Dear readers, yes we finished the bathroom, but that’s not important right now.

When I started Madwomen in Attics, it was with the intention of moving beyond  home improvement. The name itself stems from feminist literature. It is about the marginalized and hidden away, out of sight. It is about dehumanization.

Say his name.

George Floyd.

The protests and riots are a symptom of a seemingly never-ending barrage of black and brown bodies being murdered by those in authority or those who feel they are in authority.

Say his name.

Ahmaud Arbery.

And I want to roll it back some. I want to tie in Amy Cooper’s Karen-ass and talk to my fellow white feminists. Unless you’ve been hiding under a rock, you know about how this white lady summoned up the whole of her privilege because Christian Cooper (no relation) had the audacity of being a black man asking her to leash her dog. From all accounts, Amy is not a MAGA-loving, Trumpista. I suspect she’d count herself among the progressives. I suspect she even believes she’s a good person.

But she isn’t.

Say his name.

John Crawford.

Do you know why she isn’t a good person? Because no one living in America today who doesn’t live under a rock understands that calling 911 and saying that an African American man is threatening you in Central Park has the distinct possibility of having that man’s life put in jeopardy. She absolutely, 100%, without a doubt knew that she would be believed, and without Christian’s video recording, his testimony of innocence would fall on deaf ears. Period. End of Story.

I’m not sure I believe her apology either. She needs to dig down deep and recognize her racist views.

Say her name.

Breonna Taylor.

So, we’ve got this white lady calling the cops on an innocent man, meanwhile, douchebag #2 is calling the cops on two black men using the building’s gym where they have a business office because he thinks they don’t belong.

Do you see where I’m going here?

Say his name.

Tamir Rice.

I’d put money on a ton of Americans today having had to read Harper Lee’s novel To Kill a Mockingbird in high school. Seems like it was required reading for almost everyone I knew. I’m sure you remember the plot, right? Black man is accused of assault by a white woman. Our narrator’s father is the black man’s attorney, and she untangles some complex racial issues as a kid. And all us white folk believe we’re Atticus or Scout, but most of us aren’t. Too many of us are the rest of the town willing to believe the white woman, and not Tom Robinson.

Say his name.

Philando Castile.

We’ve been socialized toward this end. The news shows us black and brown bodies as criminals. A large majority of shows and movies we watch show primarily white characters, especially in “good people” roles. This is our privilege. Where white is default. And default is good. And we don’t even think about it. We’ve got to unpack that. And, white ladies, we need to acknowledge the ways in which we perpetuate this. Please, please, read:

The Most Dangerous Person in America is the White Woman

If you get defensive, if you say “not me,” if you say “you don’t know my life,” read it again. Read it again, and again, and again.

Do you know why? Because at any moment, we could turn into Amy Cooper. We could use the weapon we carry with us every day. Because that’s what our privilege is to our black and brown brothers and sisters. It’s a weapon. We have it whether we ever choose to use it, but too many of us are using it. We’re using it to lash out at birdwatchers, and kids at the pool, and whomever else, and believe in our righteousness. And if you are not actively working to create a world in which this weapon no longer has power, then you are complicit.

So, what does all this have to do with protests and rioting?

Say her name.

Sandra Bland.

People are angry at being dehumanized. And we shouldn’t blame them. To turn to literature again, I want to bring up the final scene in Spike Lee’s film Do the Right Thing. In my former life as a college teacher, I used this film in one of my composition classes. At end, when tensions have built up and Radio Raheem is beaten to death by the cops, there’s a standoff at Sal’s pizzeria. And Mookie takes the first step toward rioting by throwing a trash can through the window. What happens? They burn down the pizzeria, but Sal and his sons are able to walk away unharmed. You see, the aggression is redirected toward the inanimate object rather than the flesh and blood. Again, let that sink in. When was the last time you felt truly and utterly voiceless? Have you?

Say his name.

Mike Brown.

I don’t know how to fix this. I’ll be the first to admit it. But, white people, it is on us to change the system that perpetuates these deaths. A lot of folks in my generation just thought when the old racists died off, it would be better. We need to stop making excuses for racist Uncle Jack and realize that our silence is seen as acceptance.

But most importantly, we need to listen, really listen, to the people of color who are in our lives and those who are letting their voices be heard. Believe them. Understand them.  And when the urge strikes you to say, “yeah, but….” Stop. Don’t. Say “I hear you” instead.

There are so many more names that could be added here. So go, find their stories. Know their names. They were fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers, sons, and daughters. And they mattered.