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Weekly newsletter 1.19.2021
Friends,
As a kid, I knew the Village Green in my hometown (Winnetka, IL) as the location of a fair that marked the end of the school year. Rides, booths, far too much sugar to consume...it was also one of the rare moments that kids from Catholic, private, and public schools mixed (though, despite this sudden diversity, I don’t remember anyone who wasn’t White). My first experience of performing happened during that fair - as a 3rd Grader, I was the fifth Woodstock-like bird from the left in a lip-sync production of “You’re A Good Man Charlie Brown.”
About seven years ago, I learned that, in July 1965, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. visited my hometown, and spoke to a crowd of nearly 10,000 on the Village Green. Initially, I was dismayed that this little nugget wasn’t part of my education, that the Green wasn’t revered as a secondary relic, a sacred spot where Dr. King stood and spoke truth to power - to a sea of affluent, White faces, but I know now that it was just one more deficiency, one more gap, one more piece in the puzzle of systemic racism and injustice. If we learned about Martin Luther King, Jr. in school at all, it was mostly because we got a day off because of him (you know, the “Dr. King talked about his dream, and then racism was over” approach). Then again, we also got days off in March in honor of Casimir Pulaski and St. Patrick, and all I can tell you about them from my childhood education is that Pulaski was a Polish aristocrat who fought in the Revolutionary War and St. Patrick rid the snakes in Ireland (well, there probably weren’t snakes to begin with, but #funwithhagiography). I asked my mom about the event, and when she told me that she was there, I almost passed out. “Well,” she said, “he was a very powerful speaker.” That’s all I got from her. What did he talk about? How did the town receive him? Were there protests? Nothing.
As a teacher in Boston, I got to teach several students who graduated from Mother Caroline Academy, an all-girls middle school that was tuition-free and served students with limited financial means. There are many praises to sing for that school, but I was struck by the confidence they worked to instill in their students. One student in particular was fiercely proud of her ability to deliver a portion of Dr. King’s “I have a dream” speech (I think I got to hear her deliver it three times) and I could see that the words and their meaning were infused into this student’s body and soul. She understood them in a way I never had, in a way I never would.
If the events of the past year have taught me anything, it’s that I waited far too long to ask important questions about race and systemic injustice. Now that I’m able to articulate questions and see the world in new (for me) ways, I’m eager to learn, to listen, to watch, to see, and to figure out where and how I can best respond. Today’s newsletter includes highlights of good stuff that has challenged me or revealed something to me. I hope they resonate with you, and if there are poems, videos, or other resources that have struck a chord with you or challenged you, please share them with me!
Updates
Registration for Symposia is open! The next two to launch are:
“Religious literacy: how to talk about religion without pissing anyone off” is a 6-week symposium on Thursdays that begins February 18
“Good Stuff II: talking about listening, seeing, feeling, and other ings” is a 4-week symposium on Mondays that begins March 1.
Full descriptions on my website. Symposia are limited to 10 participants and need 4 to run. If you’re eager for meaningful conversation away from the noise of current events, come join! For more details and to register, click here.
Guided meditations via Zoom continue! Mondays at 4:00pm PST. The aim is to practice being present - to ourselves, to others, and to the world. If you or someone you know could use a 20-30 minute dose of peace and quiet on Mondays, visit the meditation page on my site to sign up.
Good Stuff
This is the time of year when people mine the internet for pithy, powerful, and provocative quotes from Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. It’s a long stretch from his own time when King was largely reviled by the American public and subject to impossible scrutiny by the FBI. The effort for white folx to post quotes and images that hearken to the ideals that King embodied and proclaimed (and then turning around and unquestioningly upholding structures of systemic injustice and racism) is often criticized as performative, as a coopting of Dr. King’s impact and legacy that doesn’t bring his famously articulated dream of the Beloved Community to life. Instead, our annual reduction of Dr. King to bumper stickers and Instagram stories risks diluting Dr. King’s words to suit our palates. I share these recognizing that I risk performative allyship, but instead of picking a few choice words that, horoscopelike, could justify just about anything, I encourage you to take in these pieces in their entirety. Bring your whole self, the history you inherited and created and are. Bring your questions and honesty and openness. And bring all the hope you can muster.
