“Baby Talk” Transcript from ZERO TO THREE Conference Presentation, Fort Lauderdale, FL 2019 Delivered By Nikki Darling-Kuria 10/11/2019
Juliette Hampton Morgan was a white librarian and civil rights activist in Montgomery, Alabama. Her first public statements regarding social justice issues came in 1932 when she spoke out in defense of motherhood and special training for women, such as home economics classes, and extended her support for creating a federal department of child welfare.
While coming from wealth, Juliette suffered from severe anxiety and she was unable to drive her car, so she took public transportation. One incident, in particular, made Juliette angry. She witnessed an African American woman proceeding with the custom of the time: she paid her fare in the front of the bus, exited, and proceeded to the rear door to get on the back of the bus. On this occasion, however, the bus driver sped away as the woman tried to re-enter. Fed up, Juliette jumped to her feet and pulled the emergency cord, stopping the bus. She yelled at the driver and demanded that he let the woman back on. Juliette Morgan would continue to repeat this action whenever necessary for the next several years.
On December 1, 1955, Rosa Parks was arrested after refusing to give up her seat and move to the back of a Montgomery city bus. Eleven days later, on December 12, Juliette wrote another letter to the editor of the Montgomery Advertiser in support of Ms. Parks and the boycott that followed. She stated in her letter:
The Negroes of Montgomery seem to have taken a lesson from Gandhi... Their own task is greater than Gandhi's however, for they have greater prejudice to overcome. One feels that history is being made in Montgomery these days... It is hard to imagine a soul so dead, a heart so hard, a vision so blinded and provincial as not to be moved with admiration at the quiet dignity, discipline, and dedication with which the Negroes have conducted their boycott.
Despite getting death threats and threats of losing her job, constant harassment, and threats to family and friends, Juliette continued to write letters to the editor believing that her words would urge other whites to follow their moral compass and stand up to the white racist establishment in Montgomery. Sadly, on July 16, 1957, at the age of 43, Juliette was found lifeless next to an empty pill bottle and a note that read “I am not going to cause any more trouble to anybody.”
Here we are in 2019 and the racial divide is still omnipresent despite living in a world that is growing increasingly more diverse. The Associated Press is running a series on how Americans are more divided than ever--gridlocked over social issues, race, gender, and the economy. And it doesn’t seem like it’s going to ease anytime soon.
According to the Pew Research Center, the country's racial profile will be vastly different by 2055. Whites will remain the single largest racial group in the US, but they will no longer be the majority. Growth in the Hispanic and Asian populations in the US is predicted to almost triple over the next 40 years. By 2055, the breakdown is estimated to be 48% White, 24% Hispanic, 14% Asian, and 13% Black.
In 1963, Dr. King said, “Privileged groups seldom give up their privileges voluntarily.” So, while whites are on track to be in the minority in 40 years, the historical advantages they have enjoyed will continue to shape the social, political, and economic landscapes for generations to come. In the same way, historical oppression will continue to plague the minority groups of the past. This is why diversity allies are needed as much now as when Juliette Morgan pulled the emergency cord on that bus more than 60 years ago.
Today, thanks to the hard work of the legions of civil rights activists who have paved the way for social justice, we have a clear definition of what being an ally is. A diversity ally is anyone who actively promotes and aspires to advance the culture of inclusion through intentional, positive and conscious efforts that benefit all people as a whole.
Allies know that their job isn’t to speak for other people. It’s to create a safe space so that others can have an opportunity to speak for themselves. An ally can lift others up by advocating for equity for diverse families, and recognizing the hard work, sacrifices, and risks these families have already undertaken on their own behalf. Allies recognize that equity is not a zero-sum game. Equal rights for all do not mean less rights for some. This isn’t pie. When there is equity, there is enough for everyone.
I am very sensitive to the fact that some words can carry a much bigger meaning than the word alone conveys. So, when I say, “if you chose to become an ally,” I am aware that it is privilege speaking. As a white person, it’s my choice to get involved. A non-white person might not have a choice whether to get involved or not because their safety or livelihood could be at risk if they did nothing.
