And, even worse, we hadn’t even realized it. Though we did this with the best of intentions, we still found a way to make BLM. Our self-appointed leadership and participation made us feel good and deserving of a pat on the back for wokeness.īut would we have created this book club if we didn’t feel personally guilty about our participation in racism over our past nearly three decades? Would we have been thirsty for knowledge of the Black experience if we didn’t feel we’d contributed to and benefited from systems of oppression that literally kill Black and Brown people every day? Did we form this book club because it made us look and feel good? Do we ever do things because they are the right thing to do? Or do we do them because people will think we’re good people if we do them, and, in turn, our own self-image will benefit?Īll of these were questions I wasn’t quite prepared to face last Tuesday at our first meeting. The goal? Become better allies in the fight for anti-racism.Īt our first meeting this week we were reminded by some members of our group that while starting this book club was appreciated, the majority white and privileged makeup of this book club made white thoughts, opinions and predispositions the jumping off point of all discussions. With hearts broken open after the murders of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor and Ahmaud Arbery, Kelsey and I decided to start a book club focusing on works by Black authors.
It’s been a week since I finished Kiese Laymon’s Heavy, and it’s taken all of that time for me to digest his words and absorb his rawness.
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