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What will we create?

11/2/2020

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Hi Friends,

What are we going to create?

I’m not sure if we recognize it regularly, but we are creators. We create it all. Not the trees and the sky, per se, but indeed the life we live, the America we live in the world that our children, young people, and generations from now are inheriting and will inherit. And tomorrow we have the chance to either create it in a mindset of fear, or know the truth that as a powerful creator, the point of change starts with our minds and extends from there. Every single thing that we are doing right now - be it typing on our computer, reading this email, or drinking a cup of coffee - each one of those things started in a mind. Take the coffee for instance - the design of the cup…someone’s mind, the choice to taste coffee beans….someone’s mind, your want of coffee…your mind. Think about it, how many times have you decided that you “woke up on the wrong side of the bed” and thing after thing met you right where you were, on the “wrong” side? Even these systems of oppression like racism and classism…the first kernel of them - the need to keep power - was first created by someone’s mind and have morphed and grown into the behemoths that we challenge today. What if hope and possibility had the power to do that?  It does.

So, my question to you is, what are you going to create tomorrow. Tomorrow isn’t about changing the world, it’s about holding firm and solid in your knowledge of yourself as a creator. A creator of change, a creator of hope, a creator of light, a creator of peace, a creator of possibility, a creator of a world where no one has to do without, a creator of a world where people can see someone hurting and reach out rather than turn away, a creator of a country where we see our differences as things to dive into and understand - while valuing each human and being even in its difference. Sure, folks might say that you are a “Pollyanna” - I’ve been called that my whole life…but what I now know is that Pollyanna was a bad ass. She held firm in the face of negativity. She chose to see a possibility and a promise in what some might call darkness. Try that some time - it’s not easy. It’s like standing in a stream while the flow of water wants to carry you away. Tomorrow’s water will want to carry you. Decide what you will choose to be tomorrow, today. And stand in your knowing. I invite you to join we in a few practices tomorrow that will help remain in your knowing:


  1. I invite you to stay off of social media for the whole day (if you’re even on it). The pit of social media will not change outcomes. There are millions of other platforms to get your news and election information. And on a day like tomorrow, if anything it will only focus on anxiety. You will end up riding someone else’s wave. Choose to ride your own.
  2. I invite you to set an alarm for the top of every hour and spend 5 mins envisioning the world that you want to create. 5 mins. If 5 mins is too long, write down 5 different things at the top of each hour. Or write down the same 5 things every hour. Just join me each hour.
  3. Send a text checking on 10 different folks in your life tomorrow. And maybe send them a text that includes one of your envisioned statements of the world you want to see. Better yet, invite them into these invitations and have a buddy for the journey. Liberation loves buddies.
  4. If you have to check election results, do it only after you’ve done your five mins at the top of the hour. And set a timer and give yourself 5-10 mins. When the timer goes off, change the channel, choose a show or a movie to watch that allows your nervous system to rest and realign.
  5. If election results are not in by the time you usually go to sleep, go to sleep anyway. You watching the election results come in will not change anything, but your restful sleep will. Change comes with clear thinking, and clear thinking is fueled by rest.
  6. Pay attention to what your mind does. Tomorrow is one long meditation practice. When your mind goes to fear, anxiety, uncertainty, struggle…and on and on…bring yourself back to your breath. Ground in the present moment. Find something that is right in front of you (like your Southwest Airlines rubber ducky…is that just me?) that brings you joy. Breathe into the present moment.

Folks, we are creators. We have the ability to create a world that works for everyone. We do. We actually do. We first have to create a world in ourselves that moves through moments like this with presence and purpose.

Love always,
t.
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Dear Commission on Presidential Debates...

10/1/2020

1 Comment

 
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The Commission on Presidential Debates (https://www.debates.org) is a non-profit organizational body run by a board of directors.  After looking up some members of their board, I decided to send one of them an email (seriously!) and this is what it said:​

Hello Ms. Hernandez,
This is a bit of a shot in the dark, but I just wanted to give a try at a possibility for influence.  I looked up the Commission on Presidential Debates and read a little about the organization and the governing board and thought that I would reach out to you.  Who knows if you’ll receive this, or read it, or take it into consideration, but I thought I would try.

I really love the thought that our country gives candidates an opportunity stand up, state their beliefs and potentially defend mistruths that might be in the public belief system - but what our debates have become in the Presidential realm are far from that.   And it didn’t just start with the mockery of a debate that we saw this week.  Candidates have long talked over one another, interrupted each other and ignored the moderator.  We know if these debates were in a true debate competition, the candidates - both of them - would have been disqualified and escorted out of the building.  

I don’t think your change of rules in the debate format will help - it actually might escalate things because when someone is shutdown (in this form of having their mic turned off) there is the potential of having someone feel like they have no voice which might trigger a reaction of yelling.  This update to the format actually is a continued mockery of what is trying to be accomplished - to have the individual represent themselves, speak about their beliefs, values and plan for the country, and perhaps show themselves as an embodiment of the kind of leader we want to represent us in this democracy.

