I’ll admit it. I’m a tone deaf white person. Not as much as I have been in the past, but still tone deaf. Those of you who know me might be confused by this. After all, I’ve raised two black daughters and I’ve been to Haiti where they come from many times. I’ve made the effort to spend time with black people and read black authors, and yet, I’m still tone deaf.
Let me explain with a true story.
I’ve been in plenty of scary situations throughout my life, but one of the scariest ones was the time I and my family were stranded in the middle of Port Au Prince, Haiti after dark.
It would be an understatement to say that the people of Haiti, historically, have not had a good experience with white people. After all, it was white people who brought them there as slaves in the first place, white people who bankrupted their country after they freed themselves and white people who continue to play a part in keeping them in the cycle of poverty they remain in to this day.
Port Au Prince isn’t a particularly safe city to live in in you are a black Haitian. It’s an EXTREMELY unsafe city to be in, especially after dark if you are a white person. It’s also incredible how fast the sun sets that close to the equator.
We had just spent a wonderful day as a family, visiting my children’s extended birth family. They had fed us supper and a friend of the family who owned a car (such as it was) had offered to drive us back to our guest house. About half way there, the car fell apart and we were stranded there with our driver who didn’t speak much english. It was still daylight and we were not yet concerned. He got on the phone and arranged for another car. As we waited, the sun quickly set and I became very conscious of my white skin and the danger I and my family were potentially in because of it. White skin in Haiti means that you are rich. People constantly beg from me there. Kidnapping is also a possibility. White skin is often conflated with oppression. Retributive violence is a possibility.
With this knowledge, I was hyper aware of my surroundings. Always looking for danger, scared not just for me, but my family…praying that our car would arrive. The car did come along and brought us back to the safety of our guest house. A few days later we flew home to our wealthy and safe country of Canada where we never experience discrimination because of the colour of our skin.
Safe and sound.
Here’s the thing: If you are a black person in America, you don’t have that option. What I experienced in Port Au Prince is called normal life for them. There is always discrimination and the potential for danger because of the colour of their skin. Could I point out that it is also undeserving discrimination?
This is why I’m still tone deaf. Let me say it again—What my black brothers and sisters experience as normal, everyday life, I’ve only experienced temporarily—with knowledge of its temporality. I have never had to live like they do every day.
Lately I’ve heard white people say stuff like, “Where are the riots when this unarmed white girl was killed by the police”. Let me use this illustration to show how stupid and tone deaf this statement is: Imagine that I walk up to someone who is grieving as they have lost their entire family in a car wreck in which they are the only survivor. I say, “I understand what you are going through. I had a pet goldfish die when I was five years old. Don’t worry. You’ll get over it.” This is the same disparity in life experience. I will never be able to relate to it.
Here’s my advice to white people:
-When you hear, “black lives matter”, don’t EVER say, “well…all lives matter”.
-Don’t try to deny the reality of white privilege.
-Don’t even think that you can understand what it’s like to walk in a black persons shoes. You can’t.
-Be humble enough to listen to them without giving advice.
-Hear their stories—learn from them.
-Weep with them.
-March with them.
-Speak out against inequality.
Don’t be a part of the problem.