Selma is Now (On the commemoration of MLK, Jr.'s birthday and the 50th anniversary of the Selma protests)

My First Visit to the MLK. Jr. Memorial, July 2014

"One day, when the glory comes, it will be ours, it will be ours"

 - "Glory" by John Legend and Common

Yesterday afternoon, I went to see the movie "Selma," starring David Oyelowo and featuring Oprah Winfrey. The film was directed by an African-American woman, Ava DuVernay, of whom I'd heard because of a friend who works in the film industry. As a director, she is a relative newcomer to mainstream Hollywood, and while I have not seen her previous films, I understand the impact she's had on my friend, who is still working to achieve success in such a tough field, and I can appreciate how her integrity and work ethic as a filmmaker have led to where she is now, with Selma.

I speak of Ava DuVernay because, if you look at her IMDB, you can see that she's worked for many years in the film industry as a publicist, editor, writer and director. Selma is only her third feature film, and most may never have heard of her before this film, but as an African-American woman, she directed this film with such nuance that I think only an African-American woman could. As I watched the movie, I reflected on snippets of her interviews about "Selma," and I connected with Ms. DuVernay's voice in this film. "Selma" is about Martin Luther King, Jr., the struggle to bring the Voting Rights Act to pass, and the violence that protesters during the Civil Rights era suffered, but it was also about a man and the women who worked alongside him, women who stood at the front lines yet never received the same accolades or recognition as MLK, Jr., women and girls who were beaten and killed, not only because of their race, but because they were brave (and crazy) enough to raise their voices to demand justice and equal rights.

Scene from "Selma"

As I watched Selma, I could not help but realize that, while this had happened in the 1960's, it still resonates too strongly with the issues people of color face today. In one scene, the protesters got down on both knees and put their hands behind their heads. It made me think of the protests that have been occurring in recent months. The "Hands Up, Don't Shoot" gesture, demonstrating the gesture eyewitnesses have said that unarmed teen Michael Brown made as he was being shot by police officer Darren Wilson in Ferguson, Missouri in August of last year, flashed in my mind while watching the film. In that scene, 1965 and 2014 abruptly came together as one single moment, my heart and mind confused, angry, tired, and fearful all at once.

Howard University Protest

Watching the film, I appreciated all of the work of the activists who truly endured suffering during the Civil Rights era, but one question kept coming up in my mind, soul, and spirit: "WHY are we still struggling today?" Why are Black and Brown people in the United States still dealing with not only violence and injustice at the hands of those who are supposed to protect and serve, but even the Voting Rights Act - one of the most effective pieces of legislation to come out of the Civil Rights era - being tampered with by the Supreme Court and the states? Why are we still having to protest and organize over, not just equal access to voting, but the right to simply walk down the street without fear of being murdered for being Black?

Scene from "Selma"

Ferguson Protest

And as I watched, emotions churned within me, and I asked myself, "What am I doing, and what can I do, to contribute to this work?" I left the theater angry, sad, amazed, and proud. There was so much that the activists of the Civil Rights era did right, but the movement was literally assassinated by the murders of Martin Luther King, Jr. and Malcolm X, de facto segregation, poverty and unemployment, pouring drugs into urban communities, educational inequality, so on and so forth.

Ferguson Protest

A few weeks ago, I was forced to make this blog and my Twitter account private and block someone from my Facebook and LinkedIn accounts because I was being harassed for expressing my views on recent events. To make matters worse, this person is a retired police officer. I was afraid of what might happen to me and that I might possibly not get the help that I needed if the harassment progressed from social media to a physical confrontation. The fear is what caused me to stop talking about Ferguson, Eric Garner, police brutality, and social inequality. The fear of what might happen to me or my family caused me to lose my voice. 

Scene from "Selma"

While I am not against police, I am against police brutality and the excessive use of force. While I am not racist, I am against institutional racism and systemic inequality. While I do not hate men, I am most definitely a feminist. This morning, waking up with "Selma" and the Martin Luther King, Jr. holiday on my mind, I knew what I could do, and what I would do. 

I will use my voice again, and I will not let fear stop me from using my voice. 

Thank you, Martin Luther King, Jr. And thank you to the women in the struggle - I speak your names:

The Four Little Girls killed in Birmingham: 
Addie Mae Collins
Cynthia Wesley
Carole Robertson
Denise McNair

The Women in Selma:
Diane Nash
Annie Lee Cooper
Amelia Boynton Robinson
Viola Liuzzo
Coretta Scott King

And thank you, Ava DuVernay, for giving a woman's voice to this inspiring film.

"When the war is done, when it's all said and done, we'll cry 'Glory, Oh, Glory'" 

- "Glory" by John Legend and Common

Why I Won't Change for You

Courtesy of  www.ynaija.com

I seem to find myself in some kind of conflict with someone more often than I think most people do. I'm just putting it out there. Typically, if one finds oneself in the amount of tense situations that I have found myself in, people will be prone to think, and ask, "What are you doing to cause this?" or "If this is happening so much to you, don't you think you're the problem?" And, of course, I'm the first person to ask myself, "What am I doing wrong?" But when I reflect on the situations that have caused conflict, I can't think of anything wrong that I am doing, especially because I am being my genuine self.  When I ask for a specific answer to the question, "What am I doing wrong?" (and yes, I have asked this), I never get a specific answer.

