By Wrenn Compere
A handful of years ago, I realized that I was woefully inept at understanding black people and people of color (POC). It wasn't that I didn't care – I did! And I daresay I had exposed myself to many more accounts of nonwhite experiences than many of my friends and family members. But life in rural Vermont is not exactly conducive to much cross-racial exchange and learning, to say the least.
As the new millennium unfolded, I watched the news, shocked and incredulous to witness a rising death toll: brazen, unpunished acts of violence and outright murder, often at the hands of those we hire to "protect and serve." I opted to learn, to investigate the stories of a long list of black citizens whose lives were cut short as a direct result of embedded racist policies and institutions, all irrigated by the silent waters of implicit bias.
Note my usage of the term "opted." I didn't have to learn these things. I was not in danger of being killed like this nor were any of my friends and family. I started to see that I could elect to remain ignorant of these depressing, troublesome occurrences. Yet inaction just didn't sit right, either in my mind or in my heart. I sought to fill out the picture.
Trayvon Martin, Mike Brown, Eric Garner, Sandra Bland, LaQuan McDonald, Oscar Grant, Tamir Rice, Freddie Gray, Philando Castille, Khalif Browder, the list goes on. And on. Weeks turned to months turned to years, court cases were overturned, officers were acquitted. Cellphone videos provided shocking footage of acts that had previously gone unseen. Aghast, I took stock of the cold-blooded truth, amazed by my own ignorance. I asked myself, why?
I added history books to my consumption of (noncorporate) news, investigating notions of white privilege and white supremacy – concepts I'd assumed were far behind us in our country's history. I was humbled to learn about systems and institutions that are structured to uphold white dominance, undergirding our present-day norms, rules and laws.
I contended with feelings of shame and frustration but also of excitement and liberation as I began to look beneath the surface of the many ways in which I'd been trained to perceive the world. Finally, two years ago, a group of neighbors decided to extend our learning by forming a community discussion group called the MRVARI (Mad River Valley Anti-Racism Initiative). We meet on the fourth Sunday of every month at the Village Meeting House (ground floor of Waitsfield United Church), from 6:30 to 8 p.m.
Everyone is welcome at our meetings, always. We place great value on a respectful exchange of ideas. There is no shaming. Your goodness is seen, upheld and cherished. But the work at the MRVARI is not always easy or comfortable. Learning to talk about racism is a huge, empowering, valuable step in beginning to correct a system that poisons and silences all of us. We do this work because we believe in something greater than ourselves and our own self-gain. It's the most inspiring thing I do. It's ongoing and you can help. Won't you join us at our next meeting?
Compere lives in Waitsfield.