We need to see more than people yelling and talking over one another. We need to see more than people be silenced at the whim of an outside party.  We need to see more than even the presentation, defense, and redirection that debates provide. We need the example of dialogue.  We need to see our leaders consider what their opponent offers as a thought, the consideration and connection to that thought, and the presentation of a new idea or a question.  Dialogue actually can be a model that helps people understand that the fractures that we are experiencing in our nation is not all that has to exist.  Having been trained in dialogue, I know that something else is possible.  There are many of us in the national that know that dialogue is a form of communication that transforms.  Debate just gives the appearance of a fixed mindset.  Dialogue offers the opportunity for curiosity and consideration - both of which is what is needed and what needs to be modeled.  We need to see that the person with positional power in this country is more than someone who can deliver a quick retort, but rather model reflection, the ability to change their mind and hold the reality of complex thought.  Even more than their platforms, these are the skills that I want to see - their platforms tell me little of their skill and only slightly more of their values.  I expect more and need the commission to expect more, as well. 

Again, who knows if you will read this, but I wanted to give it a try.  Please feel free to reach out if you have further thoughts or questions.

take good care, 
Tanya Williams
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The Day After Juneteenth

6/21/2020

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As a Texan by birth celebrating Juneteenth has always been part of my life. Hand cranked ice cream, Grandaddy on the barbecue pit, red soda water. Potato Salad. Watermelon. Yesterday felt a little surreal for the little younger Tanya that exists inside.  As I talked with a friend on Friday -  the word to describe what I was feeling came to me.  Expansion.  My friend, when I felt stumped about how to describe the feeling I felt on Friday, wondered if it was like when you know about a band or musical artist for years without them being recognized widely.   Then the time finally comes where folks know them - having them hit “the big time”, everyone finally knowing about their magic, gift and skill.  Yeah.  It was something like that.


It was my joy to wish EVERYONE a Happy Juneteenth! EVERYONE. Without this holiday and the emancipation that we commemorate on this day, the United States and everyone in it would have a very different way of being. Not to say that the way of being we have now is where we settle in and get comfortable.  But it would have been vastly different.  As I watched White people wish me “Happy Juneteenth”, I wondered if they felt the importance of wishing themselves and other White people, the same.  Though that day, June 19, 1865 was not a liberation of the psychological, mental, or material impacts of slavery and its grandaddy, White Supremacy, it was a moment of catalyst for everyone in the United States.  Who would we be without it?  What would we look like as a nation without it?  Even with all that has yet to be transformed and changed, we need to all celebrate this day as a day of liberation and celebration.  And therefore use it as such.


I’ll be honest.  I want Juneteenth to be a holiday that is owned, directed and dictated by African Americans.  I know the grubby little hands of greed/lack based capitalism is already in its back rooms devising how to get more money out of this “new and shiny toy.”  And I will fight like the dickens to have it been seen as something more than that for the rest of my life.  I want it to be seen than more than just a chance to try on “Black culture” for a day - you know, eat some soul food, wear some Kente cloth, get your hair braided kind of try on.  And I want it to be more than just another history lesson where Black folks talk about how we got over.  Where we drudge up every movie of how a Black figure - struggled against the system to defeat it and has a smiling white child at the end asking for an autograph to help us understand that we’ve made it.  


Yes, it is a holiday whose catalyst was a moment in history, but the people who were emancipated that day only were around to be emancipated because they had been thinking about the future.  The blood that is running through my veins belonged to ancestors that honored history, but did not get stuck there.  They saw something out beyond and they worked in ways I can’t imagine to stay alive in unconscionable and horrific conditions so that I might put these words to the page.  We can honor the day most by thinking about Black Futures.  I will forever use this day to both read the narratives of enslaved ancestors and to dream about mine and others’ possibilities.


Part of the story of Black folks in the United States has been a story of waiting. Enslaved folks waited two years to get the news of their physical emancipation. I think we have internalized that in some harmful ways.  When my friend and I were talking on Friday, I wondered if my feeling was about feeling finally seen by White people in this way.  To have a day important to me, about the history of my people, acknowledging the truth of our struggle.  As I stated earlier, we’ve been celebrating Juneteenth for eons...for me it’s been a 48 years.  The celebration felt bigger on Friday, and I wondered if I had been caught in that same familiar manifestation of internalized racism, waiting to be seen and validated by whiteness and White people.  


On my long walk Saturday morning, every person that I passed got the head nod and hello, whether we caught eyes or not - whether they returned it or not.  It didn’t matter whether or not they saw me - the hello and head nod was for me.  I was in an energy of wanting to acknowledge every being that I encountered.  I realized I was not waiting to be seen, but I my hello was about me rather than it being about them.  Whether they saw my head nod “hello” or heard it - it didn’t matter.  I wasn’t waiting to be seen.  It was great if they witnessed the hello, but it was still there whether they saw it or not.  


