Hey all, we’re in day ∞ of quarantine times. How’s everyone doing? Things are slowly (or not so slowly, depending on where you are) reopening. I definitely have some anxiety around how we’re proceeding and the lack of clarity or guidelines on what we can do. Best case scenario is we continue with safety measures (wear a mask, wash your hands), social distancing and the numbers keep going down. Worst case scenario, we see a spike and yo-yo back and forth for years to come.
The past couple weeks have been a struggle. On top of pandemic fatigue, news of Ahmaud Arbery’s death shook many and sparked a greater conversation around divisions, safety and diversity (or the lack thereof) in running. But for many BIPOC runners, this is not a new conversation. It’s been one we’ve been trying to get the mainstream to take seriously for a while.
Now that we’ve run our 2.23 miles in Ahmaud’s honour, what are we going to do next? The two men who killed him have been arrested but that is hardly justice. Justice is not an arrest made 74 days later after a video surfaced and outcry on social media. Justice would have been immediate attention and action. Justice would be Ahmaud alive, celebrating his 26th birthday anonymously with his family and friends, not becoming a trending hashtag.
I've been thinking a lot about what allyship and solidarity really mean. True solidarity is caring about issues beyond what directly affects us. A recent discussion Black Women Radicals had with the Asian American Feminist Collective on feminist solidarities featured a speaker, Senti Sojwal, who had this to say:
“Solidarity requires us to ask ourselves, 'What are my privileges? How can I use them for other people? What does it mean to take up space? How can I learn about when I should be taking up space and when I should be relinquishing it? How can I use my voice to amplify the voices of others?' And fundamentally, I think solidarity means we understand that we don't necessarily need to have a personal relationship to a person or cause to take up action against what oppresses them.”
These questions are even more pressing and relevant now during the pandemic as we witness gross inequalities. Solidarity is relationship-building and difficult work. If we truly want to be anti-oppressive, it requires us to put work into educating ourselves, our families, our skinfolk, to move towards dismantling systems of white supremacy, misogyny, transphobia, capitalism, ableism and a whole host of other -isms.
It also requires us to be uncomfortable. Runners are so willing to face discomfort in the pursuit of our race goals, why shouldn't we also consider being uncomfortable if we want a better world? We have to examine our own privileges—something we all possess to varying degrees. We have multiple identities and with that we carry numerous burdens and privileges. The question is, how can we use our privileges to move towards creating a more just and equitable world? Based on my gender and race, sometimes people say things to me when I’m out running. Those comments ruin my run, but I return home alive. No one assumes I’m a criminal. They try to put me in my place in other ways, but I am allowed to exist. The discrimination I face is interconnected with the beliefs that left Ahmaud dead. We exist in a system designed to benefit some and kill others. Just look at which communities are disproportionately impacted by coronavirus.
Solidarity requires decentring. I can hurt and I can grieve alongside those that are directly impacted, but it isn't about me or my feelings. It's important to consider, how do I support and hold space for others? Because I can, either with the emotional capacity or the means or the platforms to do so.
Privilege also mean shouldering responsibilities. Beyond posting hashtags, some important questions we should ask ourselves are, “Am I willing to be uncomfortable in order to elevate others and raise awareness? Am I willing to see beyond my own experience? Am I willing to speak up and advocate for those that have been silenced, gaslit or ignored? Am I willing to support others (vocally, financially or emotionally, to the best of my ability) when they are doing the work?”
As a first-generation child of Asian immigrants to North America, I am in a unique position. When I'm not ignored, I'm used as a pawn in the model-minority myth. I have benefited from my proximity to whiteness and yet, I will never be white no matter how “well-integrated” I am. I’m still considered an other. I don’t see myself represented in media beyond stereotypes or relegated to a sidekick role. It’s even clearer now as we enter an era where Asians are being targeted and blamed for the global pandemic. The Yellow Peril fear has returned. The racism I’ve experienced is casual yet very specific. A remark here, a joke there. I liken it to mosquito bites. They are insistent and irritating. It builds over time; one bite won’t kill me but each one is still poison.
Some folks don’t see running as political, but it depends on who you ask. For many BIPOC folks, how can it not be? Most things are, depending on the angle you’re viewing it from. Running has long been presented as a democratic sport; one only needs shorts and a pair of shoes to lace up, and out the door they go. The reality is, it hasn't been as simple as that. Certain voices and perspectives get amplified, others get snuffed out or ignored, others are deemed angry or downright dangerous. Look at any industry and you’ll see the ways it mirrors wider societal problems. Who gets paid more? Who gets more air time and opportunities? Why are certain communities left out or an afterthought? Why do so many running or “wellness” panels feature all-white experts? It bears repeating: Gender parity does not mean diversity.
The two arrests in Ahmaud’s death are just the beginning. We have yet to see what happens at the trial and how to move forward together. Breonna Taylor’s shooting death by police happened shortly after Ahmaud’s yet there hasn’t been as much attention around it. Clearly there’s still a lot that needs to be done. Long after the hashtags have been forgotten, the posts have faded and the news cycle has moved on, the real work begins. Allyship is active, continual labour. The running community loves the saying, “It’s a marathon, not a sprint.” Maybe it’s time to apply that philosophy to an anti-oppressive practice.
Fuel for the mind
Harlem Run’s Alison Desir wrote an important piece about Ahmaud Arbery’s death and how the whiteness of the running community is a reflection of greater systemic racism. Flotrack also has an interview with Alison where they discuss race, safety and running. Faith E. Briggs wrote an excellent piece on doing more than just running for Ahmaud but acknowledging ongoing injustices and not staying silent. “The most apparently egalitarian exercise of all, running, is anything but — especially when it comes to race.” A Q&A with Diverse We Run’s Carolyn Su. “This is not about running,” Olympian Michael Johnson on Ahmaud Arbery. If you ran for Ahmaud, you need to stand with Breonna Taylor and make sure there is justice for her partner, Kenneth Walker. This episode of The Rambling Runner with Heavy: Am American Memoir author Kiese Laymon is worth a listen. Jia Tolentino on the radical history and potential of mutual aid. One M.T.A conductor’s reflection on how workers are being treated: “We are not essential. We are sacrificial.” How Hong Kong citizens took their own health and safety into their own hands when their government failed them. Where has all the flour gone? If you’re going to churn your own butter next, get some tips from this monsieur. The number of anti-Asian attacks and harassment has gone up and most of that ire is directed towards women. This website features some resources on how to take care of your mental health during COVID-19. Alicia Kennedy has a very good take on the Alison Roman - Chrissy Teigen - Marie Kondo controversy as does Preeti Mistry on Andrew Talks to Chefs. Fourteen ways of finding joy.
Fuel for the ears
Always love and appreciate Anni’s playlists including this new one. græ, Moses Sumney’s intimate new album lives in-between spaces, veering from jazz to art-pop. Art Farmer’s 1955 album Farmer’s Market has been an excellent writing soundtrack lately. Anri’s 1983 Timely is also great for working from home. In case you need to relive the Jill vs. Erykah Verzus “battle”, here’s a playlist of the songs played. What a month. RIP Florian Schneider of Kraftwerk. Rest in power, Betty Wright. Rest easy, Little Richard. (Love Little Richard, but Sister Rosetta Tharpe is THE prototype of rock ‘n’ roll. )Thank you and rest easy, Tony Allen. Happy birthday, Stevie Wonder! Happy birthday, Ms. Jackson! Lido Pimienta’s Miss Columbia is a symbolic reclamation.
Happy Asian Heritage Month!
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