by Theresa Garee | Jun 29, 2020 | Blog
American novelist Alice Walker reminds us:
“A writer, to be connected to the world,
should have a circle that cares about the world.
And out of that would come the writing.”
In rural Ohio where I grew up, our entire circle was white. Some people had freckles or olive skin, but they all had one thing in common: they were Caucasian.
My parents prided themselves on open-mindedness, in part because they held opposing political views on nearly everything. It was not uncommon for passersby to see the signs of rival candidates staked in our front yard.
Mom’s to the left and Dad’s to the right.
Of course, both candidates were male and white.
As I grew older, my circle widened. The 4-H band members, college floor-mates, law school club members, and colleagues at a variety of jobs I held didn’t look, sound, or act like me. I met and learned from people of different races, nationalities, sexual orientations, and creeds.
An Indonesian Muslim taught me to use chopsticks in the dorm cafeteria and told me of how proud she was to be the first woman in her family to leave the country and go to college. I typed papers for a young black man who went on to become a judge. My dorm sisters and I listened to our young Palestinian friend weep when her cousin died during an international crisis.
I made friends across borders, colors, denominations. My circle grew broad and bright.
Recently, I’m reexamining my circle.
Is it big enough, colorful enough, open-minded enough? Have I surrounded myself with a circle that cares about the world? As Walker explains, the voices I hear regularly will bleed into my writing. I want to choose with care.
What does your circle look like? Does it care about the world?
For more wisdom from authors like Alice Walker, please check out You Should Be Writing, the new writing journal from Mango Publishing by Brenda Knight and Nita Sweeney.
by Theresa Garee | Jun 3, 2020 | Blog, Write Now Columbus Essay Archives
One White Woman’s Tiny Plan of Action – Write Now Columbus – June 2020
I’m a white, middle-aged, middle-class woman who lives in an affluent central Ohio suburb. While I was in high school, growing up in rural Ohio, the first family of “colored people” moved into our district.
They were Italian.
Sigh.
Despite my lifelong desire to reform racism out of myself, that lack of people of color during my formative years skewed my perspective. What I don’t know and haven’t experienced could make me dangerous to the black friends I love. I’m committed to facing my white privilege and racism. Until I own it, I can’t do anything about it.
I’m ashamed to admit it took a Facebook friend calling out we “white folks” on our silence after George Floyd’s murder for me to finally, decades too late, take more specific action. I am listening to my black friends, watching black leaders, and allowing their actions to guide my steps.
This week, an article in The Columbus Dispatch explained how business owners were signing a “Letter To Columbus City Council in Support of Resolution Declaring Racism a Public Health Crisis.” As the publisher of Write Now Columbus, I added my voice. It felt ridiculously small in the face of so many deaths, but I had to begin somewhere. Maybe it would help turn the tide.
As a runner, today I would normally celebrate Global Running Day. Instead, I consciously “exercised” my white privilege by running three miles without being killed. Sound harsh? A few weeks ago, 25 year-old Ahmaud Arbery, a black man, was chased, gunned down, and killed by several white men while he was running. Today, I ran for him, used the hashtag #irunwithmaud to bring awareness, and donated to the fund set up for his mother.
I also donated to The Bail Project. Many black and impoverished people sit in jail awaiting trial because they cannot post bail. Meanwhile the white and affluent accused go home and to their jobs.
And I thought about my writing life. While some of the individuals in Depression Hates a Moving Target, are people of color, I did not point out anyone’s race. It didn’t seem to serve the story and might have been seen as gratuitous. I worry I missed an opportunity or responsibility.
I added black-owned bookstores to my lists and pledge to read more black history and books by black authors.
When my coauthor Brenda Knight and I chose author quotes to use in our new writing journal, You Should Be Writing, we carefully gathered from authors of all races. I’m especially proud of the final chapter about the role and responsibility of the writer. Words have power. May we use them wisely.
As others protest—I choose not to because of Ed’s compromised immune system—I continue to take good notes. I record my thoughts, feelings, and sensations, all things I may forget when later I want to reflect on this time.
I will add to my tiny plan as opportunities arise.
What’s your plan?
Notice I didn’t ask if you had one. We’re way beyond that.
It’s not my job to tell you want to do. But please, figure it out.