There is a different energy in waiting to be seen, as opposed to being witnessed.  To be seen -  you’ve given all of your power over to someone else.  You’re waiting for them to see you to give you worthiness and their notice of you gives you worth and meaning.  In the witnessing, the power is retained and you are inviting others to bask in your brilliance with you.  I needn’t wait any longer.  Juneteenth is a beautiful space of not waiting to be seen, but having Blackness be being witnessed.  And choosing into the brilliance of it right now.  It is time for us, as the brilliant, the beautiful, the boundless - the Black -  to know that liberation, emancipation, freedom, divinity, and worthiness can be our in an instant. Our world needs us to know that now.
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It's Time to Level Up

6/7/2020

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Nautilus Shell

level up
US /ˈlev.əl/ 
-phrasal verb with level verb
To gain enough points in a computer game (or life) to enable a player or character to go up to a higher level, gaining more skills or strength

We’ve had quite a week in the United States.  A week of hope.  A week of unrest.  A week of fear for some.  A week of cynicism for others.  A week of deep reflection and exposed hearts.  A week of exhaustion.  A week of inspiration.  A week of “where the hell have you been if you think this is new.” And a week of  “I had no idea.”  

And my guess is many of us are tired.  Potentially overwhelmed and feeling the reality of the ever lengthening road ahead.  The ever deepening of our awareness.  The broadening of our analysis.  The importance of the intention of our action.  And the commitment to our allyship and accountability.

That’s what it is going to take…over and over. And over and over, again. So it’s time for us each to level up.

I enjoy video games.  They are admittedly not as fun for me as a good, old fashioned board or card game that gathers people and usually includes some laughter… but video games can be fun.  A friend of mine and I used to love to go to video arcades – do they still call them video arcades?  We would bounce around from game to game - first pinball, then Astroids - one of her favorite favorites was Ms. Pac-Man.  Obviously, I’m ageing myself because so much of video games available now are online.  You only have to go the digital space to commune with others to play Fortnite or Minecraft.  

No matter if you’re sitting in the comfort of your own home escaping into a video game, or dropping quarters into the elongated square box of the OG video games - “leveling up” is always the objective.  The objective is always to gain new skills, to strengthen the skills that you already have, and to keep practicing those skills in order to build endurance in the game.

I’m sure that there are some folks out there who did things this past week that they never thought they would do. Words spoken.  Risks taken. Thoughts about things that they might have previously been scared to think.  That is what is required in the current context of our leveling up.  And those of us who have been working at equity and social justice must level up, too.

I started my journey in “this work” in the late 1980s by joining Lamar High School’s Students to End Prejudice (STEP, for short) my junior or senior year of high school.  The striving for racial justice and equity, clearly had been going on long before I showed up for that first meeting in that packed classroom, but that’s when I entered journey.  Thirty years later, at almost 48 years old, I have watched “multiculturalism” become “diversity”, “diversity” become “inclusion”, “inclusion” become “equity and social justice”.  The change in the terminology has yielded a slight change in our collective consciousness every time - each in different ways, and with each change, it meant that I had to “level up”.  Sometimes that meant asking myself different questions.  Sometimes that meant, pushing an edge and saying the thing to the person who had the hierarchical power in my organization.  Sometimes that meant absolutely destroying my self-concept and letting the person that I thought I had to be completely dissolve so that I could live more boldly in the world.  

Through my years of thinking about identity, power, systems, policies, values, and change, I’ve learned that this is a cyclical process.  Sort of like a spiral cone.  With each spin in the cycle, there is possibility to inch further forward.   As a collective society, space between the cycle depends on the commitment of each individual to maintain their own responsibility to pushing their own edge. I think we are experiencing a collective leveling up - but to maintain the collective leveling up, we each have to commit to doing the thing that is a skill level higher than what we thought we could do before.  

This continual evolving and pushing the edge calls to mind the beauty of the nautilus shell.  I remember the first time that I learned about the cephalopods that inhabit those shells, my mind and heart were blown open at the genius of the natural world in presence of this creature.  What I know of the nautilus is that as the animal inside the shell grows , it seals off the chamber that it has just emerged from.  It then grows to fit this next chamber only to eventually emerge to a new chamber that is larger - and it seals off its old home in order to keep growing.  I’m sure there are many out there that could explain this 20 times better than I just did, but what I know is that is exactly what we must do to maintain this collective leveling up.

Through a lens of white supremacy, you might read the story of the nautilus as an explanation about why you have to cut off the friends or family members that “you just can’t get through to” or “that just won’t listen”.  Let’s read it differently.  

The nautilus never leaves its whole shell behind - it just keeps reaching toward growth.  It seals off the old chamber because it knows it won’t be comfortable in that smaller space.  Sometimes in our fear of having the hard conversation, saying the thing that silences the room, or asking the question in a bumbly, awkward way is us striving toward that growth.  Sometimes we fall back in to the silence of the smaller shell and it feels uncomfortable and inauthentic because we actually know more than we’re letting on in the moment. Be the nautilus. Don’t allow yourself to go back.  The collective leveling up is counting on each of us.

