work can be done in isolation, it doesn’t have to be public. This doesn’t mean that you must refrain from sharing work publicly, but that we must now view work through a new lens.
A Post
Social-media is a double-edged sword. While incredibly useful as a platform to connect and disseminate information, remember, it is an advertising platform. Social justice is in fashion and these platforms were designed to trigger our senses into feeling that a repost, a like, or share is enough. It is not. It is necessary and helpful to share information, but deep learning will not happen on social media. While we can all collectively like, “Defund the Police”, these short phrases are advertisements, first and foremost. We must be mindful of empty rhetoric and performative allyship. As we’ve seen, it’s far too easy to jump on the bandwagon and black your screen out. To truly make lasting change, we need to activate in more spaces than social media, we need to organize, contribute, and be active in our communities.
A Space
Space is a privilege. It may be the hardest thing to sacrifice. Platforms like Instagram are spaces/capital entities/virtual storefronts that we scroll by, looking through the window of our phone, seeing what’s for sale. Window shopping. Some of us have accumulated thousands of followers, these are fairly substantial capital entities. If we truly want to give voice, to amplify, to share, are we willing to sacrifice our space in earnest, without a saviorist mentality?
Let us imagine this extreme, but certainly not unfair scenario: For the next 400 plus years, would you be willing to: reverse the wage gap, accepting a (generous) 30% of your salary? Forego all upcoming opportunities? Give your platform so that others may express themselves? What are you willing to sacrifice?
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Now, this may not be the solution, but let us consider how these conversations force us to confront the reality of systemic inequality.
It’s all so much.
It’s complex.
It’s dark.
It’s emotional.
It’s an anxious feeling as we are all seeds born into this unjust, unequal system. It’s what we know, what we’ve participated in, and what we’ve contributed to—knowingly or not. The work we do/make should be considered thoughtfully, but it shouldn’t inhibit our ability to speak. We learn from failure, and silence is complicity. But we must also question everything. Nothing should be assumed, and nothing taken for granted. Every word, line, symbol, shape, color, gesture, note, expresses an intention. Now is the time to rethink, reinvent, make new spaces.
A Framework
The framework to start follows these simple steps. I invite and encourage you to participate, to contribute, add, edit, etc… Let’s evolve this.
Capture your emotion. Write it down.
OUTRAGE
React. Release. Feel the emotion.
PROTEST
Be silent for a moment. Don’t assume anything. Do research.
LISTEN / LEARN
See your own complicity. Understand where you stand.
PROCESS
Explore your expression. Be honest. Be vulnerable.
IMAGINE
Put forth your vision of the future.
ACTIVATE
Usher in a new reality.
DEMONSTRATE
So as we are out there protesting, donating, sharing, supporting. Remember first to listen and to not assume we know the answer. Know that there will be a time when it is important/necessary for us to make, to create, to respond, and to share again. There will be mistakes made. Confront them, learn from them, and move forward.
Remember that we, non-black people, need to refrain from asking BIPOC to respond. This is not their responsibility, nor it is their work to do. This is your work, and this is my work. Don’t do work that attempts to show-off your allyship. Do real work. Speak honestly from your own voice. Reach deeply into your pain. Try harder than ever to empathize. All work is political, and if you won’t take a stand, that will now be your stance. I believe that change starts with the individual. Your actions impact everyone and everything around you.
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Like breathing, any process—grieving, making, learning—oscillates inward and outward. It’s a repetition. Unfortunately, not everyone has been equally given this human right, of breath. And so as we continue forward, learning to breathe together, we must put forth extra effort for we are not only breathing for ourselves, but for those that we have been suffocating for far too long.
Dare to be vulnerable.
Remember that the way forward is toward the horizon, not the sky.
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It is a great privilege to be able to share my thoughts/process at a time when they are volatile and changing each day. I’ve spent a lifetime feeling uncomfortable with my inability to speak, but know that now is the time to try, fail, learn, evolve, and try again. Thank you.
Jeremiah Chiu