True Unconditional Love

Dear Laila Rae,

I love you. I told you once you were the first person I ever loved more than myself. For a long time you were the only person I loved more than myself. You taught me how to love a person fully, in all their complexities. You have taught me so much over the years and have shaped the person I am, and continue to become. 

I have always admired the way you move through this world. You were a baby that was first described as colicky. You screamed a lot and only wanted to be with your mom. Yes, I would have loved to snuggle with you but I also loved that you advocated for yourself from infancy, even if that was in the form of turning yourself blue from screaming until your mom appeared. As a toddler you started to show more affection for certain people, and I was lucky enough to be one of those people. You ignored anyone you did not want to engage with and while most of the world did not understand why you were not a sweet and compliant little girl I admired how you brushed off the criticism of others and stayed your own unique self. You don’t question your significance or deal with the self-esteem issues so many of us struggle with. 

You are still mostly non-verbal but you communicate your emotions better than anyone I know. You exude love and joy from every fiber in your being. I have never known anyone who loves as deeply and fully as you. You love without prejudice and do not expect for the people you love to be anyone other than their fully flawed selves. You share your love freely and fiercely and those who have the privilege of being loved by you would never question that your love is unconditional. You bring so much joy to a room and there is a reason you are the favorite of all your teachers. I don’t think you have ever told a lie and I don’t think it would ever occur to you to lie. 

You see the world differently than most people; you see it without the assumptions and expectations most of us place on others and on the world. You have taught me that assumptions, both good and bad assumptions, can be harmful. I have learned to avoid labeling both people and things in the world and instead approach others and the world with an open mind, and a mind that is willing to change previously held beliefs. 

Over the past year I have experienced a lot of changes and I do not think I ever would have been able to navigate those changes without having learned so much from you. In the past year I decided to commit myself to sharing my life with a partner, we got married, and are expecting a baby boy in July. 

If I’m honest, I’m not sure I ever would have found a partner I was willing to marry if you had not been in my life. You taught me how to compromise and levels of patience I never knew I possessed. You taught me how to stay calm when I was incredibly frustrated. You taught me to see the world differently and question beliefs I held firm. You taught me how to change my mind, and to see that I am a better person for it. Without these skills I never would have been able to navigate the challenges of partnership to share a life with another person. These skills have also taught me to be a better friend, neighbor, and citizen.

While I am excited to bring a new life into this world, I am also terrified. But I also know that I will love this little boy unconditionally because you have taught me what that looks like, and what it feels like to love and be loved deeply and fully. I also feel grateful he will have you as his cousin, and you will teach him so much about how the world should be, what the world could be. You will teach him to be his own unique self, you will teach him how to give and receive love, and you will show him joy. You will teach him how to move through the world without prejudice and you will teach him how to ignore the unrealistic expectations and assumptions of others.

Laila Rae, this year I want you to remember that you make the people around you better humans and you make the world a better place. 

Love,

Aunt Whitney Rae

America I No Longer Recognize

 Dear Laila Rae,

I love you.

This year I am writing your letter on your actual birthday. I am sitting looking out the window at the snow falling and feeling a sense of peace at the beauty and quiet of a snowfall. Everything slows down and I can just and be still. And while I appreciate the ability to sit and be, I feel a sense of deep sadness over missing your birthday for the first time ever. We celebrated over Zoom and I was able to sing you happy birthday and watch you disassemble your cake, that I did not help create. Your birthday this year feels like most of the past year. A lot of reflection, stillness, joy, and love, compounded with deep sadness and feelings of loss. 

So many have lost so much in the past year. My feeling of the past year is one of grief. Grief over the lives lost due to Covid-19. Grief that our nation seems unwilling to heal the racial inequity and instead it turns towards denial. Grief over widespread and unfounded conspiracy theories imbedding itself into our collective psyche. Grief over an attempted government coup. Grief over the small things I have been unable to do because of the pandemic. Grief over the things I have been forced to do because of the pandemic. But my deepest grief has been over the death of my dear friend, Maria.

I’ve realized I don’t handle grief well. I like to problem solve and find ways to overcome challenges, and I tend to see grief as a challenge. I’ll sit with my grief for a short period, but don’t have the patience to allow myself to grieve for extended periods. Often my grief turns to anger. Anger is easier than grief. It is easier to stay angry and the state of the world, to stay angry at those who believe in harmful conspiracy theories, and it is much, much easier to stay angry at Maria than allow myself to feel the weight of my grief. 

I believe that anger has its place, as do all our emotions, and anger is a powerful motivator for change. But I no longer think that anger brings about lasting change. I now think in order to create the lasting change needed, in the world and in ourselves, we have to honestly grapple with a painful past.  Once America is truly honest about our past, and acknowledges the compounded consequences of our past, then we might start to grieve over our history, and then we might be able to begin to heal. And then we might create real change and possibility for all peoples. 

The first letter I wrote to you was right after the 2016 election. I felt like our country had changed overnight, I was shocked at what I already knew, but had never been forced to confront. Today, over 4 years later, I feel hopeful that our country might finally begin to be honest about our history, that we might finally begin to learn and grieve and heal, but I’m not sure we are ready for that pain. I fear most of us will be like me, and choose anger without ever creating space for grief. 

It might seem weird to people that I am spending so much time talking to a 7 year old about grief. You know there is so much I admire about you, and today I admire how you feel all of your emotions. Our society tries to tell us what emotions are okay to have, and which are not okay. Some feelings are classified and bad, some neutral, and some good. Most of us inhibit many of our feelings, and when we deny our feelings, we move into defensive spaces. Often we never fully process our emotions, and I don’t believe this is healthy for us, or our relationships. There is actually a model used by psychologists that is called the Accelerated Experiential Dynamic Psychotherapy that explains this concept in depth. Most of it is over my head, but what I have gathered is the importance of allowing ourselves to fully step into our feelings, and then we can process, and move to a place of healing. 

