At a recent awards banquet I was grateful to be recognized as a "Courageous Communicator" for my work in racial justice. Here is my acceptance speech (transcript of the video posted above):
"I don’t feel at all like a courageous communicator, and it’s not because I developed laryngitis the day before my big acceptance speech. It’s because I work for racial justice at a fraction of the risk for twice the credit as women of color, and it is unjust for me to be the person recognized for it.
Because of the concerns I had about proper credit I felt that I shouldn’t accept the award. And then I asked myself the same question I always ask when deciding whether or not to be in the spotlight while I’m doing this work:
Will it give me the opportunity to speak to people who have power, influence, and resources, and who, by hearing my words, may be compelled to join those of us working for a more equitable and just society? And is there a chance that I am uniquely positioned to have greater influence with this particular audience because they are more likely to accept this message if it comes from someone in their own racial peer group?
In this case the answer was yes, and so there I was. Here is what I said to an 85% white audience for my ten minutes of air time:
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I occupy this stage today instead of women in our community who have been working far longer and much harder than I will ever know, but who, because they continue to be marginalized, are rarely recognized and given credit for their work. I do this work at a fraction of the risk for twice the credit as women of color, and yet I am the one here receiving an award. That is unfair, and it is something that needs to change.
So my goal in being here today is not just to accept this lovely honor, but to compel you to do more than you’re currently doing for a more fair and just society, because clearly we are not doing enough.
But the truth is, I’m speaking to some of you more than others.
Often when I speak about these things, folks don’t hear me because they think I’m talking to someone else. They think, “Yes, but I don’t say or do racist things, so I’m not part of the problem. But I do know the folks she’s talking about!”
So let me be clear. I am talking to you if:
- Your ancestors immigrated to the U.S. when immigration was only allowed for white Europeans.
- Over the years, your ancestors received training and salaries in jobs where white employees had rights that people of color did not.
- After serving in the military, someone in your family benefitted from Federal Housing Administration or Veteran’s Association loans. For folks who don’t know, the FHA and VA financed more than $120 billion in new housing between 1934 and 1962, during which time covenants specified that only 2% of this real estate be made available to non-white families.
- You live in a neighborhood where people of color were ever prevented from living or buying property, either through discriminatory lending practices, or various forms of legal and illegal intimidation. If you live in a predominantly white neighborhood it’s a safe to assume I’m talking to you. These outcomes do not happen by accident.
- Your parents and grandparents were able to vote for people who represented their interests without worrying about: polling taxes, literacy requirements, inaccessible polling locations and hours, or other forms of discrimination.
This timeline of events from which we directly benefit, and these are just the tip of the iceberg, have left us going about our daily business in a country where:
- We live in a country where even after controlling for all variables including credit score, Latinx Americans are 78% more likely to be given a high-cost mortgage than a white American, and black Americans are… 105% more likely.
- And did you know, that this problem is not getting better, but in fact it’s getting worse? The wage gap between black and white workers has been slowly increasing since 1979.
And if you’re tempted to believe that our community is a liberal utopia that is somehow exempt from systemic racism, first of all, look around you. This demographic representation does not happen by accident.
And know this:
In a
recent study on the Santa Barbara Unified School District, after controlling for the type of discipline incident, black students were 1.8 times more likely to be suspended than their white peers (that’s almost twice as likely) and Latinx students were 1.3 times more likely to be suspended than their white peers for the same type of incident.
We allow all of this to be true, even though we
know that suspensions and expulsions are unequivocally linked to poorer developmental outcomes for adolescents, including lower academic achievement, dropout, and increased behavioral problems both in and out of school, otherwise known as the
school-to-prison pipeline.
And still, based on polls, less than half of all Americans believe that racism is a major societal problem.
But it’s not really about what we believe, is it? It’s about what we do.
And what do we tend to do?
- We easily forget the timeline of events that has, for over four hundred years, stacked the deck in the favor of white Americans, and allowed us to be where we are.
- We convince ourselves that anyone could be here with us if they just worked hard enough.
- We refuse to acknowledge the data that show racism as a sociological fact that shapes life outcomes.
- And when we find ourselves in places where the majority of people look like us, whether it be our neighborhoods, events we attend like this one, or at the decision making table, we rarely ask ourselves, “How did it come to be that so few people of color are present? And what can we do about it?”
I know I’m making you uncomfortable. It’s good that you are uncomfortable.
Our discomfort with these facts is a measure of our humanity. I’m uncomfortable, too.
I even hope you’re angry-- as long as your anger is directed at the problem and not the person speaking openly about the problem, whether that be me or the folks from
Black Lives Matter.
Or, maybe you totally get it. You are angry at the problem. But I hear folks express outrage about the problem all of the time, and again the question is not about how we believe or what we feel, but what we do.
As I said earlier, I jump at the chance to speak to an audience full of successful people, because together we have the resources to make the future look different than the past.
I’m going to give you some ideas.
If you’re a member of the Association hosting this event, here are just a few resources you have:
Skills: Go to
www.taprootfoundation.org to enroll to offer your services or skills for free to an organization working toward justice and equity. Consider doing this as often as you are able.
Organizational leverage: If you are in any position of power, which I would argue we all are in some form, take a close look around the decision making table where you sit. Ask yourself who is missing and what you can do about it.
An audience: How could you use your platform or voice to spread information to folks in your circles of influence, like I’m doing right now? Whatever area of communications you’re in, select a racial justice angle or issue for your next project. If you are reluctant, take a deeper dive into understanding what’s stopping you and work to get over that.
Here are three things everyone can do, regardless of your profession or field:
Get on board: Email sbsurj@gmail.com to receive a weekly email with one specific, easy action you can perform.
Sometimes the task of openly addressing our history and ensuring a different future feels too daunting, and so we're tempted to ignore our role and let others handle it. If you feel overwhelmed by my words, I encourage you to consider this Jewish saying that keeps me motivated when it comes to making social change:
You are not obligated to complete the task, but neither are you excused from it.
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