Pain in Public

Reading Ashley Smiley's story this morning on my Facebook news feed, I couldn't help but reflect on my own experiences. As a white, cis-gendered woman, I struggle with how to support Black folks in times like these. My presence, my body, often creates barriers through which meaningful dialogue isn't always possible. But I remain committed to this struggle, so here's one of my own stories to continue this important discussion and invite reflection and insight.

Last year, my friend Jessica, a Black woman from Oakland, became very upset at a conference of community members in W. Oakland organizing against gentrification. Former Oakland Mayor Jean Quan had the audacity to show up, even though predatory lending and foreclosure auctions flourished under her watch. The thing was, the conference was crowded. There was not room for everyone to join the morning session, but the waves parted for the Former Mayor to join the conversation, when they didn't for those like Jessica, who were struggling with displacement in that actual moment.

We stood outside while Jessica screamed at the world, people driving by, people walking by, anyone and anything that moved outside that conference. I checked myself that I wasn't going to be the one to try and silence her emotional display. It was real, it was deep, and as a friend, I needed to let her release a lot of what she was feeling.

As one after another, mostly Black women, tried to calm her down, I tried to reason with them that she needed to release. That we shouldn't calm her, that we shouldn't be scared of her emotions, that she needed support and understanding. The police had driven by several times after we were out there, and I knew them stopping would escalate the situation more than stop it. PTSD for folks who have dealt with police before, is a real thing. Do I let her scream and yell with the threat of them stopping? Do I try and silence the emotions that she can't contain any longer? What the hell do I do? How can I remain conscious of my privilege, my body, in this moment?

It was interesting to watch the faces of the men and women I engaged with, hearing a white woman say that we were going to stand back, listen, and let Jessica release because she had every right to be upset. They agreed on such a deep level, while at the same time were worried about how the perception of a 'crazy Black lady yelling and screaming outside the community center' might keep people from coming in; I imagine they may have also had to stifle their own intense emotions to avoid being labeled the 'angry Black person' at some point in their own lives. Some continued to try to get Jessica to be quiet, while others began to build bridges by listening to what she was saying and then seeking points of connection.

We were not kept from attending the other sessions. In fact, many of the people outside talking and listening to Jessica were encouraging her to get in and share her emotions and situation to the people in the space. This community found a way to allow for a public emotional outburst, that made everyone uncomfortable - even me, at times - and tried to turn it into something productive.

At lunch, we were eating with our children and friends. Again, the Mayor passes by, triggering Jessica. Jessica stood in the road (which was blocked off for the lunch festivities) unleashing a barrage of criticism at Quan for being at the conference when Quan wasn't willing to do the work to help keep Black people in Oakland when she had the POWER to do something...For Quan cheering on the encampment in downtown Oakland during the Occupy movement, then sending the police and the Department of Homeland Security to assault and evict us with tear gas.

After a few moments, the shocked bystanders and people sitting outside eating, were really listening to what Jessica was yelling and many of them found themselves agreeing. People began applauding and saying "yea!" after Jessica's points. Quan left the area. And Jessica received a round of applause for calling out the Former Mayor, for telling it from her heart, for speaking truth to power.

I took a risk, by trying to keep everyone from shutting down Jessica's outbursts that morning. It was awkward as heck, approaching the Black women who were coordinating the conference to engage them on how we could allow for my friend's emotions to be okay in that space. I learned a lot about my own privilege and was reminded how we toe the line of offense and disrespect so often. This experience reaffirmed my belief that compassionate communication and a commitment to mindful listening have power that is intimidating, awkward, and potentially, totally transformative.

That day could have definitely ended differently. It could have ended with my friend arrested, her child taken away, or even her being injured or killed. We have to be willing to listen and support without penalizing or criminalizing the very real emotional experiences of Black people in America. James Baldwin said, "to be a Negro in this country and to be relatively conscious is to be in a rage all the time." In most de-escalation training, the first steps are about being present as a listener. Holding back judgment, listening with eyes, ears, and hearts, and validating others' experiences are some good strategies.

Would love to hear others' strategies and stories of support. We MUST be present and supportive of one another, especially in times of crisis, in order to build this better way we so often talk about.