Before I continue, I want to be completely transparent about why I feel like this is a subject I am qualified to speak about. It is not because I consider myself anymore of an expert than anyone of you. I do hold advanced degrees in Human Development and Social Justice, but so do lots of people. My job requires me to translate science into meaningful information to share with audiences who can use this information to improve their knowledge and skills and this talk is no different. So, I’m going to share my thoughts about becoming an ally that has been derived from evidence-informed and diversity-informed practice, with my own personal life experience peppered in.
What does it take to become an ally? The first thing I’d say is be sure you’re up for it. It’s not like you can say, “I have a few extra hours a week. I can dedicate that time to being a diversity ally.” It’s not the same as joining a gym and thinking, “If I work-out three times a week that should be enough to make a difference.” The problem with this type of thinking is that it seems like a great idea in January, but by March the enthusiasm has all but vanished.
No, this type of commitment is different. It must become a part of your identity…your being… because you never know when or where or how your involvement might be needed. Now, keep in mind, you won’t get a merit badge or even learn a secret handshake because while some allies are publicly visible activists, others go about their business without drawing any attention to themselves because that’s the right thing to do.
Becoming an ally begins by building an awareness of how different people experience the same world differently. Especially when someone is experiencing discrimination or is any way disadvantaged based on those differences.
No one is asking you to start with a huge leap off a steep cliff. You can make small changes that will eventually add up to big ones. So, start with the basics like being a good listener. When you’re ready to act, think about the medical profession’s Hippocratic Oath of “First, Do no harm.” When you consider how you are engaging with different people, try asking yourself, “who is disadvantaged when I behave this way?” And if it’s too late for that because you’ve already offended someone or didn’t do all you could, find the courage to speak with a member of the community you let down and ask, “how can I do better?”
When you do this, you’ll have to be genuine and authentic because if you’re not, people will see through you. They will be suspicious of your intentions and reluctant to listen if you have not shown them you care about what they have to say.
ZERO TO THREE, the organization hosting this conference and the one I am proud and honored to work for, have long supported the Irving B Harris Diversity-Informed Tenets for Work with Infants, Children, and Families. Specifically, there are 10 tenets that frame best practices for engaging in diversity informed work. I am going to focus on the first one.
Tenet 1. Self-Awareness Leads to Better Services for Families
The tenet reads, “Working with infants, children, and families requires all individuals, organizations, and systems of care to reflect on our own culture, values, and beliefs, and on the impact that racism, classism, sexism, ableism, homophobia, xenophobia, and other systems of oppression have had on our lives in order to provide diversity-informed, culturally attuned services.”
How does this self-awareness work? Let’s say I do that and reflect on my own culture, values, and beliefs and what impact systems of oppression have had on my life. What will I find? I mean, I’m just a white girl from Utah what do I know?
After several decades of education and experience in social justice, I’ve had a lot of time to examine my life. Let me tell you what I would be able to find.
By being self-aware I was able to recognize my privilege. Because of the color of my skin and being born in the United States, I am afforded many privileges that are not earned, based on merit, or need. I just get them for being. While I didn’t ask for these, I have them and I have a responsibility to not take them for granted or deny the impact they have had on my life. This doesn’t mean my life has been without struggles. But while I might have 99 problems, being white isn’t one of them.
By being self-aware I was able to understand areas of my life where parts of my identity had granted me privilege or caused oppression. For example, I am a white woman (that’s the privilege). But I am also a white woman (that’s the oppression). Through an understanding of this intersectionality, I can see where my disadvantage ends, and my privilege begins. But this isn’t the oppression Olympics. My disadvantages are not weighted and scored against anyone else’s. They are not currency I can use to buy my way into the “who’s got it worse” club. Every individual’s experiences are uniquely their own. And through self-awareness, I can appreciate where my journey has taken me, even if no one else will ever know just by looking at me.
Couldn’t that be said of any human being? You can’t tell just by looking at someone what kind of life they’ve had. But we know enough to know that if they are a part of the non-dominate culture if they look different than almost everyone else in the room if their sexual orientation or gender identification differs from ours, we should pause and ask ourselves “is it possible that I am contributing to a culture that is putting this person at a disadvantage?” If the answer is yes. Change that.
