I am writing this entry in early April 2020 and posted a photo from February 17, 2020.
If and when we look back at this photo in a few years, the dates might seem quite insignificant.
However, it is very important that I timestamp this entry.
Why?
I'm writing it at the height (beginning? middle?) of a global pandemic.
A pandemic where terms like "social distancing," "flatten the curve," "N95," and "speaking moistly" are entrenched in our daily (Canadian) vernacular.
So why this photo?
A key purpose of this trip was for us (i.e. the white folk on the trip) to understand our positionality and whiteness within white supremacist systems of oppression (or racist power through racist policies). We (I in particular) had some tense conversations about 'non-Blacks' engaging in 'Black' topics/history/discourses.
I wanted whites to not only understand their (white) privilege, but to feel it.
But how can I reposition (reimagine) this photo in the context of my own privilege?
There is a growing conversation (and rightfully so) on the dispropotionate impacts of this pandemic on Black people in the United States. And a growing conversation on the lack of information on the impacts of Blacks in Canada.
But what about all those folks that we met in Accra, Cape Coast, and Kumasi? Those whose livelihoods depend on a tourism industry that is practically non-existent?
What about the owner (and my friend) of the company that exceeded our wildest dreams, who is smiling in this photo? What about our driver who did a phenonemal job navigating the traffic-jammed streets of Accra so we could take a photo?
This is where I have to pause. And bring forward an intersectional mea culpa of my privilege as a member of the intelligentsia.
Yes, I am Black.
Yes, folks that look like me are dying at much higher rates due to this virus.
Yes, folks that look like me are risking their lives providing 'essential' services, so I can order groceries online and be 'safe.'
Yes, folks that look like me in Canada, and across the globe, are losing their jobs and livelihoods due to the economic fall-out of this pandemic.
But, like the (white) folks on this trip, I must sit with the fact that I'm living (and writing this post) in relative security.
I have a job (in two industries that typically weather the impacts of an economic downturn).
I can distance socially.
I can afford (literally and figuratively) to withstand a recession.
I am Black.
But...
...I will be okay.
I can't say the same for the happiest person in this photo.
I've been very worried about how our friends in Ghana will hold up through this pandemic. Uprise Travel reaches out and supports so many people. Not just their own employees but people at all the sites visited during their tours. I doubt their government will be able to offer any monetary support for their lost income. Another feature of our Canadian privilege.
ReplyDeleteI am also aware of my personal privilege. Being retired I am assured of the same income coming in each month so I don't dare complain that I can't go out, can't visit friends or family, can't buy toilet paper and that our history class was cut short.
I am also privilege because I don't have to be on the front lines. I'm not a health care worker and not in the food business so my existence is not at high risk. I thank these brave people every day.
I hope we all survive this period of history.
No truer words have been said.
ReplyDeleteUprise supports a very big (micro) economy. At the same time, one thing I've learned and am learning, is that folks out that side are stronger than most. This will just be a blip.