The Lifelong Journey
Celestial & judicial matters, Okun's Ladder, a poem
Did you all know there’s a solar eclipse on Saturday? Or that the Yellowstone super volcano is maybe not going to kill everybody?
There’s also the supreme court outlawing LGBTQ discrimination in the workplace (woo!) and preventing the imminent repeal of DACA (double woo!).
Photo: Anna Moneymaker for The New York Times
That’s it for good news, really. The outpouring of grief and rage about the ongoing murder of people of color by law enforcement isn’t exactly good news. “Mostly appropriate reaction to violence” is too low a bar for celebration, even in the year we’re having.
But it is a cause for hope.
This month, I have a piece of curriculum to share. If, like me, you are intentionally seeking ways to grow as an ally, you might find it helpful.
OKUN’S LADDER
Today, I want to talk about Tema Okun’s ladder, a model that frames a white person’s process of moving from racism to anti-racism as a journey through a series of psychological stages.
You start at the bottom and work to move upward (it’s a ladder!), moving, along the way, from ignorance, to guilt, to taking responsibility, to allying with community in pursuit of structural change. Like Kübler-Ross’s stages of grief, it attempts to bring clarity and points of reflection to the messy-feeling, confusing experience of progressing to an understanding of a difficult truth.
Take a look at the full thing here:
There are a number of things that I like about this model. One is that it takes as a given that we all start at the bottom. No infant is born with a pre-existing knowledge of how racial power structures operate, so everyone begins in ignorance, and experience moves us up and down.
It’s also critical that the ladder doesn’t describe a linear progress. You may lose a rung or two, and likely will: even if I work towards anti-racist action, that doesn’t mean I’m not capable of making mistakes, of being self-righteous, or of feeling pricks of guilt—it’s a part of the process.
I find this ladder most helpful as a self-awareness tool—it’s hard to use as a road map (“Next week I’ll feel shame.”), but it brings a retrospective clarity to a common experience, helping us to process it both internally and with others, and facilitating more collective progress and (hopefully) not as much backsliding.
And when I need it, the ladder helps me identify the negative feelings associated with white fragility (“but I’m not racist! It’s not my fault!”) as a necessary part of the larger process of coming to realize that racism doesn’t exist in our culture as a personal choice, or as a matter of meanness, but as the water we swim in—an inherited system that it takes work to see (particularly if you benefit from it) and even more work to dismantle.
“THIS WORK IS HARD, BUT IT CAN BE JOYFUL”
The woman who first showed me this curriculum said that, and it has stayed with me.
Confronting your own participation in white supremacy might not always feel great. It probably shouldn’t. But moving towards community, real community, towards a more just world—it’s hard to think of a worthier labor.
And there’s joy in that.
SOMETIMES I MISS TEACHING
With NOLS work on pause, I’m not currently teaching, and the events of this spring have made me long for that role. Shepherding difficult conversations is a meaningful way to contribute to the cause, I think.
This tweet made me miss teaching in in a totally different way:
The kids, god love ‘em, remain vicious .
A POEM
To round out the dispatch, I got you a poem by Cornelius Eady, who is currently teaching at Stony Brook University.
A Small Moment
I walk into the bakery next door
To my apartment. They are about
To pull some sort of toast with cheese
From the oven. When I ask:
What’s that smell? I am being
A poet, I am asking
What everyone else in the shop
Wanted to ask, but somehow couldn’t;
I am speaking on behalf of two other
Customers who wanted to buy the
Name of it. I ask the woman
Behind the counter for a percentage
Of her sale. Am I flirting?
Am I happy because the days
Are longer? Here’s what
She does: She takes her time
Choosing the slices. “I am picking
Out the good ones,” she tells me. It’s
April 14th. Spring, with five to ten
Degrees to go. Some days, I feel my duty;
Some days, I love my work.
Pretty good, right? You can read more of his work here, and you may or may not also enjoy this guy.
STAY SAFE OUT THERE, FRIENDS
It’s Juneteenth, so check to see if your community has a protest, march, or celebration planned. You can also donate here or here.
Wear your masks, wash your hands, and love on each other.
We’ll be up to the same.