I am trying to learn to accept all my feelings, and all the feelings of others, as a core part of me, of them, and then to reach a place of peace and also strength. When we allow ourselves to fully sit with our emotions, we also learn to love ourselves better. Laila, you have not yet been jaded by the world. You scream when you are mad, you cry when you are sad, you laugh when you are happy, you shower the ones you love in hugs and snuggles. You live each day fully immersed in your emotions and most important of all, you love yourself. You have so much confidence in yourself, and that self-confidence trickles into confidence in the people you trust. You lean on others when you need support. You ask for help when you need help. You tell us you can do it yourself when you can do it, or just need to figure something out on your own. If only more of us humans could move through the world like you (I started to type maybe with a little less screaming, but maybe what we need is a lot more screaming) then I would have even more hope that we might one day create the world I imagine for you. Ibram X. Kendi tweeted, “No you won’t recognize America when power is shared, justice lives, and equity between groups is the norm.” In 2016 I promised you I would “fix it.” I dreamt big dreams for you, but I also had an idea we had to return to something I understood as better and normal. But today, my dream for you is an America I no longer recognize. 

I want an America that looks like you, in all your many identities. 

Love,

Aunt Whitney Rae

Thank You

Dear Laila Rae,

This year I had some trouble writing your letter. I have not felt clear in what I want to tell you. I am still unclear on what I want to tell you. So often my thoughts are full of ideas and concepts and tactics and action items that are both complex and ambiguous.

I feel stuck in a tension between hope and sorrow.

I feel hope everyday in the ways I see people working working to create a better world. I am humbled and awed by so many people and feel gratitude for their work and what they teach me. But in the same moments I feel immense sorrow at the state of our world, a world that was not made for you. Lately my heart has felt so heavy. But there is one thing in my life that is never complex or ambiguous.

You. 

You bring so much joy and love into my life. You have taught me to love fully and unconditionally with my whole heart.

When I was in high school, maybe 14 or 15 years old, I went on a service trip. The first thing we were told was to accept the people we were serving exactly where they were. My service group failed spectacularly at this, but the idea has pretty much consumed me over the last 15+ years. The question evolved some into how do I fully accept, and unconditionally love, people right where they are? I went to college and spent four years studying philosophy/religion in some attempt to answer the question (among many others). I have traveled around the world trying to live in spaces of love and acceptance. I have been to trainings and meetings, and centered a lot of my work around trying to live out this ideal. An ideal I consistently failed to achieve. While I could love deeply and fiercely, it was never unconditional and it was never whole.

Then you arrived in this world, and you completely filled my heart.  I knew, without any doubt, I loved you more than myself. And you grew, and with that growth our family experienced so many joys, but were faced with challenges. Because, according to tests and procedures and a bunch of other words and concepts I don’t understand, you were not meeting certain standards created by strangers.

I don’t quite have the words to explain the next part of what I want to say to you. It will be an inadequate expression of what is in my heart. Now Laila, whenever anyone asks me about you, really regardless of the question, my answer is always the same. My answer is always, “Laila is absolutely perfect.” And I will never have a more honest answer to that question. And that is why I know I now understand what it means to love a person right where they are.

So often when I have worked with people and communities, I have loved them, and I have loved them unconditionally. There are many instances where I have accepted people right where they were, but I am not sure I always loved them right where they were. I could point out the flaws, and while I might accept the flaw, I wanted them to change, and within that want, if I am being honest with myself, I also knew that I would love them more if they could make that change.

But there is nothing you could do that could make me love you more. I can have dreams and desires for you, but those are mine to hold and carry, not to push on to you. Which I have been guilty of in the past, and will likely be guilty of many more times in the future. While I can be hopeful you will meet certain standards set by strangers, that hope is merely because it will make your life easier in our terrible society. But I do not care if you never meet those “standards.” If you do, great! I will love you exactly the same as I do today. If you never meet any of them, I will love you exactly the same as I do today.

As I have grown with you, I have realized that you, and loving you, has taught me how to love others better. I have learned to love with my entire heart. I have begun to love others more than myself. I have begun to love others as much as I love you. I have begun to love others unconditionally. I am not going to lie to you and say I now fully accept, and unconditionally love, everyone right where they are. But I am so much better at it. And I have a better understanding of what I need to do to get to where I want to be. So this year my letter to you is a thank you. You are the best teacher and mentor I could ever have.

Thank you, Laila, for teaching me the depths of the love I can hold, and how I can

transform that into loving other people better. 

Love,

Aunt Whitney Rae

Get Back Up Again

Dear Laila Rae,

I want you to know that I am in awe of you. You inspire and encourage me everyday. You are one of my role models and I strive to live in the world and love the world as much as you do. Every year your birthday theme is one of your favorite shows/movies at the moment. This year the theme is “Trolls.” To me, you are Princess Poppy in so many ways. For one, you are joy, happiness, laughter, sunshine, and rainbows all wrapped up in one Laila package. There is nothing I love more than to snuggle under two blankets (it’s always two) with you on the couch. You giggle freely, but chose your words with care. You love to sing the song from Trolls, “Get Back Up Again,” and I feel like that is your theme song.

Laila, you approach the world with so much optimism and hope. You are fiercely stubborn, determined, and curious. You want to see and experience the world and nothing will hold you back. While these traits are the most exhausting for adults, they have always been my favorite traits about you. You never give up, even if you spend an hour trying to figure out how to climb to the top of your jungle gym. If you do get knocked down, like when you had to sit in time out because your mom would not let you put wet toys on Noni’s bed, and you were determined that is what you wanted to do, you bounced back. You bounced back singing, “I'm really, really, really gonna be okay!”

You inherited the stubborn Palmer gene, and I hope that you are always stubborn when it comes to the things that matter most to you. I hope that you continue to learn when to compromise, as long as you don’t sacrifice your values. Even though you are still non-verbal, you are the best communicator I know. You are incredibly self-confident and march around with purpose and intention. I hope that you always want to jump in puddles and make snow angels. You laugh at yourself freely and spin in circles in order to appreciate all that is around your. You love the world and your people with your entire self. It takes you awhile to warm up to people, but once you do, you love unconditionally. Most importantly, you love yourself.

