Is My Silence Complicit or Respectful?
Positioning myself when the grief isn’t mine
I was partway through writing a story about rainbows, ghosts, and experiencing Montreal through this pandemic, when my thoughts kept drifting to George Floyd’s murder.
I found myself wondering if I should work these thoughts into my story.
The answer was clearly no. A resounding, absolute no. A what-was-I-thinking no.
There is a fine line between honouring and appropriating.
I am a forty-ish Canadian white woman from Montreal. When it comes to the public mourning happening across the US right now, I am a fifth cousin, twice-removed who nobody expects to show up at the funeral. No one assumes I should even send a card. Certainly, no one expects me to speak up. This grief isn’t mine.
Marley K. has an extensive list of all the reasons a white woman like me should take a step back and remain respectfully silent. I read every word of her piece Sometimes White People, You Should Just Be Silent. I paused to take in every uncomfortable sentence. Instead of assuming this didn’t apply to me (I couldn’t possibly be one of those white people, could I?), I tried to see myself in all of her painful points. I support her points.
I seriously considered silence.
Yet, I am over here in my cozy little Montreal apartment doubled over. Shaken to the core with rage and powerlessness and disgust.
I need to be part of the chorus of voices saying this is wrong.
This. Is. Wrong.
I keep flashing back to a moment as a teenager in a martial arts class where one of my fellow students put me, as instructed, in a choke hold. I felt the pressure on my throat and my airways constricting. I tried to breathe. I started to freak out. It was painful. I was scared. I couldn’t remember the counter-move that I was supposed to perform.
I finally remembered I could tap out.
I tapped. My partner let go. I was deeply shaken. My partner felt terrible.
My whole ordeal lasted about 7 seconds.
That police officer had a knee pressed against George Floyd’s neck for 8 minutes and 46 seconds.
George Floyd tried to tap out. He literally said “I can’t breathe.”
He was choked for 526 seconds.
He was choked for 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 35, 36, 37, 38, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 44, 45, 46, 47, 48, 49, 50, 51, 52, 53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100, 101, 102, 103, 104, 105, 106, 107, 108, 109, 110, 111, 112, 113, 114, 115, 116, 117, 118, 119, 120, 121, 122, 123, 124, 125, 126, 127, 128, 129, 130, 131, 132, 133, 134, 135, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140, 141, 142, 143, 144, 145, 146, 147, 148, 149, 150, 151, 152, 153, 154, 155, 156, 157, 158, 159, 160, 161, 162, 163, 164, 165, 166, 167, 168, 169, 170, 171, 172, 173, 174, 175, 176, 177, 178, 179, 180, 181, 182, 183, 184, 185, 186, 187, 188, 189, 190, 191, 192, 193, 194, 195, 196, 197, 198, 199, 200, 201, 202, 203, 204, 205, 206, 207, 208, 209, 210, 211, 212, 213, 214, 215, 216, 217, 218, 219, 220, 221, 222, 223, 224, 225, 226, 227, 228, 229, 230, 231, 232, 233, 234, 235, 236, 237, 238, 239, 240, 241, 242, 243, 244, 245, 246, 247, 248, 249, 250, 251, 252, 253, 254, 255, 256, 257, 258, 259, 260, 261, 262, 263, 264, 265, 266, 267, 268, 269, 270, 271, 272, 273, 274, 275, 276, 277, 278, 279, 280, 281, 282, 283, 284, 285, 286, 287, 288, 289, 290, 291, 292, 293, 294, 295, 296, 297, 298, 299, 300, 301, 302, 303, 304, 305, 306, 307, 308, 309, 310, 311, 312, 313, 314, 315, 316, 317, 318, 319, 320, 321, 322, 323, 324, 325, 326, 327, 328, 329, 330, 331, 332, 333, 334, 335, 336, 337, 338, 339, 340, 341, 342, 343, 344, 345, 346, 347, 348, 349, 350, 351, 352, 353, 354, 355, 356, 357, 358, 359, 360, 361, 362, 363, 364, 365, 366, 367, 368, 369, 370, 371, 372, 373, 374, 375, 376, 377, 378, 379, 380, 381, 382, 383, 384, 385, 386, 387, 388, 389, 390, 391, 392, 393, 394, 395, 396, 397, 398, 399, 400, 401, 402, 403, 404, 405, 406, 407, 408, 409, 410, 411, 412, 413, 414, 415, 416, 417, 418, 419, 420, 421, 422, 423, 424, 425, 426, 427, 428, 429, 430, 431, 432, 433, 434, 435, 436, 437, 438, 439, 440, 441, 442, 443, 444, 445, 446, 447, 448, 449, 450, 451, 452, 453, 454, 455, 456, 457, 458, 459, 460, 461, 462, 463, 464, 465, 466, 467, 468, 469, 470, 471, 472, 473, 474, 475, 476, 477, 478, 479, 480, 481, 482, 483, 484, 485, 486, 487, 488, 489, 490, 491, 492, 493, 494, 495, 496, 497, 498, 499, 500, 501, 502, 503, 504, 505, 506, 507, 508, 509, 510, 511, 512, 513, 514, 515, 516, 517, 518, 519, 520, 521, 522, 523, 524, 525, 526 seconds.
The only way I could imagine myself immobilizing someone with my knee and cutting off their capacity to breathe freely — for even a few seconds — would be from a place of absolute indifference or pure hate.
Even imagining myself in this scenario fills me with self-loathing and disgust.
Actively kneeling on a person for 526 seconds implies a refusal to believe that this is someone. That this is a human being.
This is dangerous, deadly racism that emerges from a system that privileges dehumanization.
What is happening in cities across the US is an expression of rage and grief that I cannot pretend to understand. I live a different reality. I understand how as a white Canadian woman that this grief cannot be mine. We have our own problems here. I have systems to help dismantle in my own country.
There is a fine line, however, between consciously engaging in respectful silence for a murder in another country and being complicit in an oppressive, global, white supremacist system where my pinky-peach life is valued more. A system where only I get to tap out — or even more likely — smile my way out of an improbable (for me) arrest. I can’t be silent about a system that dehumanizes and kills other humans but grants me safe passage.
I do want to be respectful. I do want to be caring. I do want to be supportive. I do want to be compassionately quiet.
I don’t want to be unconsciously silent.
