It's hard to know what to write sometimes.  I think that there are so many ideas floating around and things that I want to say that it feels overwhelming to try to record such a jumbled disorganization of thoughts.

The first meeting happened about a month ago and actually didn't have any readings attached to it.  We hoped to make it a relaxed, friendly environment so veggies and dip, some beer, some wine.  I was a full-blown young adult.  The agenda:

>- welcome and brief intro to the train of thought inspiring the reading group
>- 5 min writing and sharing:
----> why we joined the group?
----> what we hope to get out of it?
----> what are our feelings about joining the group?
>- establish ground rules together
>- brief overview of the readings and the authors (their POV, identity)
>- 5 min writing and sharing:
----> what is identity?
----> why do folks claim identities? the purpose of identities?
----> what are my identities?
----> how do i think other people see my identity?
>- first set of readings introduced in more details (white privilege set)

I was moved.  Everyone involved was really brave about being honest about themselves: their thoughts, their fears and apprehensions, their feelings.  People really put themselves out there.  But what made such an impression on me was how moved folks were to be part of the group.  People shared that they were honored to be a part of the group, that they were proud to be engaging in this sort of discourse, that this was something that they regarded to be important in their own lives.

I was taken aback.  People seemed so affect by just being part of this exploration.  Maybe it's because I just kind of got used to this sort of discourse around me.  The program I was a part of after I graduated had "political education" sessions every month and retreats every six months that delved into these issues.  My good friends from college regularly send out articles and thoughts on these topics over email to share and discuss.  In most of my own social circles, we frequently talk about these sorts of things.  Most often, they're not even in formal discussions, just casual conversation.  So unconsciously I began to lose touch with how often most folks actually get the chance to talk about these things.

I think that it's the first time that I've truly understood what it means when white folks tell me that "they've just never had the opportunity or gotten to think about these sorts of things before."  I think previous to this experience I've understood that this is the case, but only in a rational sense.  And despite the slow progress that I've made over several intense discussions with close, white folks around me that I trust; internally, some part of me still didn't really understand what that meant.  Part of me believed that it was still, active, willful ignorance.

And I think part of me still believes that.  I think folks of privilege (a group in which I belong) can always be doing more to educate themselves about their own privilege and the consequences of that.  Furthermore, as humans, we can always be doing more to understand the lives of those around us and the systems that are at play.  But on the other hand, these folks seemed to be so moved; they seemed to be so touched; they seemed to think this was so important.  They almost seemed grateful to have had the opportunity to engage in this.  So how could it be that they were actively using their privilege to avoid in engaging in these issues as vehemently as I often allow myself to imagine they do?

The tentative reading list for the discussion group:
[reading one]

Peggy McIntosh: Unpacking the Invisible Backpack
Peggy McIntosh: responses to her working paper
Robert Jensen: White Privilege
Robert Jensen: More Thoughts on White Privilege
Robert Jensen: The Heart of Whiteness (selected essays: Race Words and Race Stories, The Fears of White People)

Beverly Daniel Tatum: "Why Are all the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria?" A Psychologist Explains the Development of Racial Identity, selected excerpts

Lisa Delpit: Other People's Children - Cultural Conflict in the Classroom, selected excerpts

bell hooks: Killing Rage - Ending Racism, selected essays
Audre Lorde: Sister, Outsider - Essays and Speeches, selected essays: The Uses of Anger

Paulo Freire: Pedagogy of the Oppressed, selected excerpts

After your first year of medical school you have the last summer vacation of your life.  And so I decided to make the most of it.  Part of my summer was spent in Taiwan, living with my grandmother, working on my chinese, doing some light shadowing, and, of course, reading.  A chance to catch up on the reading that you always say you'll do when you have more time: War and Peace, Pedagogy of the Oppressed, and Sister Outsider.  And time to reflect. lots of time to reflect.

It felt really good to be engaging in thoughts on social justice again.  On an intellectual level (not a "yo, lemme tell you about the messed up thing that happened and how it reflects an unfair system" level).  It was like a wave of revitalization traveling through my body.  For the most part Sister Outsider wasn't mind-blowing.  Not because Audre Lorde isn't fantastic (and far smarter and wiser than I) or because I don't agree with her, but because for the most part I felt like I had seen many of the ideas that she spoke on.  It wasn't life altering, but it definitely was reaffirming.  Like the difference between hearing a new song that makes your eyes pop open and replaying an old jam and grooving out.  You appreciate it, enjoy it, and pick up some new nuances, but your heart doesn't pound.

And then... and then... she says, "Militancy no longer means guns at high noon, if it ever did.  It means actively working for change, sometimes in the absence of any surety that change is coming... It means fighting despair." whoa. And suddenly my life snapped into focus.  The past year seemed to whirl through my head and I realized why I was so tired all the time. So deflated.  I had lost the feeling that what I was doing could possibly make a difference. And her statement rang through my thoughts again, "courage is actively working for change, sometimes in the absence of any surety that change is coming."

And I realized that I had been living the past year of my life scared.  And that I hadn't really been the same person that I used to identify as: strong and unintimidated.

As many times as it's happened, it's still hard to realize that you haven't been living up to your own expectations - that I will continue to disappoint myself.  I had been scared: scared of the new relationship I was in because I was scared of being hurt again after such a jarring break-up last fall; scared to take on big projects because I might fail; scared that I wasn't actually the radical, edgey activist that I used to identify as.

I had just been going through the motions.  I thought of all the activist groups that I had been a part of in the past year and how I had behaved: forward enough to seem like a leader, but never really taking any big risks either.  And more than that, always with the ultimate attitude that anything we did probably wouldn't matter anyway. I was going through the motions just enough so that I wouldn't have to admit to myself that I had changed; that I had given up.

But suddenly I felt empowered. Suddenly recognizing it meant that I was free to address it.  I was tired of being scared; tired of always feeling insecure in a fantastic relationship because of past baggage; tired of being angry with no hope; and tired from working on projects that were ultimately unfulfilling because they were never inspiring in the first place.  And I could change all that.

And so I started a reading group.  I wanted to target folks who had heard of the concept of privilege but had never really been given a framework or the space to really explore these topics.  Consider it Privilege 101.  But it's for a selfish reason.  I'd like to heal. I need to force myself to see the goodness in white folks again.  I need to feel engaged. I need a project that I feel has some teeth in it.  I need to believe that change can happen again, even if it's only on an individual level.  I'd like to be in a place where I can be loving and compassionate again.