So this year, my prayer for you is that you never change. I hope that you grow. I hope that you question the world. I hope you experience discomfort and challenges, and you allow those experiences to shape you. But I pray you are always stubborn, determined, and curious. I pray that you always love people and the world with the vigor you have now, even when it tries to knock you down. Even when it wants you to doubt your abilities. Questioning ourselves is important, allowing ourselves the grace to be wrong and mistakes is how we grow, but I never want you to doubt yourself. I pray you always love yourself and when you feel doubt, you sing your theme song. I pray that you learn your ability to love fully is your greatest gift. Sometimes it is hard for your family not to worry about you. The world is not always an understanding place. But I believe you are really, really, really gonna be okay.

Love,

Aunt Whitney Rae

Love and Vulnerability

Dear Laila Rae,

I love you. I have decided to start all my letters to you with a simple, “I love you.” Last year I explained how you are the first person I have ever loved with my entire heart. You are still the only person I love with my entire heart. You are my favorite little human.

Today is your fourth birthday. I tried writing this letter several times over the past few weeks and felt a bit overwhelmed and unsure of what I want to say to you today. This past year was full of changes for you and I am so proud of you and all you have accomplished. For me, this past year has been tough. I could give you a very long list of all the things that made the year tough, but thing that was personally hardest was learning to open myself up to vulnerability.

The word vulnerability fills me with dread. The type of dread that sits in the bottom of your stomach and is nauseating. A few years ago I listened to a podcast on vulnerability. I loved it and I hated it. I loved it because I wanted to be a person that embraced vulnerability and grew within that space. I hated because I was not sure I could ever be that person. I have always believed we grow in uncomfortable spaces and have never been afraid of discomfort. My best growing and learning experiences were in uncomfortable spaces but, I never really allowed myself to be truly vulnerable.

I find it easier to keep people at a distance with only a few, close friends. Even with those close friends I put up barriers. I’ve heard people attribute a fear of vulnerability to shame, or fear of not being good enough, or worthy enough. That explanation does not feel true to my experiences. I have a healthy dose of self-confidence and am proud of the person I am, and constantly strive to become. I think my reluctance resides in the fear that people won’t recognize or appreciate what I love about myself. I am hesitant to allow people to see my imperfect and broken parts. If they don’t ever see me, they can’t disappoint me. I have trouble doing things where there are no guarantees, or the potential for extreme disappointment.

This past year I decided I was going to try and open myself up to vulnerability. I believe that vulnerability allows us to form deeper connections. It creates a space where we can begin to love with our whole hearts. I tried to stop worrying about if people would be able to see my attributes in the midst of my flaws. I wanted to be kinder to myself so I could be kinder to others. I wanted to be less quick to judge. I wanted to be quicker to forgive and create space for second chances.  I wanted to form new relationships and stronger connections. My year was not a beautiful adventure in self-discovery and meaningful relationships. I experienced a lot of disappointment and hated every second of it. Opening myself up to vulnerability made me feel weak, and then I felt disappointed in myself. I was kinder to others but not kinder to myself. Laila, I want you to be kind and patient with people, but being kind and patient does not mean you can’t vocalize when something is wrong. Being quicker to forgive and creating spaces for second chances does not mean you don’t stand up for yourself. I want you to have a forgiving soul, but sometimes you can forgive someone and still need to cut them out of your life. Your experiences learning to navigate this will be much different than mine. But even when you feel weak, or disappointed, please be kind and patient with yourself. Allow space for imperfections and vulnerability.

While I still hate vulnerability, there were several moments when, because of my vulnerability, I strengthened relationships. I allowed people to see my imperfections and broken parts and they loved me in my brokenness. And I have been able to love them with a bigger heart. I discovered new strengths and weaknesses about myself. I am learning how to love myself more. Vulnerability not kill me, nor did it break me. I still have trouble loving others with my whole heart, but my overall capacity to love myself and others is greater. I don’t want you to be scared of vulnerability like I am. I don’t want you to ever feel like you are not enough. I don’t want you to worry about what others may or may not see in you.  You will be imperfect. I probably won’t tell you that often because you are my favorite little human, but we are all imperfect. You will face many struggles and they will be your own. People will often hurt and disappoint you.  But I want you to remember you are worthy of love and belonging. I will always love you with my whole heart, especially in your imperfections and brokenness. I want you to love yourself, others, and the world with your whole heart - even though there are no guarantees.

Someday, I hope to be able to do the same. I promise you that I will continue to try.

Love,

Aunt Whitney Rae

The Murky Gray of Sexual Consent

Over the past few days I have been quietly following the conversations around Aziz Ansari and the gray areas of sexual consent. I feel compelled to share my thoughts, which echo many of the voices I have read, because this is a topic that constantly sits on my heart and is one I have never felt comfortable speaking about because so often the conversations I hear around consent and sexual assault are black and white. When it is black and white we can walk away feeling secure in our own actions and behaviors. We are not “those people.” We can tell ourselves I would never be a victim because of x,y, and z, or I would never be a predator because of x,y, and z. This leaves no room to talk about the uncomfortable gray areas that have probably affected all of us, even if it is something we do not want to admit. It does not allow us the space to be messy humans that make messy mistakes. I want to be clear that I am writing this from the perspective of a white, cisgender, heteronormative female.

 I have felt frustrated at the criticisms against “Grace.” It is not always as easy as just saying no. I know this from experience. Many times women feel uncomfortable saying no because of the threat of escalated violence. That is always a real possibility. But sometimes the reasons we don’t say no are grayer than that, messier than that. So much of this gray, murky area is symptoms of our toxic culture of masculinity, that even male allies don’t realize they perpetuate. I don’t directly blame anyone for this - but is something we have to wrestle with and allow ourselves to realize we just might be wrong in some of our long held beliefs.

