Small Great Things
If I cannot do great things, I can do small things in a great way. ~Martin Luther King Jr.
I just finished one of the best books I have ever read. Small Great Things, a novel by best-selling author Jodi Picoult. It’s poignant, complicated, informative, and powerful. My colleague and dear friend, Holly Paulette, recommend it to me. After several months of it sitting by my desk at work, as I admired the colorful Polaroid-like squares on the cover, I finally picked it up and started to read. Now, having finished it, I know that while I’ll return Holly’s book to her, I will also be purchasing a permanent copy for my personal bookshelf. And, you should too.
We live in interesting times. Turning on the television, radio, or scrolling through your social media feeds, it is hard to deny that we are a country… maybe even a world… divided. The inequity and injustices are plentiful. Which, I think, is why a line from this book hit home a little harder than others (and there were many!).
“We are supposed to be the [legal] guardians of a post-racial society. But, you know, the word ignorance has an even more important word at its heart: ignore. And I don’t think it’s right to ignore the truth any longer.”
October 9, 2013, was- without question- one of the hardest days of my professional life. Why? Because everything I thought I believed about myself was brought into question, put on display, and held up as a shining example of white privilege—though I wasn’t even familiar with that concept at the time. It was like I had been stripped naked and put on display in the town square, each and every flaw being pointed out for others to see.
I had just started a new job as the chief of staff to Vice President of Student Affairs, Dr. Patty Perillo, at Virginia Tech. I was attending a leadership team meeting, a fall retreat, with more than 20 directors of various departments throughout the Division of Student Affairs. Our retreat focus was intercultural competence and our facilitator that day was the Rev. Dr. Jamie Washington.
Per his website, he is known as “The Engagement Specialist,” and sees himself as an instrument of change. It goes on to note that he works every day to help people find the best in themselves and others, and that he lives by the words of one of his favorite songs:
If I can help somebody as I pass along, If I can cheer somebody with a word or song, If I can show somebody that he [or she] has traveled wrong, Then My Living Shall Not Be in Vain.” ~Mahalia Jackson
Of course, the problem with learning you have (are?) traveling wrong, as Dr. Washington pointed out to me, is you sometimes get lost more before you find your way. And that is exactly what happened to me.
I’ve always been a hard worker, earning “my keep” so to speak. I spent a year traveling with the international organization Up with People, whose entire purpose and mission is “bringing the world together.” I was cognizant of slang, derogatory terms, and off-color jokes… and I avoided uttering them. I thought I understood the concepts of prejudice, racism, and social justice.
I was wrong.
And on this day, with Dr. Washington, it was made abundantly… and publicly… and painfully clear to me.
It also created a tsunami of personal discomfort, reflection, awareness, and realization about who I really was… and, more so, who I desired to be. And while the waves of that massive tsunami are now gone (almost 4 years later), the debris and destruction… the scars… remain. Destruction means you can rebuild. Scars mean you survived. I’m different, but better. I’ve been rebuilding me. I’m not ashamed of who I was, instead I’m inspired to do and be better. I’m willing to be uncomfortable, admit I’m wrong, and do my own work. And, I’m awake.
I will not conspire with ignorance, because I will not ignore the truth.
The truth is I’m white. I’m Christian. I’m cisgender. I’m heterosexual. I’m formally educated. I was raised upper-middle class, now upper class. I hold a full-time job. I own a car and a house. I am debt-free. I have good health and quality health insurance. I have access to childcare for my children, and can afford it. I don’t worry where my next meal will come from and never have. I travel for fun. I’m a single-mom and wear that adjective as an honor badge more than a scarlet letter.
I could pat myself on the back. I could say I’ve earned everything on my own through hard-work and dedication. I could talk about how blessed, lucky, and fortunate I am (or shall I say privileged?).
I could be ignorant.
I could ignore reality.
I could lie.
But I won’t.
Because the truth is that I was born into and have been surrounded by privilege and a system that benefits me.
I can walk down a street in a hoodie without fear and with my head held high. I can get pulled over by a police officer and not fear for my life… likely even receiving only a warning, not a ticket. My name doesn’t give away my gender, nor does it imply ethnicity of any kind, when I send an email or apply for a job. I present female and date men– society’s status quo. I have visible tattoos as well as dark hair with streaks of blue, purple, and green—and it doesn’t affect my career, doesn’t call into question my ability to mother, and draws more positive attention than negative.
This is privilege. And not everyone has nor enjoys it.
I used to hate the word. I remember one time when I was told that I was “born with a silver spoon in my mouth” and I fired back, offended. I remember another time when I argued with an individual who said, “you didn’t get here alone” wanting to believe I worked hard and did it all myself. And I still cringe at that date in October 2013, when a colleague said to me, “It must be nice to sit in such a place of privilege to not have to think about [what makes us different].”
Oh, how her words caused a visceral reaction in me. How I cried, shook, got nauseous, became angry, and went home and straight to bed sick with the reality of who I was… a fake, a phony, an unknowing closeted racist. It hurts to even type that now. It was all so different from my own impression of self. Because of the color of my skin, because I’m financially stable, because the system is built for me, I qualify. My lack of awareness and education on the topic of social justice was contributing to the problem. I didn’t like that. And I decided this is NOT who I wanted to be, nor how I wanted to live in this world.
I could have chosen ignorance. I could have chosen to ignore the facts slapping me hard in the face. I could have pretended to not see, refuse to acknowledge, and gone on about my life. That’s what privilege allows. Choice… ah, the epicenter of privilege.
Despite the Pandora’s Box of emotions and realities I needed to acknowledge… the self-awareness and self-education I needed to embrace… ignorance wasn’t isn’t an option. And, this is a project and process that I’ll never finish, a task I’ll never complete. I will never arrive and claim success. Because every day a new facet of my privilege is highlighted—my ignorance unveiled.
If you are reading this and you think… “I’m not like that” or “This doesn’t apply to me.”
Here is a mirror. Check yourself.
Racism is individual, institutionalized, and systemic. It’s about power—who has it and who doesn’t.
I know, I know… you don’t see color, you have Black and Brown friends, your cousin is gay, ALL Lives Matter. (Step 1: Stop saying these things immediately!) Yep, yep… the world is so much better now than it used to be. (Have you ever stopped to ask, for whom?) This– these reactions and responses– they are called deflection.
Are you white?
Are you male?
Are you straight?
Are you Christian?
Are you cis-gendered? (Do you even know what cisgender is? Because several years ago, I didn’t.)
If you answered “yes” to any of these, allow me to introduce you to your privilege.
If you are having a reaction right now, it is okay. You will be okay- I promise! I invite you to Google search the term “white fragility.” Or HERE, I’ll help by making it easy. It’s real. I experienced it and you might be experiencing it too.
Claiming you aren’t prejudice, saying you aren’t racist – it doesn’t make it untrue, it just is either you 1) claiming your privilege or 2) embracing your ignorance.
So, all of this “me-on-my-soapbox ranting” is to say, take one step. Just one. It’s easy. Read Small Great Things by Jodi Picoult. It’s beautiful and complicated and a perfect first step toward considering how you might be contributing to and benefiting from racism.
Oh, and Dr. Washington, your life is most certainly not in vain! Case in point: ME! Thank you, sir. You’ve been one my life’s greatest lessons.
GlitterBombMom 
How about you made me cry this morning. This is powerful and amazing. Thanks for your truth and your journey. Sending you love and light and you continue to make the world a better place. Hope to see you soon.
Jamie
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