NPR: Dispatch From Charleston: The Cost Of White Comfort

[gollygee]

http://www.npr.org/sections/codeswitch/2015/06/24/417108714/dispatch-from-charleston-the-cost-of-white-comfort

Today, it means that when I discuss these shootings with my white students and my heart is bursting at the seams with outrage and grief, I must keep my voice and gestures gentle and calm and validate my students' most hurtful comments so they don't feel personally indicted.

And it means not just acquiescing to unwarranted police interrogation and arrest. It means being friendly, even gracious, throughout the ordeal. Black survival has so often depended on white comfort.

In the arena the next night, I did, of course, finally take the hand of the woman by my side. She smiled gratefully, her face flushed. Just half a minute had passed, but it had been an awkward encounter for both of us. I joined in the singing — We'll walk hand in hand, we'll walk hand in hand. We'll walk hand in hand someday — but I was thinking about the heartbroken men I met in front of Emanuel AME Church the night before, who spent energy they did not have on appeasing yet another white police officer.

And I was thinking about a black woman I'd met earlier that day, a housekeeper at the Quality Inn where I was staying in North Charleston. It was 100 degrees outside, and we talked while she folded laundry in a barely air-conditioned room. She said she desperately wanted to take her family to church on Sunday but didn't know if it would be safe. What if other white supremacists were feeling inspired?

[Nye Bevan]

1. "I just couldn't bring myself to take this woman's hand ..... it's because she was white"

A reverend led a prayer for the Emanuel AME victims, asking people to take the hand of the person next to them and join in singing "We Shall Overcome." The person next to me was a kind-looking white woman with a small white rose pinned to her T-shirt; lots of people were wearing white ribbons in honor of the victims. She offered me a sad smile and a gentle nod, lifting her hand.

That's when I froze. I just couldn't bring myself to take this woman's hand, and I knew exactly why. It's because she was white.

Seriously, Chenjerai?! You're gonna do this now? The voice of one of my mentors, an older black man who ran a diversity program at my college, boomed in my head. Get over yourself and your racial baggage and support this community. You will hold this white woman's hand. Now!

My arm didn't move. I had no doubt that this woman was at the vigil because she cared and wanted to help. And, just like me, I'm sure she was hurting that night. As a college professor and activist on diversity issues, no one needs to convince me that there are genuine, engaged, committed white people in this fight. I've marched next to thousands of them over the years, I've worked through hundreds of tough conversations with them in workshops on race, and I get to know them every day in my classes.

Attending a Charleston vigil and then refusing to take someone's hand because of their color seems a little...... strange.

[gollygee]

2. Yeah, that's what the article is about

What was going through his mind during those 30 seconds.

[Quayblue]

3. he says so himself....eom

Last edited Wed Jul 1, 2015, 02:29 PM - Edit history (1)

[peacebird]

4. Odd that *that* is what you take away from this very moving article...?

[GeorgeGist]

5. and then ...

I did, of course, finally take the hand of the woman by my side.