What can I say?

I’m not gonna lie, I’ve had a really hard time figuring out what to write here. The thing is, I don’t read many blogs.

Any blogs. Ok, I don’t read any blogs.

I always thought of blogs as something from the late nineties that involved self-righteousness and soap boxes. I keep having to remind myself that the point of this particular blog, the reason I started it, is not to be perfect or even necessarily provide solutions, but to build connection. To pose questions and open a conversation. To be honest about my doubts. To think out loud, but hold myself accountable to those thoughts by putting them out in the (internet) world.

All of which is to say: I once again ask your indulgence as I navigate this new territory.

I had a million ideas about what to write, and a dozen half finished drafts, but it - of course - feels tone deaf, irresponsible and ridiculous to write anything right now that doesn’t reflect on the pain, fear, hope, despair and massive social upheaval happening in the United States. It’s been gut-wrenching to sit in Cape Town watching events play out in the streets of cities I’ve lived in, and to not be a part of it. To feel at once disconnected from and heartbroken by it.

I acknowledge how selfish that sounds. 

At the same time, I’m battling the hesitation that my white privilege affords me. What can I possibly say that would add to the conversation? What right do I have? What do I even know? Especially since I’ve lived outside the States for most of my adult life, and have only lived in Cape Town for a year and a half, I don’t feel qualified to speak about the US or South Africa.

But aren’t these just versions of the excuses many of us are using right now? When, afraid of doing the wrong thing, or not doing enough, we do nothing at all? And doesn’t that all add up to a deafening silence where there should be a roar?

Worst of all, I think many of us in the humanitarian field are somehow exempting ourselves, skirting around honest conversations about race precisely because of the kind of work we do. Hugo Slim’s recent article makes a more coherent argument than I’m capable of at the moment:

“I wonder if racism is at the root of why we can’t ‘let go‘ of our international power…and genuinely enable people and power in local organisations and national governments…Promises that a quarter of international humanitarian finance should go directly to national and local organisations are nowhere near being realised by donor governments and their international intermediaries. This cannot simply be because it is difficult…

…Frontline experience may make humanitarians discount the significance of our own racism because we so see so much of it in others. But, here, we have to be very careful to avoid a white conceit that says that our racism is not as bad as theirs. We must not look away from our own racism.”

These conversations and debates are not new, and I’m not the first to write about them. I’m just giving voice to thoughts I’ve had for years. The question is: what do we DO?

I admit I’m a little overwhelmed with the glut resources of available right now, but this four-point Blueprint for Black Lives Matter in the development sector struck me as an actionable starting place for teams and organizations.

So let’s start.

Postscript: Since I’m usually taking part in protests, I can’t say I’ve ever searched for stock footage of them (as I did for this post). I sincerely hope it’s a reflection of my own inability that most images I found around Black Lives Matter featured white faces and hands, but I suspect not.