As a white person, how do I speak about shutting up? Is it better to just do it, to just shut up?
I’ve been thinking about this for several hours now. I have other things to do but am stuck on this question & won’t accomplish anything else until I attempt to answer it. And by answering it, am I answering it? Because obviously I have decided to speak about shutting up.
But only to say: White people, we need to be better at shutting up.
And by shutting up I mean literally just stop talking so much. Less output, more intake. I say this to you and I say this to myself. And the intake is equally important, because there is a second part to the act of shutting up, to willfully shut up, to make your shutting up make a difference, and that is to actively listen to the voices that your white voice inherently drowns out by being white. And this listening has to be active, meaning, you have to go searching for the voices of people of color. Don’t expect these voices to show up just because you’ve stopped talking – they won’t and that’s the problem. Marginalized voices are in the margins. It’s our responsibility to find them.
For white people shutting up has to be willful because racism is willful. Because oppression is willful, designed to be willful. Because privilege is willfully invisible, operating on the illusion of not existing.
For white people shutting up has to include active listening because racism is systematic and institutionalized, which means white privilege is systematic and institutionalized, which means no white person is exempt from white privilege. Shutting up will make space for the voices of people of color, yes, but if we don’t actively listen to those voices and continue to examine the function and manifest of our own white privilege, the voices we make space for will only continue to be marginalized every time we speak, because white privilege is inherent in how we speak, how we are heard.
I speak often about the act of speaking, about willfully speaking, about taking up space, reclaiming narratives and reshaping realities, about the patriarchy and the intersection of abuse, trauma, rape, sexism and gender, and how so much of this has robbed me of so much of my voice. And it has, but that doesn’t change the fact that my voice is a white voice and heard as one. And recognizing the fact that my voice is a white voice and heard as one doesn’t negate my own experiences of oppression. And that’s what intersectionality (a theory first named by Kimberlé Crenshaw in 1989, by the way, yet still not recognized as a word by either tumblr or Facebook (Google?), which is evidence alone of how even vocabulary about marginalization is still marginalized) is all about – this crossing of ideas and experiences and being able to recognize and think about all of them with both criticism and empathy, recognizing that within systems of oppression exist other systems of oppression. Oppression is not a ladder but a multi-dimensional web and so our thinking must be multi-dimensional.
Combating racism is one thing to think about and another to do, to willfully practice. Critical thinking itself is a willful practice but I’m thinking about how this manifests in the world, what we do with the thinking, how it shapes our words and interactions. And the practice is hard work because the practice is inherently flawed, i.e. my practice is inherently white (which does not excuse its whiteness). My critical thinking is inherently white, and that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do it but actually that I need to do it more. I need to think critically about how I critically think.
And while there are specific things to do (surround yourself with voices of people of color, absorb yourself in the art and literature by people of color – emphasis on “surround” and “absorb” because tokenizing is anti-productive i.e. read Claudia Rankine but don’t only read Claudia Rankine), I also hesitate to make a list of things “to do” because combating racism is not a to-do list. There is no “checking things off the list.” There is no “end” to racism, and if there was it wouldn’t be up to me to define it. But I can help define the beginning of the end of racism by defining the beginning of racism i.e. myself i.e. white people.
Now, stop listening to me. Here:
Think of me as the animal
in the camera most
likely to stand frozen.
An intimate moment
no matter if you
look away. I believe
there are particles
in us not suitable
for big nature.
What I really am
is already skinned
and flushed and when
I wrap my arms around
you something in them
screams. I have been
from JULIET (I) ……Because I used to be young. I used to have a family.
I used to gather myself in my arms like a wild
bunch of daisies. I used to have arms
that didn’t look like ghosts, sad bag of bones
draped with skin that doesn’t
want to be skin. I used to grow
a garden. I used to grow
a body. Now I mix tequila with limes
and call it dinner, think all my thoughts perfectly
and hope no one dumps their babies in the river tonight.
there are photos of me sprawled
in a london hotel room
in turquoise panties
all bony assed and ribs and white skin stretched
over small breasts, thicker thighs and i am so happy
they exist like proof i once was more than
cicada skin holding nothing but air
you say take your time and i take…
Peachy as puke. The misery of a public people inside the morning. Scatter ,terrier. I need to go to the k-martsnackbar of my youth. Here is a place where I don’t recall buying a R Kelly cassette single, but
I am feeling especially public today in anticipation of my own lunch hour. A lolling…
the ground is glowing under my feet
as i move through campus.