 I have had more “gray” sexual encounters than I, the staunch feminist, care to admit. Even though, for most of my life, I have surrounded myself with strong females, I have still been susceptible to the influence of toxic masculinity. I am a messy and imperfect person who can only try to be a little better every day. Society has told me that I need to patient and generous. I need to be nice. Compliant. Pleasing. I genuinely want to be some of those traits, and others I would like to shed. I fully recognize the fact that I am able to say “no” at any point, but I’ve also been told to be all these other things that don’t allow me to always say “no.” I often joke with my co-workers that “no” is my favorite word. This is far from the truth. I rarely say no to anyone. I strive to please people, to care for people, to make those around me happy. I’m independent, self-confident, and strong-willed but I deeply care about the feelings of those around me. Part of that is my personality, part of that is being subtly, and not so subtly told, as a female, I should be a certain type of person.

Sex is messy. People have different expectations. It means different things for different people at different times. But we are still expected to respect the rules of sexual etiquette. There have been times I have found myself in situations where the expectation of sex was implied from the beginning. Whether that is going to a male’s home later at night, or scheduling a “hang” after intense flirting. Many times I have clearly said no even if the expectation for sex was clear. Sometimes I did not. Sometimes my body language said no and it was ignored. I don’t blame the men in those situations, I don’t think they are dangerous predators, I don’t even think they are bad guys. But I do think they are victims of our toxic culture of masculinity. They either did not recognize by reluctance, or they chose to ignore it. I genuinely think most of them did not recognize my reluctance because they have been taught a sense of entitlement when it comes to sex. I understood the expectation. I would leave or say no if I wanted. They can’t begin to understand that as a female I am told be contradictory things at the same time. Sex is not just any other social interaction. You can’t simply tell people to avoid dangerous or potentially uncomfortable situations. Sometimes it is not as simple and just saying “no” and leaving. It is intimate and personal. There is a greater capacity for harm. I don’t think it is unreasonable to expect that all parties engage with a greater sense of conscientiousness and empathy for others. Sexual consent is not black and white. It is gray and uncomfortable and messy. And it is something we have to talk about without victim blaming.

I March for Myself

I will march on Saturday. I will march because I am angry. I will march because I am scared. I will march because I believe in the policy platform of The Women’s March. Women’s rights are human rights. Gender justice is racial justice is economic justice. I march because my body should be free from violence. I march for my multiethnic niece and nephew. I march for the children I may, or may not have in the future. I march for that choice. I march to share my story and listen to the stories of strangers and friends. I march to embrace our differences and stand in solidarity together. I march in response to hatred and intolerance. I march because my liberation is bound in yours.

But mostly, I march for myself. I march for the17 year old girl who was sexually assaulted when an older male literally grabbed her by her pussy without consent. I march for the confused girl who felt such shame and embarrassment she never told a soul. I march for the adventuring 23 year old who had her breasts grabbed and butt pinched while walking down the street by two passing males. I march for the 25 year veterinary practice manager who was treated with condescension by male pharmaceutical representatives. I march for the woman who actually held all the power but allowed herself to be intimidated and questioned her own intelligence. I march for the single female in her mid twenties who tolerated groping hands while out dancing with friends.

I march for the self-confident budding feminist who began to speak up while on dates only to be told she was “too this” or “too that” or many times, a bitch. I march for 28 year old who was conned into a timeshare pitch and given the very young, inexperienced salesman. He underestimated her ability to think critically and say no. He became irrationally angry when she refused to buy a timeshare and raised his voice and pointed his finger in her face. I march for the 29 year old who felt extreme nausea when Donald Trump’s 2005 “Access Hollywood” video was leaked. I march for that woman who felt like a scared and embarrassed 17 year old again.

On Saturday I will march because I refuse to accept false value systems that undermine my self worth. On Saturday I will march for my dignity and human rights. I march for myself.

A Promise to My Niece

Dear Laila Rae,

I love you. I did not know how to start this letter so I will start with with my love for you. I love you more than I have ever loved another human. You are the first human I loved before I knew you. When your mother told me she was pregnant my eyes pricked with tears of joy and I felt my heart expand with a new love for you. I did not know your name or gender. In fact the sonogram picture indicated there was a good chance you would be an alien. But I loved you so much. Even today I cannot describe the feeling except to say that in that moment I knew I loved you more than I had ever loved anyone. It was a bit of a relief actually, to finally know I might not be hopelessly selfish, because up until that day I always loved myself first.

I’ll admit, I was hoping your mom would have a boy. We are a family of females and there was a part of me that wanted a little Palmer boy. Then I found out your gender, and your mom wanted to name you after me so I decided having a girl would be alright. If you shared my name you were bound for awesomeness. But really, I was excited at the possibility of being apart of the life of another strong, independent, and fierce Palmer girl. Us Palmer girls, we are pretty incredible. We are stubborn, bossy, determined, and nasty women.

This brings me to why I am writing you this letter. I am writing you this letter because I failed you. White women failed you. White Christians failed you. White privileged people failed you. I am all of these things. Laila, we elected a man into office who is against so much of what I believe in, he is the antithesis of what I dream for you. I don’t know what to tell you. When I woke up the morning after he was elected I felt relief in your tender age of two. I thought, at least we don’t have to explain this to you. But that feels dishonest because he will affect your future and I absolutely have the responsibility to explain this to you because I failed you.

This letter is part apology, part an explanation for what I think happened, and part a promise for what I will do in the future to ensure I do not fail you again. My apology is pretty simple. I am sorry I allowed my privilege to blind me. I was one of those people who said no way can Trump win the Republican nomination. Then I started to feel fear but was still pretty confident that there was no way Trump could win the presidency. Then election night I sat watching the numbers come in and felt shocked. I was stunned that this could happen in my democracy. I went through so many emotions. I was horrified, angry, sad, and hysterical. Eva Dog thought I lost my mind. Laila, I have always believed that I was a pretty strong advocate and ally for those in need. In my self-righteous quests for justice I forgot about some marginalized communities, which is inexcusable because I live in one of those communities. I forgot about poor white people.