You might be asking yourself, “What does my level up look like right now?”  I’ve been asking myself that all week.  And thankfully, you’re looking at it.  Mine is putting my thinking out there in different ways.  Its trying some curriculum and programs that I have long sat on out of a wasted and ridiculous fear.  It’s pulling out my “white supremacy spotlight” and shrining it and lighting up thoughts, ways of being, practices and policies brought to us by a system, ideology, and internalization of white supremacy whenever I see, hear or smell it...even if I’m slightly off about it, because at least it will create a conversation and a wondering.

Figure out what will keep you in this work for the long game.  Because that is exactly what this is.   And the “this” in that sentence is creating a world that is centered on and framed by social justice.  We’re in the long game.  So how are you choosing to level up?

3 Comments

Unrest.

5/30/2020

14 Comments

 
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I’ve only been in one fist fight in my life.

It was with a boy named Levelle - I think he was in 5th grade and I was in grade 3.  Levelle and his younger sister rode the same school bus that my sister and I rode to a predominantly white elementary school 15.3 miles away from our poor and working class Black neighborhood in Houston, Texas.  When my sister and I got on the bus in the dark at 6:10 am, Levelle and his sister were already on, fast asleep in the uncomfortably stiff seats and we would often quickly join them in slumber.  As the bus rumbled around Houston picking up its miniature passengers, the light would rise outside and Levelle would come alive.  

Levelle was a bully.  When he awoke and more kids were on the bus, Levelle would ruthlessly (in my 8 year old eyes) taunt children, call them names, sit on them, fart in their face - it was disturbing and disgusting.  I was frustrated at watching this boy, morning after morning cause havoc.  Silently seething, I sat in my seat hoping not to be noticed and feeling at the same time completely powerless.  I’d watch from the seat that I often took towards the front of the bus - the quiet child hoping to stay out of the fray - but also wanting to hopefully avoid Levelle’s rath.  My sister, older - and I think bolder than me - sat towards the back of the bus and one day I saw her catch some of Levelle’s bullying.  I don’t remember what he did, I just knew I didn’t like it.  He might have even directed something  at me - but I don’t remember that part - I just knew he did something to my sister and that was not ok.  The seething became righteous anger and when Levelle stepped off that bus, when we arrived at school, I was right behind him wailing pounding fists upon his back.  If you’ve ever seen the movie “A Christmas Story” and the scene where Ralphie lets the bully have it - turn Ralphie into a too tall for her age, dark skinned, Black girl with pigtails and (Scut Farkus) into a slightly pudgy, Black boy child, often disheveled and ashy.  Before I knew what I was doing, I was letting my fury and rath out on this boy - who I now can reason was probably being bullied himself.…Levelle probably got the snickers, the ostracism, the othering as much, if not more than I did in our elementary school.  But in my rage, that didn’t matter.  I punched, kicked, and screamed my anger at him. I wanted him to stop.  I wanted him to never do anything he was doing - particularly picking on my sister - again.  I wanted to be rid of my feelings that were coursing though my body - the feelings of fear, anger, rage, disgust, powerlessness….I wanted them all out.  And I let them all out on this boy who stood their crying - probably shocked that he experienced a surprise attack from this meek, quiet, nobody of a kid who sat in the front of the bus.  Yes, he cried during that fight.  Never throwing a punch. Never shoving me. Never pushing back.  And somewhere in the midst of his tears, I found my own.  There was no triumph in that fight for me, only more fear.  I immediately became more afraid of being in trouble with my teacher.  I cried because those feelings of fear, rage, disgust and powerlessness were still there.  Tears well up in my eyes even now because I was raging on another human being.  

To publish a piece like this right now in the midst of what our country is going through might have my motives feel unclear.  And I actually don’t know what my motives are other than to share some thinking.  I heard the word “rebellion” a couple of times during some zoom calls I had yesterday.  It's a good word for what we are seeing on the news and experiencing in our cities.  People are resisting and acting in defiance to an authority, control, or tradition.  People are raging against the bully.  The bully this time is white supremacy….always trailed by its minions racism, sexism, classism, homophobia, ableism, xenophobia, religious oppression, sizism and their tools of destruction - militarism, colonialism, capitalism, misogny, and shame.  Sometimes the minions get to be front and center - propped up by white supremacy, but the beliefs of supremacy are always at play.

White supremacy is the bully.  And we each are being run/directed/ordered by this bully.