The other day, I had a very unnecessary clash with someone who has access to my work calendar.  Every time I am unavailable, I block the time off in red so that no one schedules anything for me. I noticed that, even as I was moving meetings out of that time, more meetings were being scheduled, despite the fact that I had left a note within that time frame that said, "PLEASE DO NOT SCHEDULE APPOINTMENTS". I approached the person and asked, "Did you see the red area that said, 'Please do not schedule appointments'?" And the response was, "No, I didn't see it. I didn't know you didn't want me to schedule appointments."  And my response was, "It says 'Please do not schedule appointments'", in the same tone of voice I use all the time, except for when I am presenting or making a joke, which is really the only time I raise my voice.  Well, from that point on, I was accused of "arguing" and was told that I was not clear enough, although every time I block something in red, everyone knows that means "hands off" that time on my schedule, and again, I had written on my calendar a specific note not to schedule anything. This continued, and could have continued all day, because this person believed that they were being victimized and attacked by me and interrupted me every time I tried to express myself, so I left the room.

The following day, we had the obligatory meeting to make sure that we were all okay and would be able to work together.  In that meeting, I explained that I was merely asking a question and trying to clarify the situation. The person took the opportunity to tell me that I was being rude and mean.  I said, "In what way? I was asking a question." Well, the person didn't like my tone of voice. I explained that this is the way that I speak. And, in addition to several personal judgments about me and all of the things "on my plate", I was told: "WELL, YOU NEED TO CHANGE!" 

I once had an exchange with a student I was supervising who also didn't like my tone of voice. Whatever we were talking about, I was being serious, not laughing or joking. He said I was being aggressive and getting angry. And I said, "I'm actually not angry at all. I'm just not laughing or joking because this is a serious conversation." He said I was being aggressive, and I said, "No, I'm being assertive and you are uncomfortable with that. You're the one whose face is turning red, and who is starting to raise your voice. I have not changed my tone in this entire conversation."  I don't know if that student ever learned anything from that conversation, but I learned that, if you are a woman, and especially a woman of color, your very voice can be a source of discomfort for those with privilege.

A few months ago, I had an exchange with someone with whom I try to have as very little contact as possible. The person said, "You don't let me be a man". While he didn't offer any explanation for this, I continue to ask myself what he meant. Since I purposely avoid contact with him as much as humanly possible, I am left to believe that my mere presence threatens his masculinity.  

My voice is not high-pitched.  There's no "lilt" at the end that makes it sound as if I'm unsure of what I'm speaking about. I also try to communicate as directly as possible. Nowhere in these situations did I judge anyone, tell anyone what they were doing was wrong, or accuse anyone of being or doing something to harm me. I am careful in my communication with others to stay away from accusations. I learned about "I-statements" a long time ago, and I use them as often as possible, or I ask questions to make sure we are on the same page. However, in all of these situations, I was accused of attacking, being aggressive or combative.  

The truth is, I am very aware of my tendency to persist in seeking clarification and truth. I am also very aware that my questions cause discomfort because people have to reflect on their actions. While I am the first person to ask myself and others for feedback on what I am doing wrong, I notice that others would rather take the easy road and place blame on everyone else but themselves. And on many occasions when I have been passive-aggressively disregarded or disrespected and decided to directly confront people about it, the very act of telling someone how I feel causes the person to say I'm being mean, or victimizing them in some way. Then, instead of being the one who is hurt, I have suddenly been labeled the aggressor.

There is a perception that I am strong.  Often, I think this gives people license to push and prod at me in passive aggressive ways (because they're too scared to be direct). It's as if I don't have feelings, that I don't hurt. However, I am just as sensitive, if not more sensitive, than anyone I know.  

Being in charge of a women's leadership group gives me direct contact to many young women who are learning to find their voice. It puts me in a position to demonstrate direct communication, rather than the indirect or passive communication style that has placed women in subordinate positions in society. Even men will say, "I can't read your mind", to a woman, but when she speaks her mind, he thinks she's too aggressive, or - here comes the F-word....FEMINIST (oh, the horror!). The point is, we can't please everyone all of the time, but we can speak our minds and express ourselves so that we can move forward without constantly wondering if we were clear in communicating our intentions and desires.

There are young people, men and women, who are coming to me with their pain. It is stuck within them, deep in crevices they didn't even know they had, holding them back from all that they could potentially be. And because I use my voice, my authenticity, my confidence and strength, and yes, my vulnerability, to show them that IT IS OKAY to speak their minds, and to STOP APOLOGIZING for their presence in the spaces they occupy, they are learning to dig deep into those crevices and unearth that pain, so that they can move freely in this world, and BE WHO THEY WERE CREATED TO BE.

So, if you like me or don't, I WON'T CHANGE FOR YOU. If my mere presence makes you uncomfortable or makes you feel like less than, THAT'S YOUR PROBLEM. If you can't relate to my voice - that voice that is the amalgam of Brooklyn, Nuyorican, Spanglish, Brown, Activism, and LOVE - I will not apologize.  I am just sorry that you refuse to relate, because you are the one who is missing out.  

I am always changing, always reflecting, always growing, always learning.  But I do so on my own terms, not to satisfy someone else's comfort level or help them maintain their privilege.  To the young people I love with my whole heart - when you find your voice, don't let anyone try to take it away from you. Don't change for anyone but YOU.