It was my white, economic privilege that allowed me to disregard this population, and for that I am sorry. I have not listened to their pain, concerns and fears. I have done nothing to be a peacemaker in these communities so I have to accept responsibility for why they voted for Donald Trump. Laila, even though I voted for Hillary Clinton, and was so excited at the prospect that many of your formative years would be under a female president, I still have to accept responsibility for the presidency we were given. From my position of economic and educational privilege I decided whose and what needs were more important and ignored some of the struggles in my own community.

Laila, I am not trying to excuse the actions of anyone. I am horrified that white people were able to hold their noses and cover their eyes and endorse Donald Trump. They knew what he is and ignored it in favor of their own comfort. They are fully responsible for hatred and blatant acts of aggression engulfing children and adults of color, those in the LGBTQ community, those in the Muslim communities. White privilege is a very real thing. It is something I have struggled with for many years. I have accepted my own white privilege and have been working to make sure I am an ally for people of color, but there are a lot of white people who resent the term white privilege and I understand why.

You have spend a lot of time on the Eastern Shore and you probably think it is a weird place. People have funny accents and drive large, noisy trucks that smell horrible. You have been to our beaches and seen the large mansions that dot the coast. You have also driven through small farm towns where people live in much smaller, and sometimes rundown houses. Worcester county is a strange place, Laila. It is a very rich county in an even richer state. But the majority of the people who live here don’t have very much money. All the wealth and fancy houses are owned by a small fraction of the population. Most of the people, both white and of color, work really hard.

Right now, I am going to try to explain the white people to you. They live paycheck to paycheck, many right on the poverty line. These people are the butt of jokes, but receive no sympathy because of their whiteness. They don’t want to hear about their white privilege when they work sunup to sundown and do not have economic freedom. They have to believe that if people work hard enough they will succeed. This idea is central to their self-worth, because as others like to point out, they have white privilege. Which they do; I’m not denying that. But to them, the message of white privilege also says, if they are not succeeding, it is their own fault. They had no institutional racism standing in their way. If they are not succeeding they are the lazy ones, the unintelligent ones, the lesser citizen. So they deny white privilege. I don’t want to oversimplify anything, and the situation is much more complicated, but this is one dynamic that self-righteous, white privileged activists like to ignore (just to clarify that’s me). Donald Trump spoke for these people. He told them their lack of success is not their fault. People felt like Donald Trump gave them a voice so they voted for him.

Another dynamic is race. I would be lying to you if I did not tell you this election is a white backlash against eight years of a black president. It is a whitelash against the Black Lives Matter movement, immigration fears and Islamophobia. Donald Trump did not create the racism in our society but he allowed it a voice. He told people their fears, albeit irrational and unfounded, were justified. In this justification he gave people the freedom to publicly vocalize their racism, and now they feel justified in following their words with acts of racism. I am scared for you and I am scared for your brother.

You will grow up in a strange world, Laila. It is difficult for me to understand what your struggle will be because you are white and you are also black. It will be difficult for you to understand these two very different histories that make up a large part of who you are and who you will become. You do not look entirely white, and you do not look entirely black. You have a hue to your skin and a tight curls. Right now it is an afro. You are also incredibly beautiful. You have been told this a lot, and will continue to hear it for many years. Physically, you are very appealing. I struggle with this because I want you confidence to come from your existence; I want you to be proud of your appearance but I never want you defined by it. So right now I am trying to teach you to tell people your beauty is genetic and unattainable. Which is true.

I’m getting sidetracked, which is easy for me to do because there are so many things I want to tell you, teach you, and learn from you. You will be raised by a white mother and have the influence of your white aunts. You currently live in a gentrified neighborhood and will be offered economic privileges. You will not fit into a niche and while that will be difficult I know it will make you a nasty woman I will be proud to call my niece.

I will make a promise to you. I will continue to work as a peacemaker. I will be more diligent and I will put my own comfort aside for the rights of my brothers and sisters of color. I will sacrifice my own white privilege and economic privilege in favor of a just world. I will also listen to the needs of those I have previously cast aside. I will not allow myself to feel helpless because I am still in control. I still live in a democracy and I still have a voice. Sometimes I have quieted my voice in favor of making other comfortable. I have been in situations where I avoided making comments or having conversations to not “rock the boat.” Laila, I promise you I will do that no longer. Many people will call me obnoxious. I might lose some friends but I will gain others. But I will do this all from a place of love. I will love my neighbor and I will love my enemy. I don’t want you to grow up in a hateful world, and I will do all I can in the next few years to hopefully repair it as much as possible before you get much older. But even if I fail, I want you to remember how much you are loved, and I want you to love the world. Even the white, privileged, Christians that failed you.

Right now there are people out there defacing prayer rooms, taunting gay and transgender teenagers, threatening Muslim families, and boys grabbing girls vaginas. In spite of this hatred, I want you to remember, people are more that the worst thing they have ever done. Don’t get me wrong, these people need to be held accountable, and their actions need to be condemned and stopped, but they too are redeemable. In order to be real peacemakers we need to listen to all sides, not just the side we think is justified. I made that mistake and now we have Donald Trump as president. Unfortunately for me, it is up to white people to fix this. I read a blog and the author, John Pavlovitz said this:

“Oppressed people aren’t obliged to make nice with their oppressors.

The bullied don’t owe anything to the bullies.

Victims don’t have to make their assailants feel better.

Young children of color aren’t responsible to educate racist children—or their parents.”

So, again I promise you, Laila. I will try to fix this.

Love,

Aunt Whitney Rae

Loving My Neighbor Is Hard Today

I am from Trump country. I grew up in Trump country, went away to college, moved abroad, then moved back to Trump country. Most of my neighbors and co-workers voted for Trump. I knew they would be voting for him before the election and while it was painful I had some peace of mind because while we live on the rural Eastern Shore we are still in the very blue state of Maryland. I was pretty confident in a Clinton win, and while knew I would have conversations about healing racial divides, I thought those conversations would come as the “winner.” I was not thrilled with a Clinton presidency but I did not think I would have the fear I feel today.