Much like I didn’t really understand or know Levelle, most of us don’t really understand or know white supremacy.  Heck, most of us really don’t even know or understand racism.  Yes. They are different. What we know is reaction.  What we know is fear.  What we know is shame.  What we know is story.  What we know is over-thinking.  What we know is paralyzation at doing the wrong thing.  What we know is being stunned into silence.  What we know is powerlessness.  What we know is the internalization of lies about ourselves and others that look like us.  What we know is pain.  We think we know white supremacy because we’ve experienced it or we know how to form the words on our lips.  That’s not knowing something - that being in relationship to it.  I’m in relationship to the tomatoes that I have growing in my windowsill, but I have no idea how their growth works, why the growth happens, why their leaves look one way when the seed first emerges from the ground, and another way two weeks later.  I have no idea why the fruit of the seed blooms first as a flower, then turns into something edible.  Your guess is as good as mine about why the stalks of a tomato bush are hairy.  I am infinitely curious about where the origin of the seed that these plants are growing from started.  To know something, you gotta get up all into its grill.  To know something you’ve got to let it reveal itself to you.  To know something you’ve got to dig deeply, get curious about it -  let it wrestle you to the ground, then turn around and wrestle it to the ground.  You’ve got to study it not by just reading about it from a distance, but by asking it to come visit and getting practiced at telling it when it is time to leave.  

I’m on a first name basis with white supremacy.  And not just because I have a lot of white people in my life.  I’m on a first name basis because it freaking snuck into my existence early, early…probably even during the first breath of my life and it refuses to leave.  I’m on a first name basis with white supremacy because I’ve noticed it in myself - yes, even as a Black person and work constantly at seeing how it tries to use me.    I’m on a first name basis with white supremacy because I stared it down and said “you’re unwelcome here”, but I know its my responsibility to get up and get it out.  Daily.  Moment by moment.  Conversation by conversation.  Policy by policy.  Thought by thought.
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Rebellion is absolutely necessary.  And the rebellion against an energy outside of yourself is only a part of the truth of change.  The rebellion has to occur inside as well.  What are the ways that I allowed myself to be used by white supremacy?  What are the conversations that I have failed or were too afraid to have?   What are the thoughts that I think that I just shove down rather than get out and examine for fear that it will be too painful to heal?  What are the ways that white supremacy has hijacked my thoughts?  My time?  My feelings?  My perspective on what is beautiful? My opinions? My energy?  My opinions about my body?  What I choose to watch on a screen?  It has hijacked ALL of that (and so much more) and because we’re too afraid to look and really know it - we throw our hands up and instead choose to know fear, pain, powerlessness and hopelessness.

You’ll notice that I haven’t at all talked about who my audience for this piece is.  Because it's for all of us.  Because it’s for me.  Find your place in it.  What are the questions you need to ask?  What are the conversations you need to start?  If you know me, you know the exploration and emergence is a constant and it’s because I want my liberation more than I want anything in the world.  And it's not a liberation from any one thing - and not liberation to any one thing.  I want liberation.  I want to think for myself.  I want to feel for myself.  I want to act for myself.  I want a connection to the All That Is that is not gunked up by systems and struggles that actually have nothing to do with my true nature.  White supremacy confuses people about my true nature.  And it confuses me about my own and others’ true nature, also.  I want free.  I desire to be free.  I can be free.  I will be free.  I am free.  Even if for a moment.

I don’t know what became of Levelle and his sister.  I don’t even remember what happened the next day - whether he continued his torment or his bullying continued on, but I know I somehow went about seeking my peace and my power in other ways.  And I’ve been seeking it ever since.

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Did you feel it?

1/21/2017

1 Comment

 
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​I don’t know if you felt it today, but the world shifted.  While I wrote social justice curriculum from my bed (there are many ways to be an activist!), while nursing a cold and watching the livestream of Women’s March, the air became thicker with the model of coalition building, collaboration, courage, strength and purpose.  The earth shifted on its axis with the weight of togetherness, clarity of our collective power of a need for change.  As we feel the joy of our successes, and our abundance of numbers – we have to recognize that there were millions that were not present with us. 
 
It is the millions that don’t understand and don’t grasp why we marched. It’s the millions that still felt the exclusion of one of the most inclusive movements I’ve noticed in my lifetime. They too felt the shift, and are afraid.  We cannot leave them behind.  Some of them supported DJT. Some of them were so disenfranchised that they went about their lives watching football, binge watching tv, or even worse, they spent the time alone. Many have said all of our liberation is tied to each of our liberation.  If that is true, which I know it is, we cannot leave them behind.  Inclusion requires that we practice a few things in this shifted world for it to actually be permanent and get stronger.
 
The maintenance of this shifted world requires a SECOND BY SECOND PRACTICE of love. Yes, I said practice.  Every single thing we do - is a practice.  The breath I just took was a practice for my next breath to be deeper and more present.  My staying home today was a practice of doing self-care in a more present way the next time I am worn down and sick.  If we hold our love as a practice, we know that we are always growing, getting better, and moving towards excellence rather than perfection. We know that sometimes we won’t be able to love as deeply as we want or show compassion at every turn.  But we’ll know we have another chance at practice. Excellence doesn’t have an end, perfection does.  Excellence is a practice.  Therefore let our love for those inside our communities, that marched with us AND those that we didn’t see today or that outright ignored or challenged us, also be a practice of love.
 
