My Climb Towards Liberation

Most of my life I've coped by letting so many things slide because I wasn't aware that I was in the fog as an “othered” person. If I did experience a bodily reaction, I didn't know what it was or how to name it and so that just went by the wayside as well. I survived by assimilating quite successfully into the dominant white culture.

Now, knowing what I know, I disrupt white supremacy culture by acknowledging that it has harmed me in many ways throughout my life. Through my Embracing Identity and Embracing Disruption online cohorts I’m learning to name it using specific words — racism, racist, white supremacy culture, privilege, white fragility, etc.

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I have conversations about it; mostly within brave spaces, with others who have felt marginalized at some point in their lives.

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Recently,  I ventured out to have conversations with an individual who hadn't had as much awareness raised around this. It got heated; the kind of heated where I literally felt the blood rushing up my neck and face as I tried to calmly explain what I meant when I said we live in a racist society. Later, as I thought about this particular conversation, I knew the other person and I were on different pages about words like racist and white supremacy, but why so different?

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The Stairs and the Elevator

I made sense of it by thinking of this analogy of two individuals — myself, a Person of Color and a white person, getting to, let's say the 10th floor of a building where a “Dismantling White Supremacy Culture” session would be taking place. There are two ways to get to the seminar: the stairs or the elevator. Society’s systems have long been placed so that I, as a Person of Color internalize the idea that the elevator is not accessible to me but is always accessible to the white person.

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As a Person of Color I have internalized racial oppression by perpetuating the thought that I have no choice and that it’s “my place” to take the stairs. The white person, feeling like they deserve to take the elevator every time, never has to think about accessibility to anything, anywhere. Generations have had the reinforced privilege of never having to question “their place,” thus perpetuating an internalized racial superiority because they feel entitled to take the elevator.

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Assuming the white individual and I both began with zero knowledge about the topic of dismantling white supremacy culture, we start our separate journeys to the 10th floor; they take the elevator and I take the stairs. Not only do I feel the physical work of climbing on the way up, but I also have time to read things on the wall — posters and signs of false messages upholding white supremacy culture like, “If you work harder, you can take the elevator next time!” or “Want to ride the elevator? Find out how by calling 1-800-ASSIMILATE.”

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Along the way, I discovered there are a couple of other People of Color climbing with me. By the time we reached the 10th floor, those of us who had taken the stairs had a lived experience that we could share, one to which the individual who had taken the elevator could not relate. Because of that difference in how we got to the 10th floor, it made the session on dismantling white supremacy culture much more challenging from the start.

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Since it was so easy for the person taking the elevator, they may not actually believe what I endured or the signs I read along the way while taking the stairs. And since most everyone else took the elevator, there’s a dominant group of people backing up this individual’s experience, while simultaneously undermining mine.

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This analogy of the stairs and the elevator really helped me to understand the chasm in my conversations about white supremacy culture with the person who hadn’t been in my online cohorts. I found myself explaining so much about what I was learning, at the same time dealing firsthand with the other person's white fragility.

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Even now, in the midst of this global pandemic, the curtains shielding the inequities against People of Color on all levels are exposed. Health — physical, mental and spiritual — as well as educational and economic disparity gaps are becoming wider by the day. This virus is disproportionately killing more People of Color than white people. The ability to engage in distance learning and homeschooling is the elevator. Clean and available water is the elevator. Health insurance is the elevator. Computers and internet access are the elevator. Protesting stay at home orders is the elevator. You get it.

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It took a pandemic to push me to step way out of my comfort zone and publish this.

I’ve had these thoughts swirling in my mind for a while now and they were crystallized during a cohort session with Embracing Equity where the discussion was about our lived experiences with racism. As I continue to learn, I reclaim my healing, power and support by praying, asking for guidance and giving gratitude in my language. I also seek out hearts who truly understand the struggle, especially for Indigenous women.

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Strengthening my role as a learner by participating in Embracing Equity courses, being part of the 2020-2021 Embracing Equity Leadership Residency, and engaging in anti-racist facilitation heals me by encouraging curiosity and finding a community to climb with.

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About the Author

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Esther Barela Bemis (she/her) was born to the A:shiwi Tribe, an Indigenous Pueblo called Zuni, nestled in west central New Mexico, near the Arizona border. Esther and her mother are matrilineal descendants of the Tobacco clan. Her father is Mexican. Esther is a recovering public school teacher but is still very much an educator. She is a wife of 25 years to Kirk and mom to 16 year-old Raina and two cats, Frosti and Gentleheart. Esther is a trained Primary Montessori guide under the Indigenous Montessori Institute and is always in search of her next educational contribution to her community.