Week 3 - To Alabama from Me
Dear fellow Alabamians,
This weekend has given me so much
to think about I fear I cannot hold all of these emotions and competing ideas
in my mind at once. I write you this letter on a plane from Washington D.C. to
California, where I live now. Two important things have led me to the mental
state I am at right now; this weekend spent at a conference about
Israel-Palestine and also my weekend spent reading a sizable portion of Annette
Gordon-Reed’s remarkable book, The
Hemingses of Monticello.
I have attempted to speak and write
about Alabama and all it entails so so so many times, especially at Stanford,
where I feel the need to explain my state and its complexity as a justification
for why people should care, why this whole nation shouldn’t just forget about
our existence as so many white people seem to want to do (especially
Californians!). I found an interesting comparison to my own issues with
discussing Alabama when talking to many fellow participants at the conference.
One boy talked about how he had spent his conscious years reading and thinking
about Palestine and Israel and he still felt he could not discuss it. Another
friend described it in similar terms, noting that although her mother had
studied international human rights for decades, she still felt a “blind-spot”
regarding having a framework for discussing the Palestine-Israel conflict.
Despite this fear of my own
naivety, The Hemingses of Monticello
has given me a starting point.
I am sorry. First, to my black
fellow Alabamians, for not trying harder and seeking deeper within myself to
understand better what the legacy of slavery has done to the lives of you and
your ancestors. Gordon-Reed’s most striking statement that gave me more clarity
about the reality of slavery is, that slavery is “the millions of separate
assassinations and attempted assassinations of individual spirits carried out
over centuries”. Second, to my fellow white Alabamians for failing to hold you
to higher standards. For failing to push back harder in class and school to
reorient your unbelievably white-centered outlook on every single thing,
including slavery. Gordon-Reed pushed me to move beyond dominant narratives
that put the white slaveholder experience above the slave experience in
terms of something to be studied and something to be understood as individual.
Something that seems obvious now, yet remained unknown to me prior, is that
enslaved people benefit enormously emotionally and culturally the further they
are from their owners. Additionally, alternative narratives, stories, and
emotions of enslaved people are entirely unknown to their oppressors. This
point underscores Gordon-Reed’s emphasis on the most important theme of Sally’s
life; her veiled existence.
I believe further learning and self
and societal examination is incredibly important to my own journey in racial
consciousness and the collective journey of Alabamian, especially white
Alabamian, racial consciousness, but it must also occur in tandem with tangible
change because lives are currently at stake. The effect of white supremacy on
black and brown folks leaves us with no choice to simply bear witness Alabama,
we must act. Something that struck me this weekend at the conference was a
discussion between a centrist Israeli author and a Palestinian peace activist. Their
conversation was varied in topic and seriousness, veering into emotional and
painful territory several times. Importantly to me, they talked about
reconciliation of pain and acknowledgment of loss. Alabama, specifically Alabama
and its deep confusing societal make-up, expectations, and rules, has brought
more personal pain into my own life than I thought possible. I come to you,
Alabamians, as a white person with a limited view and very different
existential and physical stakes in fixing inequality and injustice than others
in our state. Yet, I must offer my up belief in dialogue. We must be honest
Alabama, about true feelings and true loss. About true fear and true prejudice.
It will be so painful, and the pain will be unevenly distributed to black
folks, as it always has been in the United States, especially Alabama. Yet, I
see no other way forward. I know I can start with my own community, with the
white people I know and have access to. I believe in us Alabama. I believe in our
goodness and our love for our families. I believe that we can be so much
better.
With timid love,
Anna
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