The more I practiced self-awareness the more I was able to recognize systemic oppression and realize the impact of microaggressions. I recall having a conversation once with a white man where I was sharing a story of a family who was ignored in a restaurant and I said to him, “You have no idea what it’s like to be ignored by a server because of the color of your skin.” He considered this for a moment and then he asked it. “Have you?”
His question stopped me cold. Actually, no. I had never had that experience when I was alone. It had happened before when I was with my husband. But never when I had been alone. So even though I believed I had “experienced” this act of racism, my skin color wasn’t the reason and therefore it wasn’t my shame or my humiliation. I dropped my head and quietly uttered, “No. No, I haven’t”. He tossed his hands in the air appearing vindicated that his point had been made. And I realized mine had completely missed the mark. That’s what microaggressions do. They are ugly insults that build and build over time until they have become weaponized to keep the balance of power solidly in the hands of the racial, gender, and socio-economic majority.
This experience made me realize how many white people don’t believe disadvantaged people’s experiences. I began to think that it wasn’t going to be enough to only accept this uncomfortable truth myself. I needed to help people who discounted or ignored the truths of others to become aware of the culture of oppression they were contributing to. I figured the only way to do this was to infiltrate places where these people might be, for example, the sidelines of the playground where all the white moms were hanging out.
Prior to my experience as a mother, I never had anyone tell me that when I felt slighted or overlooked and suspected it was because I was a girl or a fat girl, that I must be confused or misreading the situation. But when I would tell other white women about the unbelievable things my children would experience, they would tilt their head with a confused look and say, “Really? That doesn’t sound right. Does that even still happen?” I would stare back in utter disbelief.
I just told you that when my 16-year old daughter told her advanced placement math teacher, in the gifted program, that she was joining the Navy when she graduated and the teacher said, “Well, I guess even the Navy needs someone to mop the floor” you’re telling me we misunderstood what the teacher was saying? Or worse, I shouldn’t believe what my daughter told me?
When someone tells you they, or their child, was bullied because they are brown, or black, or took dance lessons when boys aren’t supposed to you, you look them in the eye and say, “That sounds…really…hard. I’m sorry that happened to you.”
It didn’t take long to realize that being an ally requires a lot of practice. To help make this practice meaningful I learned to use a cycle of listen, support, self-reflect, and change. I didn’t need to change the world. I just needed to start with myself.
I’m going to warn you, it won’t be easy. Some days it might feel exhausting. That’s fair to say, it should be acknowledged. But it’s nothing compared to what others experience on a daily basis for no other reason than because of where they were born, the color of their skin or who they love. Things no one should be punished for, ever.
Being an ally can’t only happen when the circumstances allow for you to have the upper hand and have success in turning a situation around. More often than not you will be called upon when it makes you really, really uncomfortable, and feel woefully inadequate and like a complete phony. Because somewhere in the middle of all of those emotions is where change happens. It’s in that space where “Self-Awareness Leads to Better Services for Families.”
So, who is this white girl from Utah? Let me tell you who I am.
I am a motherless daughter saying the long goodbye to my aging father. Raised in a home open to others with whom we can be friends; black, gay, Latino. But we do not marry them.
I am the one who left that home at age 18 to travel across the country to a place opposite everything I had ever known so that I could grow into the person I was meant to be.
I am married to a black immigrant from Africa, wed more than 30 years—that’s more than half my life. A mother of bi-racial children--1 gay, 2 queer, all amazing.
I am the mother who has had to have “the talk” with my kids about not wearing their hoodie up, not talking too loudly, or drawing attention to themselves. When they get pulled over, because they will get pulled over for driving while black, always place your hands in plain sight, be more polite than the situation calls for because you will always be responsible for making white people feel comfortable around you and never the other way around.
I am the mother who weeps because my white privilege is of no use to my children. Even though I have 2 daughters, I will never know how they struggle as women of color. And my black son, my baby boy, is three times as likely to be killed by the people who are there to protect and serve. His guilt or innocence is irrelevant.
Educated in social justice, I am a warrior for those whose fight needs more fighters. A war on mental health, on poor people instead of poverty, on women, of people of color, the entire LGBTQ community, immigrants seeking a better life for their children, those who are differently-abled, and those educated outside of classrooms.
I am half the sky, a sister to mankind. If I can become an ally, so can you
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