Memo to Myself (and Fellow White People)
This week, I grab pre-quarantine Kat by the shoulders and shake them into action.
Illustration by Ally Hart
DAY 58: IT’S NOT ABOUT YOU ANYMORE!
Dear Kat…
Your six weeks of six challenges are at an end. We’ve prematurely reached the end of total lockdown, and my challenge this week is to consolidate all that’s happened into one letter.
We both know that you are not a pessimist. You see the world in spots of sunshine. You pick and press every flower you come across, smile at the dogs of strangers, and see at least a smidgen of good in most of the people you come across.
You will have learnt about COVID-19 by the time you read this, back at the end of January. You were afraid then, but have calmed down now. Good for you, great news, but you will not stay calm for very long. The simple things you adore will be taken from you as the world unfurls into new heights of weirdly cinematic proportions every month. With every new hobby and obsession you pick up, a new injustice will face the world that you adore so much, and the pessimism will seep into your bubble.
You have done a lot over the years to seal that bubble up nice and tight, bubble wrap yourself away from the negativity that the media perpetuates. You hate being a nihilist for no real reason, but I’m afraid to tell you that for the first time in years, you might have to stop being a manic pixie dream girl for long enough to educate yourself.
Kat, the world is unkind. It is not sunflowers and gelato. It is not the smell of old books and the touch of a hand. It’s a disease that kills hundreds of thousands of people in just a few months. It’s the death of an innocent person for seemingly no other reason bar their existence and their skin color. It’s everything and everyone screaming for superiority and forgetting to wonder if basic humans deserve rights. It’s strong people being denied healthcare, the humanitarian crisis of a country in shreds.
You are not immune to the joylessness that the planet provides, and this letter is not to tell you that the world is rich and splendid and has so much to offer in spite of its many problems. You already know that, and you know it so obsessively that I know you tuck oppression into the back of your mind, a privilege that you can afford as a white person.
You cannot afford to do that anymore, and neither can the lives of thousands of innocent Black people, Black trans people, Black disabled, Black autistic, Black and wrongly scolded, shamed or locked away people.
You are going to need to burst your fucking bubble and walk away for two minutes in order to realize that you are not as important as the cause.
COVID-19 has sparked the unrest of rightfully angry people all over the globe. You will be upset, furious, and confused as to why the universe has stopped you from joining protests. You will engage in many exhausting conversations with family members. You will buy books and forget to read them. You will sweat and cry and scream at those who think the basic rights of human fucking beings deserve to be endangered, but you will have to just hold on, alright?
Hold on and fight. You will donate some money, sign a few dozen petitions, and although the Kat writing this letter will have not attended a march yet, you will hopefully march in unity with the Black people who, bottom line, deserve so much fucking better.
I encourage you to now wallow in your white guilt. It’s not necessary, and does absolutely nothing. Use your frustration as a key. You have powerful hands and a thousand pens at your disposal. Use them. At the same time, keep your voice down in favor of uplifting Black voices. It’s not essential for people to hear a rallying cry from a white person, but you have a quiet power.
Don’t stop talking in private spaces. Do not cease your anger. Get mad, Kat Albiston. Do not let people blame your anger on the pandemic. Your anger stems from the mistreatment of innocent Black people, and the way that society treats them as disposable and unworthy of 15 year campaigns, powerful letters, and statements.
By the way, no, you can’t go out without a face mask yet. Stop whining about your foggy glasses.
Lots of love and fury,
