I had to venture to the grocery store today. I have been to this store countless times before. But this time, I felt sensations and reactions inside me that I have never felt before. And not merely due to the need for social distancing. Simply because of my ethnic heritage. A week ago, just down the street from where I live, close to this store, two women accosted an older Asian gentleman on a running path. They brandished a log, saying "Go back to China!" and spat at him. It's no surprise that racism exists everywhere. But it's still unnerving.

To follow up on my thread from Friday, a few more comments. It seems to be quite fashionable now in many circles & contexts to say you're an advocate for POC. It's even profitable now in some spaces. And so, natch, more people say that this is a conviction/passion of theirs. Perhaps it is a genuine conviction and passion, and of course we need more white folks to have a heart for greater equity, representation, and reparation for POC. But forgive me if I don't completely trust people who don't have a track record in this area who suddenly care now.

When a white person says he/she is an advocate for people of color, I need to know: 1) Who are your closest friends, mentors, and advisors? Are they all or mostly white? 2) Do you have a track record of elevating voices of color and how far does it go back? 3) What experiences do you have of listening to POC, quelling your own voice, and making room for them? 4) Have you experienced critique from POC, and how have you handled those experiences--with humility or with defensiveness?

Seems like there is confusion about this: being white is not a sin in and of itself. But whiteness—the elevation and the valuation of those who are white above all other racial groups, and the systems and structures that support it—is 100 percent evil, through and through. For more than 280 characters on this topic, I highly recommend three @ivpress books in particular. First up, #WhiteAwake by @danielhill1336 ivpress.com/white-awake