Different Stages of Grief

I wrote a post last week about the loss of normalcy during the pandemic and the potential for growth. And then the White world awakened to the reality of racial injustice, deciding there was no more time to sit on the sidelines and wait for change, and that everyone was a part of the solution. The post I was planning seemed tone deaf, and a new one seemed needed. While I cannot profess to have something insightful or even helpful to say, it does seem that we each ought to at least reckon with our feelings, our beliefs, our actions and begin to step into the arena to be a part of the solution. This is my step. It is a baby one, but a step nonetheless.

I grew up going to a Jewish day school from kindergarten through sixth grade. For seven years, I heard from Holocaust survivors who shared their first hand accounts of the fear and struggle, sadness and anger, and ultimate humanity and survival. It was simultaneously terrifying, inspiring, and confusing. Perhaps that’s why I had a need to know more. I was not a bookworm as a kid, yet I sought out books set during the Holocaust or that contained accounts from children. I had frequent nightmares of being chased by Nazis. I’d awaken and go through scenarios of how I’d play dead, how I’d run, where I’d hide, how I’d outmaneuver. And I imagined living in a ghetto, being torn from my family, marching unknowingly into gas chambers, surviving death camps. As I write this, it sounds morbid. Maybe that’s why I’ve carried forward a seemingly large sense of the sadness for those left behind. But it was the way I knew to take control of all that horrible information. I can’t even imagine what it’s like for Black children to be hearing today’s stories and living them, rather than hearing about it in the past tense and relegating the fear to the world of dreams.

Each survivor story I ever heard always had a tone of hope, that sharing their story and educating the children of the future would ensure that all they endured would be put to good use. I fear that I’ve lost sight of some of that. I’ve felt invincible, even as antisemitism has risen in the world around me. I feel safe in my bubble, and would rather not think about or imagine the scariness that exists beyond my immediate environment. I can barely even read or watch the news, let alone let it sink in. And that makes me feel so guilty because that is such a luxury.

I cannot begin to understand the experience of being Black in America. But I hear and see the injustice, I fear and feel for those affected, and I vow to work to understand and to not pretend to be invincible myself so that I can stand with those who know they can never be invisible or invincible.

A lot of our posts on this blog have to do with leading by example, supporting each other, and finding opportunities amidst challenges. I have believed that everyone has their own worries, struggles and successes, and that my own are not diminished because there are those whose worries and struggles seem so much deeper and daunting or whose successes so much harder earned. I recognize my experience is my own, but I still think there is a lot that is relatable and supportive of others’ experiences. In the area of racial injustice, I feel lost. My current worries, struggles, and successes do seem diminished in the context of what others find themselves up against. But I think it’s important that this comparative suffering doesn’t keep me silent for fear of further insensitivity. I may not know the best thing (or even the better thing) to say yet, but in speaking, I can have the chance to listen and I can learn. With this in mind, it is heartening to see the impact of this injustice being felt worldwide and the voices being lifted from all corners of the globe. This is not just a local issue, and not just a national issue but a global one. And it’s largeness feels entirely overwhelming.

I guess this is where those stages of grief from my original post may provide some helpful landmarks. Many of us find ourselves in the lands of denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and even acceptance. These are important guideposts on the journey to recognizing, labeling, understanding, and acting against racial injustice. But I believe it is the need for meaning that has the greatest potential for change.

In my own meaning-making, which is in its infancy, I find myself thinking about diversifying our children’s and our adult bookshelves with stories that represent wider perspectives, backgrounds, and contexts. We have made some efforts in this area with regard to LGBTQ literature and are proud when our kids are quick to notice that the school’s puberty video only references feelings around male-female relationships. But I’m ashamed to notice that we have merely two picture books with primarily Black characters and not many more books about the Black American experience. What about our dolls? Game pieces? Art on our walls? No wonder we don’t have many conversations around race. What would spark it?

As I continue to think about my next steps, in terms of conversations within my own family and community, I will definitely be digging deeper into online resources and tools that are geared towards supporting these conversations and deepening understanding of the experiences of others in our world. But for now, here is a starting list:

From Common Sense Media:

• How White Parents can use Media to Raise Anti-Racist Kids (within there are lists to Coretta Scott King book award winners as well as links to Black media outlets like The Root, and other great resources and ideas for being more informed consumers of media)
• Talking to Kids about Racism and Racial Violence
• Social Justice Resources for Educators
  

Trevor Noah’s heartfelt and clearly explained thoughts about the current state of society

Embracerace has great resources and articles for families

Teaching Tolerance also has great resources for educators