This weekend, my Husband, our daughter Kaly (who is 12) and I finally watched the movie adaption of The Hate U Give, by Angie Thomas.
I read the book last year, even though I remember putting it off again and again. You see, there are books I know I have to read but the topic scares me for a reason or another, so I push back the date I’ll finally get to it. This was the case for The Hate U Give
If you want, I’ll talk more about this book in a specific blog-post because this one is not about it but about what it brought in my heart, again.
Kaly knew what the story was about (a teenage girl is the only witness of her best friend’s murder at the hands of a cop, to make it very short). It is about Black People. The story is about the pull of knowing where you come from, but wanting something more anyway. It is about family and friendship and community. But mostly, this story is about finding your voice and deciding: do you speak up or stay silent?
Art is my Voice
I am guilty. Guilty of not speaking up for what matters. For not being an advocate.
For the past couple years, I have been painting and using my art journals to process the feelings of injustice, of being on the wrong side of the skin tone color spectrum, of fear that I will die for something I did not commit. I am scared for myself, for my children, for my people. I am in rage, actually. But what do I do about it? Nothing. Because educating people is fucking exhausting, but if not us, then who?
“The Talk”
I knew we would have to talk about what this means. We are a mixed family (I am already from bi-racial parents, and my Husband is White… so we make a visually interesting bunch, the four of us.) I had THE TALK with my daughters a few years ago. That talk we have no other choice but to have: what do you do if you are arrested by a cop? I won’t lie: I am more scared to go to the US than I have ever been. It is safer here in Canada, but for how long? We can’t deny I am a woman of colour. Kaly is paler than I am but usually, people wonder. Mae is not visually near being Brown and my Husband is clearly White. I was asked in the past if I was the Mom (note: this fucking hurts).
My Husband and I are very different people, but somehow that might be why we work so well together. At some point in the story, Starr (the main protagonist) and her boyfriend (who is White) have a talk and she tells him “If you don’t see my blackness, then you don’t see me“. That’s when he tries to explain to her that he does see her skin colour, but it is not what he truly and deeply sees when he looks at her. And this is a discussion Chéri and I had over the years… Because he does not see my blackness either, and sometimes it is hard for me to talk about what it is to be a person of colour in a White family, that there will always be this disconnection between him and myself because of it.
Just thinking and writing about it makes me cry because this is a touchy subject. Something that is so difficult for me to articulate properly. But I feel like I have been silent for too long now, and I will speak my truth and use my weapon: my voice.
In the book, Angie Thomas uses 2Pac as a reference a lot.
The title comes from something he apparently said: “The Hate U Give Little Infants Fucks Everyone” (that is what his famous “THUG LIFE” stands for).
What do you think when you read this statement? Does it sound true, in your heart?
Such deep, deep wounding happens around race. You are so brave to look at it. I mean, I know you have no choice, because this fucking world we live in, but damn, girl. Just in awe of you right now.
I still feel in my bones stuff that happened to me as a child regarding to my race. And I am pretty sure my daughters are scarred too, for what people said to them… Thank you for seeing me beyond that.
I am crying now. I do not understand why the color of skin matters. I never have. I am so sorry that this world is so mean and scary. Yes you are brave!
oh Jean, I did not want to make anybody cry: I am very sorry.
Thank you for your courage, Francine. It’s so wrong that today’s society can make you feel this way, make you fear for your kids because of the colour of their skin. Until such time that it’s different, I will listen to your voice and those that echo your sentiments and support you however I can.
Thank you for listening and for witnessing, Sue. It means a lot.
I’m so sorry with my above reply, Nolwenn. I had your name wrong! So terrible. Thank you for not calling me out about it. My sentiments still stand.
No worries. I noticed and can even edit it but what would be the point? I am not here to make you feel bad about a mistake, it happens <3
Well, I think it’s a very kind gesture on your part. I knew I was replying to you but guess I had Francine on my mind, too. I felt mortified when I saw what I’d done.
Your video is a treat I will investigate tomorrow when not at work. <3
Sending you all the love today, Sue <3
Thank you for speaking your truth, for using your voice.
I’m with Jean, I never understood why color matters.
We all bleed the same. It makes no sense to me.
I am in awe of your braveness. <3
I don’t understand it either… maybe because skin color is the first visual difference the Human sees when looking at a stranger? I don’t know.
I don’t feel brave, but thank you Lisa.
I am so proud of you for working through your feelings and for speaking your truth. I hope you continue to do so. <3
I will. I believe that once you start speaking your Truth(s), there is no real going back. Is it?