The survival of this shifted axis requires that we all become teachers and learners.  That we understand a conversation with everyone has a value, and is a place of education…and patience.  As I wrote these words today for the curriculum I am soon to turn in,
 
“Very simply, diversity is about difference, inclusion is about voice, equity is about understanding differing needs and supplying differing resources in ways that are equitable and that get people to what they need to succeed.  Social justice is about so much more. It is about the creation of a society where all feel safe, supported, heard, and seen.  It is about rights, resources, the elimination of structural and cultural barriers, physical and psychological safety.  And the process of getting to that society, must be done in safe, supported, equitable, physically, verbally and visually inclusive ways. That is why each of these terms and concepts must be understood separately and together…”
 
I realized that there are SO MANY that have no comprehension of what any of that means.  They wouldn’t understand psychological safety because it’s not in a reality that they live.  They don’t understand diversity, because it does not exist in a human form around them (I say human because the natural world gives us diversity every day.  Our consciousness is often closed off to it.)   It’s not that they don’t care, they just haven’t had the conversation(s) that helps them understand.  But too often, we give up.  We’re not curious to what someone who might not think like us will be able to offer us.  We have not trained ourselves to practice patience, then body awareness (to note when we are triggered and when it’s time for us to walk away from the conversation), and then to hand the conversation to the next educator they will run into.  I do not suggest that each of us give ourselves away to ignorance or listen to abuse, but rather I suggest that we realize engagement – listening, learning, and educating (in that order) – requires patience and presence.
 
The new breathable air will require the release of fear. Know that I speak to myself as much as I speak to anyone as I type these words.  Every word about fear that I speak at any workshop or keynote is as much for my own ears, as it is for yours.  Yesterday, as sat waiting to fly to Creating Change in Philly to facilitate a workshop, I was in Chicago O’Hare Airport listening to and watching people cheer as DJT delivered his inauguration address.  Fear snuck up right beside me and started to envelope me in its dangerous gaze. For a second, it felt comfortable – like an old friend that I had sat with many times in my life.  A familiar embrace.  And then I remembered that this new breathable air is not about familiar.  It is not about the strange, and lulled lullaby of fear.  It’s about our hearts beating faster.  It’s about feeling the blood moving through our body in a different way.  And it is about Life. Not about the survival of the status quo, which survives on fear and oppression, but it is about our living and breathing and staring down fear in the many forms that it chooses to show up.  To practice staring it down mentally and physically every day.  I think that’s what Eleanor Roosevelt (and many others) were trying to instruct us on when they said, “Do one thing everyday that scares you.”  She was helping us to practice staring fear in its face and remind to remind it who is boss.
 
I commit to not leaving my sisters, brothers, and others who were not conscious to the reason for this global change today behind.  I will not leave them to be confused about why their lives feel different.  Because their lives will most definitely feel different.  I know the shift shook some people awake.  The movement ignited some flames in the spirits of warriors that are ready to erupt. Some people who were even present to the shift don’t even know that yet that they were awoken in a different way.  They won’t realize it until they get to work on Monday and they don’t respond to the status quo in a spirit of fear.  Or they show up differently asking for respect and honor in their relationships when they arrive back home.  But I ask us…all of us… to bring those that were not present, not aware, not conscious, and even not ready…I ask that we bring them gently along with grace and courage.  They are not our enemies.

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Lifting Joy as we Climb

1/16/2017

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“In a real sense all life is inter-related. All (people) are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly. I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be, and you can never be what you ought to be until I am what I ought to be...
This is the inter-related structure of reality.”
― Martin Luther King Jr., Letter from Birmingham Jail

Every time I finish a LeaderShape Institute session, as part of my closing remarks, I share the above quote. I share the quote with the students that I am working with because it has been a guiding beacon for my life since I read it over 20 years ago when preparing for a civil rights tour across the Southern U.S. as a graduate student. It reminds me on a daily basis that I am both connected to everyone and everything else and also responsible for my own being and doing. I share this today because I think sometimes we get so overtaken with our doing, that we forget about our being.

Yesterday, while attending Heart and Soul Center of Light, a church that my partner and I attend when I am in the Bay, we learned about the map of consciousness that (from my very baseline understanding) says that our expression of being vibrates on different energy levels. The higher level of vibration that we all exist at, the better for all of us and for each of us individually. (Again, this is my very simplistic read on a much deeper concept that I will do a much deeper dive on soon.) For example, when we are in a shame space or expressing shame, our energy or being is vibrating at a 20, where if we are expressing love or feeling love, we are vibrating at a level of 500. I was surprised to learn that from the perspective of this theory that courage vibrates at a very neutral level. Courage is what we profess and encourage in our fights for Justice. It is what we ask of ourselves as we stand up against injustice and the everyday acts that support the systems of oppression that keep the status quo in place. What struck me even deeper was that in our struggles for social justice, Joy, which exists at a higher vibration, is so rarely talked about or embraced.

