image above by @griefuncovered.
I’m tired today. And my tired isn’t even a fraction of a fraction of what BIPOC feel every single day. Violence, ignorance, suffering, grief – all of it, plus no small number of boundary skirmishes around whose grief is valid and whose grief is worse.
We cannot advocate for a revolution in how we come to pain if we are not willing to look at the pain and suffering atop pain and suffering of BIPOC. We cannot advocate for personal sovereignty inside grief, can’t promote discussions of grief as a healthy, valid experience worthy of respect and kindness if we do not acknowledge that death and suffering affect BIPOC in disproportionate, stupid, violent, entirely preventable ways.
If we will not listen to grief in BIPOC communities, if we engage in compassion skirmishes, if we insist on saying “those poor people” but do nothing to help dismantle the systemic and individual racism that causes catastrophic levels of suffering – our revolution will fail. Has failed.
I know it’s overwhelming, friends. Especially when your own heart is broken. Name it. Honor it. And honor the grief you see around you – not just in words, but in deeds.
If you’re able, support BIPOC owned businesses. Donate to agencies doing on the ground work to improve the lives of communities of color. Be brave: if you are white, educate yourself on the ways systemic racism runs as a thread through your life even if you are committed to inclusion and justice.
Our grief revolution is about learning to listen to pain. To respond to it without platitudes or dismissive advice. To honor that pain as real and valid and deserving of care.