everything looks like a dream.
i want to enjoy it
but there are people.
i have all this strength waiting
beneath a frozen sea of tenderness.
maybe it’s the other way around, idk.
i can’t wait for my head to crack open
and…
“All my life I thought polar bears
and penguins grew up together playing side by side
on the ice, sharing the same vista, bits of blubber
and innocent lore. One day I read a scientific journal;
there are no penguins at one pole, no bears
on the other. These two, who were so long intimates
in my…
Violence against women is a global epidemic. When we come across violence against women in literature and art, it’s not the content that is the problem but who is saying it, how, and why they are saying it. I am all for survivors of abuse reclaiming those narratives through art. We need to reclaim those narratives. We need to reshape our realities.
And this need is exactly why it’s such a problem that men continue to aestheticize images of violence against women, and especially when they do so without explicit context, and especially when editors and readers treat this aestheticization as something deserving of a platform. This doesnothing but give agency to misogynistic tropes and thus further silences the voices of those who already have to struggle so hard to be heard. It’s not a man’s job to articulate these narratives, and women are not objects to be torn apart for the aesthetic factor of a man’s “art.” It’s not cool. It’s not edgy. It’s fucking disgusting, and it’s fucking disgusting that I have to point out that it’s fucking disgusting.
I don’t know
when I got so punk rock
but when I catch
myself in the mirror I
feel stronger. So when
at five in the afternoon
something on my TV says
time is not on your side
I don’t give any
shits at all.
[DIE DRAGONETTI] WRITERS & EDITORS RESPOND TO THE J. BRADLEY POEM & TED HASH-BERRYMAN INTERVIEW
Editors Note:I asked the poets and editors directly involved with the Jesse Bradley/ Lockjaw Magazine and Ted Hash-Berryman / Queen’s Mob Teahouse publications if they would be willing to…
i really want someone to platonically take a bath with me. is that a thing? can i make that a thing?
“We are taught in grade school that our bodies and the planet that holds them are largely made from water, and yet we spend our adult lives expecting always to stand on clearly defined, solid ground.” –Isobel O'Hare
Jen Espinoza is a genius. So is D Dragonetti.
“Therein is the revolution of Jen Espinoza’s work: confounding the horrors of the norm, and foregrounding her sanctity, the reclaimed narrative of her life.”
This particular combination of delight in the universe and the speaker’s desire for death will remind many of Sexton. Yet Certa has made the subject of depression, and the way it may present death as a constant choice, into wholly her own investigation of the way “[her] bones are laced too tight.” The failing relationship at the center of the manuscript is interesting, yet the relationship of the speaker to her own body and the concept of remaining within it takes on precedence. She repeatedly asserts “this is me” while, without acknowledgement, therapists offer their opinions: “They keep telling me I’m too high-functioning/ for a full-blown diagnosis.” This is the contradiction that takes on the most pain—one for which there is no explanation or release, in which the state of humanity may simply be to pain from awareness of mortality.
i am so bored of hearing myself think.
all i think about is what you’re thinking about
when you’re looking at or thinking about me.you are so boring. you are so predictable.
i am a couch in the middle of a field.
i am a dream about a dog underwater.
i am always screaming fuck you at everything
from behind my mouth and three inches of glass.i would ask you to imagine what it is like
to build your own body from scratch.i would ask you to remain seated
while i project the image of me slowly dying
and then coming back to life
in the span of ten seconds in a supermarket parking lot
onto your body.i love to say “i feel” all the time because it makes people angry.
i love to talk about myself as a single powerful thing
when i know that is wrong
just to piss you off.try to hear the sound of it escaping my lips. god.
it’s like every fire in the history of the world at once.and so you are smoke. and so you are kindling.
my power is in my head and it isn’t even power
in any real sense of the word. good. i’m glad.i don’t need any of the things
you have stuck in your teeth anymore.
“The avant-garde’s ‘delusion of whiteness’ is the specious belief that renouncing subject and voice is anti-authoritarian, when in fact such wholesale pronouncements are clueless that the disenfranchised need such bourgeois niceties like voice to alter conditions forged in history. The avant-garde’s 'delusion of whiteness’ is the luxurious opinion that anyone can be 'post-identity’ and can casually slip in and out of identities like a video game avatar, when there are those who are consistently harassed, surveilled, profiled, or deported for whom they are.”