Recently someone on twitter asked writers what is one thing they are really good at that their readers may not know. In the moment, I couldn’t think of anything, so I kept scrolling. But later I realized, because of all the words I share, you may not know—I am a really good listener.
Listening, for me is like a superpower.
Not that I always do it perfectly. But for some reason, there is something about me that makes people feel comfortable sharing information about their lives with me. Especially, if they don’t know me at all.
The first time I realized this, I was on a train. I was on my way home from college to see my family, and a girl around my age sat next to me. Before I knew it, she was telling me all about her life struggles. And, being only nineteen, I began panicking inside because I didn’t know how to help her.
But, I listened.
Last year, Tony and I were invited to a cookout at one of his co-worker’s homes. It was a great party. We stayed most of the night. But just as we were figuring out how to politely say our goodbyes, I met this woman. Within five minutes of introductions, she was telling me about losing her daughter a few years before. By now, I’ve learned that sometimes it’s enough just to have someone listen to you. So I sat with her for a while, and was present to her story.
Sometimes it’s enough just to have someone listen to you.
But perhaps the most memorable of all these impromptu meetings with strangers, was the conversation I had a few years ago with Eric,* who was hired by our complex to change the filter in our furnace. Usually, the maintenance men our complex sends are quiet and sullen. But Eric was kind and outgoing, so we struck up a conversation.
It was mere weeks after the shooting of Michael Brown. Demonstrations had erupted in Ferguson. And somehow, we found ourselves talking about racism in our country. Me, a White woman, and Eric, a Black man, stood in my living room and talked about the rising tensions in our country. Then he shared with me some of his experiences.
Though I can drive around my town freely without a thought, those living nearby—who don’t look like me—don’t feel as free. Their lives aren’t as simple, fair, or valued.
He told me about the time he was almost arrested a few houses down from his home, because the policeman thought he couldn’t possibly live in that White neighborhood. Or about the time he got pulled over because he was driving an expensive car that he owned.
Eric lived within twenty minutes of where I live.
Between what happened in Ferguson, and my conversation with this good man, it became strikingly clear that Michael Brown’s story wasn’t a “one-off” situation. That though I can drive around my town freely without a thought, those living nearby—who don’t look like me—don’t feel as free. Their lives aren’t as simple, fair, or valued.
Yet they are just as precious.
Last week, a third story in about just as many weeks, circulated the internet of a black person who died at the hands of those who’ve sworn to protect their neighborhoods. As a White police officer kept his knee to his neck, George Floyd gasped his last breath while begging for his life. He was arrested for trying to use a potentially counterfeit bill.
Previous surveillance video from mere minutes before, shows Floyd being compliant. He was unarmed. So, how did things escalate in a matter of minutes—to where an officer was suffocating him by putting his knee up against his neck?
Posting on social media doesn’t do anything if I’m not doing the work in real life within myself and with my neighbors.
All last week, I scrolled through post after post crying out against yet another injustice upon our black brothers and sisters. Inwardly, I felt sick. Only to repost what other people where saying didn’t feel like enough. Nor did it feel genuine. Because posting on social media doesn’t do anything if I’m not doing the work in real life within myself and with my neighbors. And nothing is going to change, if enough of us don’t get offline and bring this fight into the real world.
So today, I want to share where I am at in my own fight against racism:
I’m listening.
I am listening to and being present for the stories of those who live through the injustice of racism everyday. I’m following and learning from racial reconcilers online. When I can, I’m reading the books they’ve written. And I’m praying for my next move, because my Black friends and neighbors deserve so much more.
How have you felt as these stories continue to fill our news?
What is your next step in loving your neighbors well?
*Though as we’re learning, Eric’s story is far too common, I’ve changed his name for the sake of his privacy.
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Photo by Micheile Henderson on Unsplash
