Who we don’t yell at in public and why

One of the most frustrating aspects about growth is how we must challenge our own learned behaviors, no matter how cherished or right they might feel to us.

As I was thinking about the repeating patterns I’m seeing again after five years, something I’m keenly aware of lately is the righteous zeal on persecuting and prosecuting women of color in positions of power.

When I was a young organizer, I led with passion and righteous anger. What I didn’t realize then is how much of that passion and anger was being channeled into misogyny and internalized racism. What came out whenever I was confronted about it was a defensive posture and belief that other people of color in power should “know better.” It never occurred to me that other communities of color have different understandings of societal priorities.

For some cultures and communities, the acquisition of wealth is a means to secure generational future. In others, having a stainless reputation was paramount. I had forgotten that in my own, discretion is how we measure respect for those we care most deeply about. And it never occurred to me that publicly yelling at other people of color—particularly women of color—is how I shut the door behind me on all the progress I had made as an organizer.

In my early thirties, patient and kind folks across the gender spectrum helped me to unlearn my own misogyny and internalized racism. I went from one cultural modality to multiple cultural modalities and the only thing I lost was my certainty that I was right no matter what. And when I start to lose the idea that my way was the right way, the more willing I was to collaborate different people to approach and craft solutions that were multi-pronged and had ripple effects across time.

This is all to say that in these times where we feel justifiably under threat, it doesn’t do to take the fight to our friends under the guise of “accountability” when the very concept of “accountability” was taught to us by Christians rooted in Puritanism. The greatest antidote I learned was to ask myself if by one word, I actually meant another. Do I mean “accountability,” or do I mean “punishment”?

I go back to my basic training of being a good relative. In my culture, if we do have conflict with people we care about enough to say something, we do so privately, calmly and with care, out of the sight of others. If they choose to keep doing what they’re doing, then we can be satisfied that we’ve done all we can to be a good relative.