When thinking about Martin Luther King, Jr. and the many photos that we see of him, we see him courageously standing in front of hundreds of thousands of people at the March on Washington or leading a march across Edmund Pettus Bridge. I think those images sometimes distances us from what is possible from each of us in the fight for justice. We see a man with a powerful voice and think, “that could never be me”, so we think our small thing that we are able to do to create change or that interruption of a racist or ableist policy or ageist or transphobic practice will never be enough.

I want to offer a different view of Dr. King this year – one that also sought out the higher vibration of joy, in addition to the courage that he showed. There are not enough images in circulation – like these of him playing pool, laughing with Sammy Davis, Jr. and Harry Belafonte, or just being a dad – that remind us that his joy seeking, his higher vibration probably fueled those moments of courage. Where we might wonder if we can muster our courage, joy seeking actually might be a way to find it. On this MLK Day 2017, I ask us to tap into the joy of Martin Luther King, Jr. and to tap into our own joy as a way of lifting up his memory. Seek joy, not in the absence of analysis, action, or courage, but right alongside those three ways of being in a fight for justice. My joy can fuel your joy, and vice versa. And it might just fuel the destruction of the status quo.

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Thank You, Teacher

4/23/2016

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there used 2 be a time when music was a spiritual healing 4 the body, soul, & mind…
- liner notes from Art Official Age
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Grief is a funny thing. The last two days I have learned a lot about its surprising, weird, loving, and uncontrollable nature. Prince’s death has let me grieve parts of my experience I didn’t even know I still needed to grieve. The tears come surprisingly – standing in front of the sink washing dishes and hearing a song that spoke to my being in a different way – watching a news report and seeing the death dash completed - dancing full out in my apartment hallway to “Lovesexy” and needing to dance my way to the box of tissues because I discover that tears are running down my face – and they are all welcome. It feels like a small price, and maybe even a reward that I don’t deserve. Heck, he did all the work. I get the gift of feeling my humanness deeper. I cry, I think, because I didn’t get to say thank you.

Prince’s death on Thursday has opened up a well of grief in me that is as much about me as it is him. It has been fascinating to observe and yet, difficult to experience. The baton passes between sadness at the absence of the memories that were yet to be made at his concerts and the immense gratitude for the blessing of his life - breathing words, sounds, and thoughts out into the world - to the very harsh grief of hard moments in my life that he accompanied me on – I feel like I lost a friend.

I never met him. I didn’t have to. That’s exactly what art is about. That’s what liberation is about. We are supposed to express what is in us because we have no other choice but to do so. The problem is most of us think we do have another choice. We choose “safety” and “comfort” – not realizing that we’ve chosen the harder, less colorful, dreary path. In liberation, others are supposed to observe our living and feel the breeze of the opening of a window or a door letting us know that there is more life to be lived, to be faced, to be embraced. He did that SO beautifully, with such grace, with such humor, with such panache, such boldness, such sexiness and with such love. He did it so well – he LIVED liberation so well – that it felt like he was here with me trying to instruct and open doors for my own liberation.
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Sometimes it was with a gentle hand – a breathy, deep or falsetto, compassionate voice and sometimes with a rougher hand in the form of that full-bodied, rich scream like in the song “Temptation” that I heard yell, “Let Go, Tanya!” He has been right here with me for these last 38 years creating and holding space for a little Black lesbian girl woman raised in a working class, Baptist household – wrestling with internalized racism, sexism, classism and homophobia. He held space for me – when I couldn’t inhabit it myself. He did it through
his music
his being
his Blackness
his style
his moving between worlds with such fluidity
his non-apology
his boldness
his ability to fill as space
his sexuality
his faith
and his ability to handle a guitar preciseness and rawness that it felt like it was an extension of his soul – I felt a kindredness with him…maybe because I wanted to be him.

My own fears, internalized hate, limiting voices…he seemed like he had none of it, so it gave me the opportunity to see that I could live outside of all that. I didn’t know how, but he had figured out how to – he lived it so clearly – it must be possible for me, too.
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I feel like my Teacher died. As if with his death, my Teacher had pushed me out of the nest, out of the classroom - telling me that he had no more activities to offer. But it feels like he left in the middle of a lesson. I wasn’t finished learning from his example, his words, his clarity – his example was so beautiful and powerful – maybe he knew that I had gotten lazy and comfortable and that I would have sat hanging on his every word for the rest of my life and never actually walked out of the classroom myself.

There he is teaching me even in death.

