October 2020: The Privilege of Surprise
In June of 2017 I was attending a writers workshop in Aspen, CO. One night we all gathered in a fancy bar for a reading and panel discussion with some of the writers teaching that week. Even to remember being in a bar with people so close, without masks on, has become a strange companion to memories from the before times. But what sticks out to me from that night is that once the conversation turned to the election, once writers began talking about the political climate and what could we do and on and on, one of the poets - the great Jericho Brown - said that he was tired of people being surprised, of people who could have the privilege of surprise.
It was one of those moments that made me sit up a little straighter, lean in, turn the phrase over and over. I was one of those people who had the privilege of surprise - the shock, the rage, the despair. In the aftermath of the 2016 presidential election I remember a Black comedian on Twitter posting a short video: “The way you’re all feeling right now is the way Black people feel in America every day,” she said. “Welcome.”
This has been the uncomfortable place from which I’ve been trying to see the state of things: viewing our country without the privilege of surprise. If a country is founded on white supremacy, on slavery and genocide, then a country will eventually have to reckon with the rot within this foundation.
Such ideas have only become available to me because of the teachings and writings of so many Black leaders and Black women in particular. Sometimes I’m overwhelmed by how much more I’ve learned from the 1619 Project, or The Warmth of Other Suns by Isabel Wilkerson, or The Me & White Supremacy workbook by Layla F. Saad, or Sonya Renee Taylor’s Instagram - more than anything I learned in school. The question I ask myself daily now is what my role is in ending white supremacy, which will include sacrificing the many, many benefits I get from living in a white supremacist society. What does it look like to integrate antiracism work into my life? How can I do the work without getting bogged down in white guilt or white shame?
Last week I drove through Delaware and noted how many signs there were for Trump. Along Route 1 there was a Trump sign every two miles. On people’s houses there were Trump flags and Trump banners tied to garages, and in front of one house, a 10 foot tall homemade sign thanking Trump. All of this in Biden’s home state.
Yesterday a friend forwarded me a New York Times article about a “secret Trump voter” - it profiled an anonymous 50 year old white lesbian who is voting for Trump because she’s never seen her 401K perform so well; she didn’t believe Chrissy Blaisey Ford’s testimony against Kavanaugh; she doesn’t care that Trump is a blatant misogynist. And why would she? I didn’t read the article with the privilege of surprise - there will always be racist lesbians, selfish lesbians, lesbians who sit in the comfort of white supremacy and shrug. They are the very Americans who got us to this point - the 55% of white women who voted for Trump.
I signed up to be a poll worker on election day. The first presidential election I ever participated in was the 2000 election, 13 days after my 18th birthday. I’ve written about this memory before - I voted alongside my father, who was also participating in his first election. After returning from Vietnam, he never bothered to vote, swore against the government. But in 2000 we drove to the polling station in our small town - in a county that voted for Clinton in 2016 by less than 25,000 votes - and we voted.
This year, when I told my dad that I had signed up to be a poll worker, he excitedly told me that he had as well in Tucson, AZ. Worried about my 71 year old father volunteering for democracy in a pandemic, he said he wouldn’t be around a lot of people - he would help to count the votes.
Voting will not end white supremacy - that work is going to continue for generations. When I write to you again in thirty days, it will be the week of the election. Between now and then, I’m making phone calls. I’m making donations. I’m steeling myself. I’m trying very hard not to fall back into the privilege of surprise.
xo,
c
P.S. - Here are just a few actions to take for justice and democracy right now:
Call your Senators to vote No on any Supreme Court nominee before Inauguration day
Donate to Fair Fight, a voter rights organization based out of Georgia working to ensure a safe and fair election across the country.
Support Sarah McBride, who is running for Senator in Delaware and would be the first trans Senator in history if elected
Support Jamie Harrison, who is running against Lindsey Graham in South Carolina
Sign up to help with phone banking or text banking for Biden/Harris 2020