I understand Trump voters and I deeply love many Trump voters. People who are from the Eastern Shore are ridiculed in Maryland. DC and Baltimore people, I love you too, but you know you sigh and shake your heads at our “backward ways.” You can’t understand our accents or our conservative values. While I live on the Eastern Shore I also live in one of the richest counties in Maryland, so our county is pretty rich. Worcester County has Ocean City and waterfront properties. We have a lot of money that comes in from real estate and tourism. But this money comes from a very small part of the county and the wealth is held in an even smaller number of hands. If you drive down Route 113 out of Ocean City and towards Snow Hill (or Slow Hill as many like to call it) you will find small family farms.

My neighbors are the subjects of jokes, experience the reality of poverty, but receive no sympathy. They are white. They don’t want to hear about their white privilege when they live paycheck to paycheck, right on the poverty line, and literally work sunup to sundown. They work hard and believe if they just work hard enough they will succeed. This idea is central to their self-worth, because as others like to point out, they have white privilege. Which they do; I’m not denying that. But to them, the message of white privilege also says, if they are not succeeding, it is their own fault. They had no institutional racism standing in their way. If they are not succeeding they are the lazy ones, the unintelligent ones, the lesser citizen. So they deny white privilege. I understand the situation is more complicated and there are other dynamics, but this is one major dynamic in my community. My community has not felt that it has a voice. It is a group of Americans with conservative values and not much money living in a rich county in a very blue state. So they voted for Trump.

Yesterday, the day after the election, I took a mental health day. I did not know how I was going to go to work and be nice to my neighbors. I was angry and did not know how I would continue to love my community or speak kindly. I wanted to lecture them on how they voted against their own interests and demand they explain to me how they are not xenophobic, misogynist, and racist. I went through so many emotions yesterday. I yoyo-ed between boiling rage, sobbing tears, and hope. My poor dog must have thought I lost my mind.

But I need to be hopeful. I am an optimistic person and am most productive when I am hopeful. I

want to have faith in our democracy. I need to believe that our country can work together to heal racial divides. Today I went back to work. Today I spoke to my Trump supporting neighbors, whom I still love. I gave them hugs and then had hard conversations. Most of my co-workers avoid political conversations with me because they know we generally disagree. I have allowed people to avoid these conversations for the sake of their comfort but I won’t allow it anymore. I told them even though they voted for Trump I still love them. We will still be friends but I need you to understand why I am hurting. I am hurting because I am afraid. I am not, and have never been, afraid of a Republican presidency. I am afraid of a Trump presidency. I am afraid of our president elect because of the very real threats he has made against women, immigrants, Muslims, and people of color. I am afraid of Mike Pence and his desire to take away rights of LGBTQ people and reproductive rights. I am fearful of the white supremacists who feel emboldened by a Trump presidency. I am not scared for myself. I have a lot of privilege and economic power; I will be fine.

My neighbors constantly tell me they are not xenophobic, misogynist, or racist. They voted for Trump due to his economic policy. I asked, what are you going to do to work against the white nationalists that just yesterday made real threats against people of color? How are you going to join in the fight to protect the rights of those whom Trump has threatened? This conversation made a lot of people uncomfortable but I refuse to be silent for the sake of comfort. I will continue to ask the uncomfortable conversations and demand answers. I will continue to work for peace and justice. I will continue to love my neighbor.

Dear Donald

Dear Donald,

Congratulations. You are the 45th President of the United States. At the moment I am writing you this it appears you did not win the popular vote. I’m not upset about this. I actually support the electoral college because I believe it is important that our smaller, less populated states have a voice in our government. I did not vote for you. I actually vomited when I learned you would be my president. But it’s okay. You are now my president. You have a very tough job ahead of you and I am not jealous the path you have chosen. You see, Donald, you are now accountable to me. You are accountable to all of your supporters, but you are also the president of, and therefore accountable to over half the population that did not vote for you. I’m nervous for you, Donald. I don’t think you have ever been held accountable to anyone but yourself in your entire life. You will be responsible for everyone in this country. I’m hope you understand what this means because I don’t think you will like it.

You will be criticized everyday of your life for the next four, heck, maybe even eight years. You have not accepted criticism graciously in the past. I will criticize you everyday. Now, Donald, this is not me being a sore loser. I voted for President Obama twice and I have criticized him everyday for the last eight years. I believe that we need criticism in order to grown and constantly seek something better. I have never found good enough acceptable. I also believe criticism needs to be accepted graciously. You are free to disagree with my critiques, but you must accept it graciously because you are accountable to me. You represent me, whether you like it or not, and you have to listen to my voice.

You say you will work to bridge divides and unite our country. I hope you can, and I will work with you for this goal. While am a registered Democrat I do not vote solely along party lines. I actually want a mixed Senate because I want policies passed that represent the interests of our entire country. I hope you can accomplish this. I hope you can keep our unemployment at record lows and create an increase in wages. It is still unclear to me how your current proposals will accomplish this, but I want you to succeed. Donald, I want you to know I will hold you accountable to this promise. You have a Republican majority in Congress so you don’t get a pass. You have one chance to do this right and I want to help you do this.

I want you to succeed, Donald. Your success is my success. But I need something from you. It is a big thing. It is a thing I am not sure you are willing to give me.

I need an apology.

Your words about women during your campaign have wounded me and torn me apart. You have hurt so many people in the country with language filled with hate and fear. There are many people you should apologize to but today I am going to speak to my own experience as a white woman.

