It is Thursday night and I am sitting at the dinner table with the members of our house. The conversation turns to politics and the upcoming election in the United States. Everyone is eagerly discussing the topic -- except me. I have only been in Colombia for two weeks and I do not know enough Spanish to contribute much to the conversation. I desperately want to be part of the discussion because I have not had an in-depth conversation in over two weeks. Back in the United States, these are conversations I had on a regular basis and my opinion always carried some weight. However, in this new land, I am unable to add anything of substance to the conversation and no really seems to want to know what I have to say anyways. I attempt to mutter a couple words in my broken Spanish, but nothing of any substance comes out. I move into silence and finish my food, hoping dinner will end quickly and these feelings of vulnerability and powerlessness will go away, which they do.
These experiences are uncomfortable and humbling for a person of privilege. However, they offer us something important. Henry Nouwen, in his book Gracias, writes, “I, therefore, think that for those who are pulled in a strange land the Lord offers a unique chance.”
What is this unique chance? Nouwen continues, “When our traditional defense systems no longer are available and we are not able to control our own world, we often find ourselves experiencing again the feelings of vulnerability. The inability to express ourselves in words as well as the realization that everyone around us seems to understand life much better than we do.” This offered me a unique chance to think about hetero-patriarchy and white supremacy. Situations like this one are not something that people of privilege are use to. Generally, at home, the reality that has been created is one constructed for and by my race, class, gender, and sexual orientation. Everywhere I look society reflects back to me the reality of people like me through television, books, and the newspaper. It is easy for me to understand reality and participate in it.
The experience at the dinner table is a new one for me because there have been very few times in my life when I have struggled to be heard. We live in a world dominated by the conversations by white heterosexual males. In a group setting if people seem not to be taking my opinion seriously, I can speak louder and with more force, and it is totally acceptable. I can force my voice to be heard and people don’t wonder what is wrong with me. Society has told me that I have a right for my opinion to be heard and taken seriously all the time. When I speak about my reality people generally accept it to be true. In more simple words, the truth is that my voice holds more weight than others because of a system of hetero-patriarchy and white supremacy.
Unfortunately, it is the experiences of many people in the world. Over the past week I have begun to wonder: whose voice is excluded from my table? Do white heterosexual-male voices hold more weight in the conversations around the “dinner table?” Who is able to control my world – the spaces I participate in? Who has constructed our reality? Knowing the answers to these questions, what can I do to open room for other voices to be heard?
The experience at the dinner table taught me a great lesson. I know an important part of undoing oppressions is calling it out when I am able to see it. I need to say: “That’s racism!,” “That’s sexism!,” or any “-ism.” But at the dinner table on this night, I learned a different lesson. As a person of privilege – a white male, I don’t need to be part of every conversation. If I am serious about the work of undoing oppressions, sometimes I am going to have to learn to be silent. I am going to have to make room of other important voices to be heard. I am going to have to learn to listen deeply. Sometimes this may be necessary during times that I have strong opinions. Maybe, even when really important decisions are being made. This is not something that I am used too. Feelings of vulnerability and powerlessness will rise up within me and this will be uncomfortable. It will take practice to become comfortable in that silence. But hopefully after much time and practice these feelings will pass and soon make room for mutual liberation.
Chris Knestrick
3 comments:
Thank you for this, Chris. I think it's a really superb reflection.
On a different note, I am excited for your Spanish to continue to improve and grow. I know it will. Hope to see you before the next retreat :)
Thanks so much for sharing this, Chris. Know that all your brothers and sisters at WRL are thinking about you and sending you positive protective energy. I'll send a reminder to your colleagues on the NC to check out your blog so we can keep up with your work and with your insights on your experiences. All the best.
Linda Thurston, WRL
It is a curious thing to devote a part or whole of your life to a place or particular movement and vaguely be aware of "isms" from a personal and a singular cultural aspect; then once emerged in devotion how suddenly everything you were once aware of, is renewed, personal, and foreign. We have had many of these conversations and in light of those, I think guilt is important, but this is one time I believe it may get in the way of getting down to the roots of the oppression, changing it in a personal way, and understanding communities you live and fall in love with away from home. Remember as hard as vulnerability is, it is so beautiful to learn through. And it makes me smile to hear how you are aware of the ways you are heard and why. It is in fact beautiful to hear in your words so emotional and so completely from your heart. And also that you are sitting back and listening. Breathe darlin', the universe is showing you what you are asking to see. We love you Chris and will missing you on Cylis' 1st birthday celebration.
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