“….All your life you were only waiting for this moment to arise….”
On the anniversary of the day John Lennon was shot and killed, I heard Paul McCartney singing ‘Blackbird’ in my head all day. “…take these sunken eyes and learn to see…”
In a store at the end of the day, the song in my head stopped when I overheard an interaction between an older middle aged African American woman and a white woman around the same age. It sounded like maybe they had both been heading into the one-person restroom at the same time.The white woman went in. The African American woman waited.
When the white woman came out, she said, “I was just telling you that the sign said you couldn’t take your stuff in the restroom.”
The African American woman said, “I have a masters degree. I can read very well. I know what the sign said.” She went through the door. What sounded to me like pain, weariness, assaulted dignity lingered. I can still hear her voice. Was it my place to do anything? Was it my place not to do anything?
As an adult in a school building, I know I have a responsibility to check, and check with, students, families and colleagues. Some of our schools have an explicit culture to support awareness of how we interact across differences, then kids have a context when hurtful or disrespectful interactions are interrupted.
“..Blackbird singing in the dead of night…”
In a store with strangers, I hesitated.
With death and loss in the air we breathe, we are in a state of urgency to stop the violence and injustice. Beyond actions to influence those with political power, this is a time to increase our consciousness of what we do every day—noticing every minute of our lives when we are called to step up against micro-aggressions and other oppressions–in school hallways, classrooms, and everywhere. And when we don’t have positional power to stop it, we can at least join each other in recognition of what we see. And we can still call it out.
“Blackbird fly….into the light of the dark black night.”
Sometimes these entries make me laugh, sometimes they make me cry. They always make me think.