Maybe this week’s actions aren’t even in the category of kindness. You tell me, according to my definition:
“Kindness is any gesture I make directly to – or on behalf of – myself, my fellow humans, or the environment, as a way of saying, “I see you. I believe we’re interconnected. I recognize your dignity and value.
Kindness must be offered in a way that arises out of attentiveness to another. No one wants to be felt sorry for as much as listened to. Seen. Heard.”
I’m a white woman.
I mostly bake white bread.
I live in a country where white families are statistically still – as in it’s always been this way – wealthier than non-white families.
I live in a country where white students are statistically still – as in it’s always been this way – scoring higher on standardized testing.
I live in a country where white babies are statistically still – as in it’s always been this way – twice as likely to survive their birth than black babies.
“…recently there has been growing acceptance of what has largely been, for the medical establishment, a shocking idea: For black women in America, an inescapable atmosphere of societal and systemic racism can create a kind of toxic physiological stress, resulting in conditions — including hypertension and pre-eclampsia — that lead directly to higher rates of infant and maternal death…” New York Times Magazine, “Why America’s Black Mothers and Babies Are in a Life-or-Death Crisis” by Linda Villarosa. April, 2018.
Can I spend a whole year dedicated to kindness and not inform myself deeply, and talk about, about these inequities?
I’ve benefitted all my 60 years from being white. I’ve never seen art or literary works by white women hauled out for special attention during “White History Month.” It’s assumed that my whiteness is always visible and on the shelf. Every month is white history month.
Yes, there are fewer women than men represented in the arts, and we’ll get our Women’s History Month in March, but I never have to decide if I should first fight for my race rights or my women’s rights.
When I read books by people of color, I specifically have to seek them out. Representation on book shelves isn’t even close to being equal. For example, when I searched for books in my countywide library system with “kindness” in the title, I got 79 results, none written by a person of color.
Well, there is that one children’s book about a former slave, written by a white woman, but illustrated by a black man. Does that count? It’s the true story of William “Doc” Key, a former slave. Doc trained his horse Beautiful Jim Key to spell and read by using kindness rather than cruelty. The “Afterword” points out that “Doc and Jim’s legacy lives on in today’s stronger humane movement, better enforced animal anticruelty laws, and greater societal compassion toward animals?” Is it easier for us to advocate for kindness toward animals than kindness to each other?
I have a white dog to whom I’m incredibly kind. I’m friends with black dogs.
I subscribe to newsletters: one from Lee & Low Books, “the largest multi-cultural children’s book publisher in the country and one of the few minority-owned publishing companies in the United States”; and another from We Need Diverse Books, a non-profit and grassroots organization of children’s book lovers that “advocates essential changes in the publishing industry. Our aim is to help produce and promote literature that reflects and honors the lives of all young people.”
In Old English, “kindness” or “kyndness” means “nation.” This is a derivative of “kind.”
Middle English kinde, from Old English (ge)cynde” natural, native, innate,” originally “with the feeling of relatives for each other,” from Proto-Germanic *kundi- “natural, native,” from *kunjam “family”
“With the feeling of relatives for each other…”
What would you do for family? What does any of this have to do with kindness?
If you’re following along with this month’s “Grow your heart” Kindness Calendar, you’ll notice repetition:
February 1: Find ways to volunteer in your community. Send 3 e-mails asking for information from a group.
February 6: Seek out a book or film set in a community different from yours.
February 8: Did you hear back from your 3 volunteer organizations?
February 21: How’s that book / film coming? Read more.
February is Black History Month. I’ve been reading, devouring really, stories about being black in America. Histories. Herstories.
I watched Jada Pinkett Smith’s Red Table Talk: Unpacking White Privilege and Prejudice.
I’ve been listening too. I heard this conversation, after a viewing of BlacKkKlansman:
What was the timeframe for BlacKkKlansman? At least it’s not like that in America anymore. Things are better now.
Better for whom? I’d like for my kin to experience no measurable disparity among races.
In 2019 still, in America, being black is a statistical disadvantage for mental health and physical safety, bad for economic stability, and for representation in books, film, art, dance, music, in boardrooms and for over-representation in the criminal justice system. Anything other than white is still “other.” If you’re shaking your head “no, no, no” right now, take a reading break and go on a search engine scavenger hunt. Look up “weathering hypothesis” and “black infant mortality.” Read “A visual look at discriminatory lending in the U.S.” Look up “US Incarceration Rates by Race.”
If I solely identify as white, I don’t have to spend one second of time or energy fighting racism on my own behalf, or that of my family. I statistically benefit every day from things I did nothing to earn but being born of white parents. This leaves me with a hefty store of reserves for #KindInKind, starting with my February 22 suggestion: How about that volunteer effort?
I volunteer with the Orange County Human Relations committee to speak about hate crimes: How to identify them, report them, prevent them. I went through hours of training, a background check, fingerprinting, practice.
I’ve been waiting more than a year for someone to call on me to present, to allow me to stand safe on the other side of the podium under the banner of OC Human Relations committee and talk about race issues. I’m happy to speak to you or your group, but I’m not waiting anymore for someone to call to take action.
Do you want more from Black History month than quoting Martin Luther King?
Here are four things you can do to kindly “Grow your heart.”
“Just Mercy is an unforgettable account of an idealistic, gifted young lawyer’s coming of age, a moving window into the lives of those he has defended, and an inspiring argument for compassion in the pursuit of justice.”
Listen: The red line: Racial disparities in lending by Reveal, The Center for Investigative Reporting.
“Forty years ago, Congress passed the Community Reinvestment Act, which required banks to lend to qualified borrowers in blighted neighborhoods. The act aimed to eliminate government-sponsored housing discrimination, known as redlining…Today, a new epidemic of modern-day redlining has crept quietly across America. The gap in homeownership between African Americans and whites is now wider than it was during the Jim Crow era.”
Watch: Slavery by Another Name, a 90-minute documentary.
“It is rare to have the opportunity to bring to television a story that, outside of academic circles, is virtually unknown,” says tpt National Productions’ Catherine Allan, executive producer of the 90 minute documentary for PBS. “In telling the story of what happened to African Americans over the 80 year period of “neo-slavery”, we hope to add a significant new facet to America’s ongoing discussion about race.”
Write: Write to your library, your children’s school, your church, your market, your favorite book publisher / shoe store / media outlet / pet store. Write a letter that goes something like this:
I appreciate all you do.
You know I’ve always been a supporter of ________________, and I know the impact all your great work has in the field of ____________________.
Are you open to a suggestion? In ___________________ (months, years) it seems the number of white (presidents / preachers / teachers / presenters / readers / managers / guest speakers / etc.) far outnumber those who are people of color.
Don’t you think it’s time to make more opportunity and visibility available to the full spectrum of humanity that lives in our country?
Of course I wouldn’t dare make a suggestion without offering resources. I’m here to help in any way I can. (Don’t worry, dear reader. If you write this letter, I’m willing to help you find those resources. #KindInKind.)
Hunh, I really didn’t anticipate a deep dive in this Year of Kindness, but deep I go. That dialogue about race everyone’s saying we need to have? It’s been going on and on and on and as a white woman, I need to listen, to learn, to speak up, to widen my circle of kynd.
I like white bread.
I like my white dog.
I love my white grandchildren. And I really want them to work with me on changes that create kindness and lasting equality in their lifetime.
Be well. Be aware. Be kind.