Wrestling Race & Privilege

The sun peaks over the horizon, soothing darkness back to sleep — bending, stretching, painting the sky orange, pink, purple and eventually blue.

It’s time. She laces up her shoes, ties back her hair, and dives — head first — into the belly of the beast. The beast doesn’t like her there. She pricks and she pokes. She pulls and she pushes. Sometimes she sits quietly without moving a muscle, and her presence upsets him.

How could it not?

His strength comes when he is ignored; when they pretend he’s not there. Labor for power and wealth gave birth to this creature that weaves illusions of superiority and righteousness into its specific breed of disgust, hatred, and abuse. He attacks so slyly that innocents bear the blame, and then he does not let up. He strangles, he tortures, he steals, he lies, he rapes, he murders — again and again and again.

She goes to work.

Packed with privilege, education, and caucasian-decent, she enters a world completely and utterly unlike her own. This is a place where vulnerability can cost you your life, where crack is more abundant than fresh groceries, where dads don’t come home, and where jobs are next to none.

She works.

She is chewed up and spit out. What she thought was up, they say is down. What she thought was good, they say is bad. What she sees as help, they see as a total waste of time. What she sees in herself — they don’t see at all.

What they see — is the beast.

They see undeserved power and wealth. They see self-righteousness, illusions and lies. She stares into the mirror, trying to find what they see, and it’s hard. It’s painful. It’s not her. She knows it’s not her, yet she carries the mark tattooed all over her skin, all over her car, all over her neighborhood. She knows it’s not her, but what can she do? She pulls and she pushes. She pricks and she pokes. She sits quietly, and she hears.

The cries hanging in her ears are not an echo of her own voice, but a chorus of many.

She is not the only one struggling to be seen and heard.

You see poverty. You see crime. You see drugs and prostitution. You see broken families and people experiencing homelessness. This is not me. It’s tattooed all over my skin, my car, my neighborhood, but this is not me. What can I do?

The power of the beast overwhelms her. It scrambles all communication and distracts us from our purpose. Our purpose is to heal. Our purpose is to work together toward a common goal that benefits those who circumstance and history have torn apart. Our purpose is to help people with privilege realize their gifts and motivate them to empower those who have not been so fortunate. Our purpose is to open doors, to lift each other up, to join arm-in-arm so that one day, when we search the mirror for understanding, we’ll find not one person staring back — but an entire community.

Until that day comes, let’s soak up the sunrise, lace up our boots, and get to work.

#lovewins