I have enough songs, videos, photos, memories…and I hope, the long talked about Vault that I pray gets released with care and presence when access is gained…to last me a lifetime. His physical being will now forever be absent but the kindness of genius is that it always leaves something beautiful behind. And I know his teaching presence will always be near.
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Prince, thanks to you, there is still a time when music is a spiritual healing for the body, soul, and mind. And that time is now. As I listen to your catalog in its completion, it’s like re-reading a book and finding a new meaning in its pages – seeing the ways that I have shifted that allow your lessons to go in deeper. I have gathered new keys that will help me continue to open doors and windows - my own and others. People have spoken of your quiet generosity – your philanthropy for causes, for people, for organizations – it wasn’t so quiet if we had listened closely. You left us with a treasure trove of music, you brought numerous artists both contemporary and elder on your vast stage and through your music room, and you offered an every day example of liberation to aspire to and fight for. And for that lesson, Teacher, I thank you.

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Assault on the Black Body….and the Black Mind.

6/9/2015

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Is anyone getting psychological assistance for that young 15 year-old girl who was literally (white) man handled in the video from the pool party in McKinney, TX over the weekend?  Is anyone wondering what generational and psychic trauma that brought up in her young black girl body?  And the trauma that it brings up in black girls and women across the world?  I know that watching the video – which I finally made myself do today – hit a pain in me that was not physically my own, but pain of my ancestors and a generational memory of assault and rape of slavery.

As a social justice educator and researcher about internalized oppression, specifically racism, I work to stay aware of what is happening in the nation regarding race, justice, identity and power – but I also recognize that what I take in visually and aurally on a daily basis affects me emotionally and intellectually.  And while we have continued to recognize the way the Black body is being physically assaulted and murdered century after century, I worry that we have not had such a good watch on the Black mind.  Particularly, the pummeling that the Black Mind (and spirit) takes on a regular basis at the hands of media images, day to day racial macro and microaggressions and sometimes at the insidiousness of the racism that lives within after generations and generations of swallowing the hate in order to survive.

The young Black girl’s physical body indubitably will have sore muscles and bruises to heal, but what is the healing that has to take place in her soul and mind?  Do we as a nation even know how to begin scratching the surface of that impact of that moment – and the constant reliving that occurs now that it has become a viral assault?  I think sometimes as a nation of video watchers, we sometimes get caught up with the sensational - wanting to make sure the person who commits the atrocious action pay for what they did. Sometimes we forget that the emotional and spiritual impact on an individual, community or a people won’t necessarily be healed by the suspension or indictment of an officer, though the accountability for an action is important.  I worry about our lack of ability to hold the psychological impact of these moments that are broadcast far, wide and often.

One of my favorite movies, The Matrix, says it best, “The body cannot live without the mind.”  As we remember that Black lives matter – those lives consist of both body and mind.  Emotional selves, intellectual selves and spiritual selves are being hurt in this racialized world that we’ve created, as well.  And as we work to create a world that exists without racism, if we have not cared for and protected our emotional selves and the Black Mind, we will struggle to step into the power that has been rightfully ours this whole time.


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...Greater than we believe

9/27/2014

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I can remember while writing my dissertation, I would go to my favorite coffee house, Northampton Coffee every Sunday morning at 8 am and sit in the large glass window facing the early morning quiet street.  I would order a chai tea latte, iced or steamed, depending on the season, and treat myself to a reading of the Sunday Styles in the New York Times before diving into the work of unearthing new knowledge and facing the inevitable struggles of writing a dissertation about internalized racism.

Sitting in that window, week after week, month after month, I pushed against old internalized patterns of fear, inadequacy, not being "black" enough, believing that so many others had much more, and wiser things to say than I did.  I kept coming back, believing and telling myself that each movement, each intention that I set - just by even showing up some days - would get me closer to that goal of crossing that graduation stage.

Such has been the same with the accomplishing of this website and blog - surely the intention and showing up and writing has been there, but so have the old internalized fears, frustrations, inadequacies, and beliefs that so many others have much more and wiser things to say than I do.  And a voice keeps pushing me to show up, anyway.

In fact it woke me up this morning at 4:30 am telling me to get up and write. Telling me to share the piece of information that was implanted in my soul to share with the world.  Telling me to unselfishly offer the contribution that I was assigned - to take it and offer it the world. To forget the stories in my head, to forget my fear - and need for sleep - to forget those internalized thoughts, frustrations, and inadequacies. 

And so here I am. 

And that feels like authenticity to me.  Recognizing that risk is not the balance to reward, but it is actually just the precursor to it.  Our willingness to share ourselves, our gifts, our secret worries that we think no one cares about or has ever faced what we face will almost always be met with welcome by someone else.  We just have to keep risking to show up authentically.  Someone will come along and prove to us that we are not alone - and that connection, that building of community, will be the reward that we've been waiting for. The even greater reward will be the recognition that we are living into our full being - fear and all.

What is the contribution - not monetary, not material, not even time - but rather what is the contribution that lives in our very being that we are withholding and what's holding us back from offering it?

And so here I am - offering my contribution - willing to take the risk and believing in the reward - and knowing that the greater reward is already here.
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    My voice

    Everyday we all have a lot of thoughts flowing through our heads...these are just a few  of mine that made it to the page.  It's an opportunity to understand my perspective and a bit more of my style.

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New York, NY 10030 tanya@authenticseeds.org
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