This Is Woman's Work with Nicole Kalil - 021 / Black Lives Matter

Episode Date: June 24, 2020

This is the first podcast I’ve recorded since George Floyd’s death. The Black Lives Matter movement, all that has led up to and what has followed, has been at the forefront of my thoughts, and speaking about anything else just wouldn’t feel right. In this episode, I share my feelings of shame, my belief that we must act, and my commitment to listen and learn. I believe the burden to eradicate racism shouldn’t be passed from those responsible to those affected. It requires all people to stand up and speak up for the lives of Black people. That is my intention today, and my stand moving forward. This is Woman’s Work To learn more about what we are up to outside of this podcast, visit us at NicoleKalil.com

I am Nicole Khalil and you are listening to the This is Woman's Work podcast. Let me start by saying this is likely to be one of the most personal episodes I'll ever do. It's the first podcast I'll have recorded since George Floyd's death and doing anything other than speaking about it would feel very wrong, at least for me. And so I thought what I would do today, share a little bit of my story. I was born to a Mexican father and a German mother. I'm first generation American. And really for the bulk of my life, I've had the privilege of being perceived as a white woman. I am half Mexican, though I don't speak Spanish.

I did observe and experience what it was like to be a minority in this country through my father. I can remember as a small child, him being pulled over by a police officer and not being sure why, maybe he was speeding, I have no idea. But as a young kid, I wasn't sure why. But what really sunk in for me was when the police officer asked my father what he did for a living and whether or not he sold drugs because my dad drove a nice car. And hearing more stories like that throughout my lifetime and that one experience of actually being there, I can remember how angry I was. Like I was just thinking of things I wanted to say and wanted to do in my little brain at that time. And that was

just a very small taste because again, for the bulk of my life, I've had the privilege of being perceived by others as white. So I haven't had to face those experiences or that racism myself. As I got older, high school and into college, I became also very interested in learning more about Black history in America. I ended up becoming a sociology major, which isn't important, but in the course of that, I also earned a minor in Black studies. There was something about the horrificness, is that a word, of it that I just couldn't believe, couldn't understand how that could ever happen. And I thought by learning and by reading and by investing myself in it, maybe I could understand, which I don't. And maybe I would learn and be less likely to repeat anything that would create that type of thing. Basically, I wanted to make sure

that I would always end up on the right side of history. And while I was in college, my parents made the decision to become guardians for five boys from Ghana. In that, one of these boys became my brother. I think of him as my brother. I think of his wife as my sister-in-law. I think of his daughter as my niece. And I think, uh, and I think this became even more personal, even more real, as he began to share stories of his experience being a Black young man in America. And I'm sure he hasn't even shared half of what's happened or what he's faced, but I got some glimpses into it. So I share this, or rather, I don't share this because I think my experience compares to what black women, men, or children experience. I don't believe that at all. I'm not trying to say that I

get it or I understand their experience because of mine. I'm not sharing this to infer that I have more knowledge or that I'm more aware than anybody else. If anything, I feel more shame because of my experiences, because of what I know and have seen throughout my life. I share this only because these experiences have shaped me, who I am, and how I see the world. And every week, people listen to this podcast where I share my beliefs, my opinions, experiences, and perspectives. And to not speak about racism, to go on to another topic felt more wrong than the possibility and frankly probability

that I'm going to say some things wrong during the course of this episode. Because of these experiences, I firmly believe in white privilege and in gender privilege and heterosexual privilege and socioeconomic privilege. It isn't hard for me to believe that people are profiled, targeted, and murdered because of their skin color. I believe Black people and women when they say they've been victims of microaggressions, harassment, assault. And I believe that, I think, because of my experiences. Nothing makes me angrier than when somebody makes a false claim because that makes everything harder for those with real experiences. But I believe of the people who are courageous enough to share their stories, to stand up for themselves, and in doing so stand for others, there's only a very small

percent of false claims. There's probably significantly less in numbers of false claims than there are of people with real experiences who don't come forward. And I believe even those people are brave too, in a different way, because they still have to choose to move forward and to put one foot in front of the other and to forgive if they choose to, and ultimately to live. I feel shame because I've been, and I put this in air quotes, mostly living my values. Because the last few weeks have proven to me that I've been doing this only within a certain level of comfort. I've lived my experiences. I've heard people's stories. And I've watched and observed the pain and anger of black people and I've been quiet

at times where I shouldn't have been. Racism is the worst pandemic we're living with and while black lives are being harmed, it's white people who carry the blame. I'm listening to black voices, especially black women at this time. I'm listening with my heart and my head. I'm listening to learn, to change myself, and to be a witness to your stories and your pain. I won't stop listening and reading, and I'll remain committed. And I also believe the burden to eradicate racism shouldn't be passed from those responsible to those effective. I believe it requires white people to speak up, to stand with, to stand for the lives of black people. Glennon Doyle says that we can do hard things. I love that and it has become a mantra of mine.

I also think that we can do seemingly contradictory things. We can be committed and imperfect. We can be confident and make mistakes. We can be brave and also feel fear. We can listen and we can also speak. That is my intention. That is where I'm coming from today. Anything I've said that's been wrong or hurtful or insensitive are unintentional blind spots or biases of mine. And I'm open to being educated and growing. I'm also sure there are people listening whose buttons have been pushed, who see things very differently than I do, and that I've risked relationships, business, and again, air quotes, followers. Followers is such a weird term for me.

Anyway, I don't love that, but I can live with it. I have a quote that hangs in my office, shocking I know, that says, the woman you're becoming will cost you people, relationships, spaces, and material things. Choose her over everything. I'm doing that today because feeling comfortable in my own skin, because being able to look my brother and my niece and black women in the eye is more important than anything to me. So there you have it. And here's where I'll leave it for today. I set out to redefine what it means to be doing woman's work. That's the mission of this

podcast. One of our greatest opportunities as I see it is how we as women show up for other women, how we speak of other women, how we support other women, how we celebrate other women, how we love and lift up other women, and how we stand for the inherent value and worth that we all have as women. Until I, until we honor, salute, and fight with Black women, this mission can't be accomplished. So white women, I ask that we don't leave Black women to do all of the necessary work. We may all show up differently in our own unique ways, with our own different strengths, our own stories, resources, voices, and abilities, but we must show up as if lives depended on it because they do. And because showing up for others is something women have done since the beginning of time. Listening, loving, nurturing, having empathy. We can do that. Speaking, fighting, standing up for what we know is right.

We can do that too. We can do seemingly contradictory things. And this, my friends, my sisters, is woman's work.