I understand the words that came out of the Hollywood Access tape are over ten years old. But you see, ten years is not a long time to a girl who has been sexually assaulted. Donald, time does not matter. Sexual assault stays with us forever. It never goes away. You claim your words were “locker room banter.” You say you apologized. You never apologized. You excused your words and invalidated me. You invalidated the experience of women; those of us who have experienced sexual assault, and those of us who have not. It was not just one tape that has wounded me so deeply. Your words have constantly demeaned my gender and undermined my self-worth. You can’t understand my experience, and I don’t claim to understand yours. So when I say you have broken my heart you don’t get to say, “it was locker room banter.” You don’t get a pass as president. You are held to a higher standard. You have to acknowledge that my pain and fear for my reproductive rights are real. And that you created the pain and fear.

You are now my president. You are now accountable to me and as I told you earlier I don’t think you will like it. I know you don’t want to apologize to me for all the demeaning remarks you have made about women. But you need to if you want to heal this country. You have a lot of people to whom you need to apologize.

No one wants to admit when they are wrong but you will be wrong many times during your presidency. It is inevitable. You are human and you will make mistakes. That’s okay, and I hope we as a country can help you navigate those mistakes. But you will have to apologize. You will have to express remorse and you will have to accept responsibility for your actions. Your actions will now impact the entire world. I hope you are ready for that.

With Tremendous Love,

Whitney

"But if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.”

When I graduated from college I lived in Guatemala. It saved me. I was one of those activists in college. You know, the ones that you sometimes avoid because they make you feel guilty.  Not always intentionally, but you feel guilty for not doing enough. I was busy - planning something, writing something, doing something. I was also angry. I was angry at my friends who did not care as much as I did. I was angry at unjust systems and inequalities. I was angry with government officials. I was angry at the world. My anger was fuel. Whenever I became exasperated, or just too tired, I remembered my anger and it helped me keep moving. It helped me keep fighting.

Then I moved to Guatemala, angry. In the beginning it was hard for me to understand the worldview of the community I served. The community that served me. I saw them as apathetic and complicit in unjust systems. Their acceptance annoyed me. I learned how wrong I was. Their silence was not weakness, it was not silence at all. My community embraced me as an outsider, they loved me. They had a sense of community loyalty that was so beautiful it baffled me. Guatemalans were really good at forgiving. The real kind of forgiving where the situation is never brought up again. It is not forgotten, just forgiven. Guatemala taught me how to forgive and it saved me. It freed me from the anger I carried in my heart that was quickly turning into hatred. I did not want to hate. I fought that hatred and tried to overcompensate with a love that was paternalistic in many ways. In Guatemala I learned how to let go of my anger and love genuinely. Guatemala saved my life.

That was four years ago and since then I have been living a happy life, full of love and forgiveness and empty of anger. I have felt light and free. I have also felt antsy and empty of passion. This summer I felt a spark of that old anger and quickly tried to subside it and instead filled my heart full of love and forgiveness. It worked for a few months. Now I am angry again. I am full of the same anger and passion I used to feel in college and I am relieved. For a while I was scared I would turn into someone who went through the motions of life. I am trying to find a balance between overwhelming anger that consumes me and turns to hatred with an anger that is born out of love.

Martin Luther King, Jr. preached about the danger of a well-adjusted life. There are some things in our world to which we must be maladjusted. He also said “human salvation lies in the hands of the creatively maladjusted.” I believe the racial prejudices and discrepancies in our world is something to which I must be maladjusted. I am angry about these injustices out of love for my neighbor and my love for humanity. I will remember my love for my black neighbors, my brown neighbors, my white neighbors, and my neighbors that are police officers. This not a fight of black against white, or black against cop. This is a fight for the future of our country. The future that does not depend on a military strength or a police force that is given more and more “draconian power” without being held accountable.

I hear white people say, “civil rights happened over 50 years ago.” I say, “Wake up.” Yes, we have made strides in many ways, but we have backtracked in others. Don’t ignore white privilege. Don’t ignore the need for a hastag such as #blacklives matter. A lot of people want to criticize the hastag #blacklivesmatter and say #alllivesmatter. Yes, all lives matter but you are clearly missing the point. It is unfortunate but true that we must say #blacklivesmatter to remind people of their humanity. I saw a tweet that said, “WTF is the impulse behind changing #blacklivesmatter to #alllivesmatter. Do you crash a strangers’ funeral shouting I TOO HAVE FELT LOSS!” This is funny but accurate. Please don’t invalidate the experiences of your neighbor. We can close our eyes to their pain and suffering, but Dr. King also said, “A riot is the language of the unheard.” We can not treat people of color as third rate citizens and not expect something to happen.  People can only take so much.

Don’t live as a conformist. Please don’t adopt a worldview that is ambiguous and scared to make a statement. Don’t fill your heart with so much anger there is no room for love. Don’t look at people as entities or things. Don’t look at individuals as a collective. Look at them and see their humanness. Have the strength to understand your neighbor’s pain, their loss. Have the strength to speak out, to act with your neighbor. Have the strength to love. Not the fake, self-serving love, but radical love. The kind that brings you tears full of pain and joy at the same time. In the words of an Aboriginal activist, “If you have come here to help me, you are wasting our time. But if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.”

Food Day

October 24 was Food Day. Somehow, I missed it. I missed it because I was preoccupied snuggling my sweet little niece and nephew. Since I missed this very important day I am celebrating today. What is Food Day? Food Day happens every year on October 24 and not only encourages people to make healthy changes in their diets but also to take action to solve food-related problems in our communities at the local, state, and national level. This year Food Day was focused around food justice and farm workers.

While I was in undergrad I was busy developing pretentious but naive worldviews that came crashing down the moment I graduated. I was devoted to a variety of social justice movements but I must have slept through the lecture of food issues. I’m not sure how that happened. I grew up in an area where the majority of the population are either farm workers or food service workers. But somewhere I missed the connection between what I ate and the effects it had on others.

It took moving to Guatemala for me to see and understand the importance of food issues. When I moved back to the States the first lifestyle change I made was in my diet and the way I viewed food. The first breakdown I had was in the supermarket when I became utterly overwhelmed by all the stuff. As I looked at the food I thought about all the farm workers who contributed to those products. I thought about their working and living conditions and the never-ending cycle of modern day slavery. I thought about all the energy being used in the overly air-conditioned building with it’s too bright lights. I thought about the underpaid employees of the store. If there was a swooning couch in that store I would have gracefully swooned while dramatically throwing my arm over my eyes. Instead I ran out to the car cried with a snotty, runny nose. Much less graceful but equally dramatic. So I changed the way I viewed and bought food in the United States.

Supermarkets make it easy for us to forget all the work that goes into growing our food. We forget to think about the millions of farmworkers who allow us to eat. Essentially, we forget about the people who nourish and provide us with life. Farm workers are invisible in our society despite the fact that there are about three million farm workers concentrated in California, Texas, Washington, Oregon, Florida, and North Carolina. Farm work is the eighth lowest paid job in the country. Workers make an average income between $10,000 and $12,500 per year even though farm work is one of the most dangerous occupations. Farm workers are also among the most exploited in the U.S., which is not solely due to the fact that more than half of all farm workers are undocumented. Farm workers have to endure wage theft, sexual harassment, intimidation, and in some cases, physical beatings.

I am so grateful for these human beings that provide our nation with fruits and vegetables. Gratitude has always been an important binding factor in my life. It helps me empathize with people. I have to visualize their suffering and feel compassion and humility. Often I feel angry and other times overwhelmingly sad. No matter which emotion is evoked I am filled with a need to act. In different situations those actions vary, but today I want to support the rights of farm workers.

The Coalition of Immokalee Workers (CIW) is a pretty inspiring organization. CIW has a Fair Food Program where participating corporations pay an extra penny per pound for their tomatoes, which doubles the wages of workers who pick the fruit. It also demands a Code of Conduct in the fields, which ensures the human dignity of each worker. The Fair Food Program has six main elements which you should check out here along with other ways you can take action on behalf of those workers that allow the rest of the nation access to food.

There are so many ways we as individual consumers can make small or larger changes that have far-reaching impacts. We can support farm workers that work on large farms and we can support our small local farmers. We can chose foods that are environmentally sustainable. We can cut back on certain foods that are bad for our own health and the health of others. These actions bind us to others and humble us. They unite us as human beings and make us more caring and consciousness individuals.

Embracing Sorrow: Part 2

My friend Leron died. I wrote about my initial reactions in this blog post last week. I wrote about how I needed to embrace the sorrow and suffering I felt.  I wrote about it.  I knew I needed to do it but was unable.

I was in the car with my sister when I heard he died.  I went into shock.  I wanted it to be untrue but I knew it was. I barely shed a few tears.  The next day I flew out to Arizona to help a friend drive across the country.  We talked a little bit about Leron but I felt numb. As soon as we arrived in Maryland there was a beautiful memorial for Leron. I wanted to be there but I was nervous.  You see, I'm usually uncomfortable in large groups. In the past Leron was always the person I looked forward to seeing in those types of situations.  When I saw Leron I felt lighter; he did that to everyone. I went to his memorial and he was not there. I mingled.  I struggled to talk about Leron.  I had not processed his death and I had not processed his life.  The words I had felt shallow and overused.  Leron deserved more than my superficial words. I cried for about 2 minutes on the ride home and wrote my first blog. My words were true but I had yet to really connect and feel those words.

I went through the rest of the week in a haze.  It was a long week.  I was a grump at work.  I went home and sat on the couch.  I barely went to the gym, studied or played with my dog.  I talked to people but I was numb. Every time I had to do something, anything really, I just did not have the energy to care.  It was so strange that I did not care.  I am an introvert and I keep my feelings inside but I feel things deeply.  I knew things were supposed to be happy, funny, sad, etc but I only felt those emotions on the surface.  I wanted to mourn but I was stuck.  And terrified.

Leron's funeral was yesterday. As I walked up to look at his body I saw his profile in the coffin.  It did not look like Leron.  I could not bring myself to look at the body.  I went and sat down and was afraid I would go through the entire funeral without crying. But as soon as the music started I lost it.  I started sobbing.  It was cathartic.  It was needed.  I cried through most of the service.

After the service we went to a local bar and I saw people I had not seen in years.  In high school my sister and I used to have people at our house most weekends.  We decided to have everyone over to our parents house to reminisce. It was joyous and sad and perfect.  We told stories about Leron and my cheeks hurt from smiling so much.  We talked about the kindness of his soul.  Leron had life figured out.  He loved people.  He never judged.  He did not care who you were, what you had done or what you were going to do.  He did not have acquaintances; he only had friends. Not many people have that gift. When we were seniors in high school Leron was interviewed.  He was asked how he thought our graduating class would be remembered and he said he thought we would be remembered as, "a squad of unity."  I never thought about our class that way but that was how Leron saw the world.  There was no difference or barrier that stood in his way when it came to relationships.

One person commented that Leron was the glue that held us all together.  A lot of people do not live in the area any more and said coming home will forever be different.  They talked about how they have mourned Leron.  They were open about the pain they have suffered and helped me mourn. I laughed last night and I cried.  Yesterday I finally embraced the pain and sorrow I was feeling and I hope it will make me a better person.  I made real and true human connections last night. I suffered with people in a way I have never experienced. My heart hurts in a way I have never felt before. I want to live my life more like Leron.  I want to make connections everywhere I go.  I want to accept people as they are.  I also want to cultivate the relationships I have.  I want to tell people that I love them and I want them to believe it.  I want to love more people.

I also want to thank everyone that helped me yesterday.  I'm finally moving forward.  I am becoming more compassionate and humble.  I am really working on the vulnerable thing but it is going to take some time.  Maybe I am little wiser than I was two days ago.  I'm not sure I would have been able to embrace my feelings without you.  Even though Leron is gone I think he will always be the glue because we will never stop loving and learning from him.  Leron, I loved you so much and I will miss you more than I ever realized.