Watch
In 1967, Martin Luther King, Jr. delivered one of his most powerful speeches to Barratt Junior High School in Philadelphia. When I served as a middle school principal, I showed the speech to my students as part of our observance of MLK Day. I wasn’t surprised that students hadn’t heard the speech before, but I was surprised that most of my colleagues hadn’t either. Dr. King preached and spoke to thousands across the country, and one might assume that, like most public figures, he’d water down his messaging for a group of middle schoolers. Instead, like a good educator, he takes his audience seriously and invites them into thoughtful reflection with the question, “What is in your life’s blueprint?” He treats their inquiry in broader historical, economic, and moral contexts and offers three principles for them to adhere to as they grow and contribute to the world. Their blueprints should cling to the principle of somebodiness (a “deep belief in your own dignity, your own worth and your own somebodiness”), determination to achieve excellence in whatever endeavors they pursue, whatever tasks they take, and commitment to the eternal principles of beauty, love, and justice.
Importantly, King integrates his commitment to nonviolence in terms that each person listening (that each of us today) can relate and rise to: “Don’t allow anybody to pull you so low as to make you hate them.” Advocating peaceful action, instead of “Burn, baby, burn,” he advocates the mottos “Build, baby, build,” “Organize, baby, organize,” “Learn, baby, learn so we can earn, baby, earn.” The speech ends with a rousing turn of phrase that has been adapted for and heard in various contexts. Sure, it’s pithy enough for a bumper sticker, but the message and the call to action carried in his words aren’t so trite that they should be so reduced. When I hear Dr. King deliver this speech - these final words in particular - I take them as marching orders.
If you can’t fly, run.
If you can’t run, walk.
If you can’t walk, crawl.
But by all means, keep moving!
Listen
A couple of years ago, Donald Glover hosted Saturday Night Live. Once a writer for “30 Rock” and ensemble star of “Community,” his creative output channeled into the series “Atlanta” and into his Childish Gambino persona. It was a great episode for many reasons - most of all his performance of “This is America,” timed with the online release of the song’s beautiful, stunning, and provocative video (trigger warning: the video includes gunshots and depictions of violence). The song and the video sit amid the contradictions of the experience of a Black man in America. I don’t pretend to understand all the references and the power of his storytelling (Time published a helpful interpretation by Guthrie Ramsay), but like all good art, the result is layered and revealing in multiple directions - part satire, part history, part sociology, part activism.
If you stream music on Spotify, I’ve started a playlist called “Bill’s Good Stuff,” including music I’ve loved for a long time as well as things I’ve come across more recently. Feel free to add the playlist to your favorites! Bill’s Good Stuff Spotify Playlist
Read
I recently stumbled across the work of Blaxican poet Leslé Honoré, and yesterday, on the observance of Dr. King’s birthday, I heard her deliver a startling and provocative piece, “Get Your Hands Off Our King,” Her poetry is activist and responsive to current events, but her poem “2021,” below, is an expansion on our typical greeting at the new year, capturing all the things we need to keep moving forward.
“2021”
Leslé Honoréi wish you love
kindness
understanding
i wish you abundance
that you will always have
more than enough
more than you need
so you can be generous
of heart and spiriti wish you peace
the kind that washes over your entire being
like cool waves
on warm shores
peace
knowing that the distance
is intentional
the endings
for a purpose
i wish you the peace
that comes
from honoring yourselfi wish you acceptance
of your past
your failures
your successes
your body, mind and souli wish you family that endures
friendships as close as genes
i wish you a village
linked and strongi wish you a voice
that speaks
even when it shakes
that announces dream
even if it has to whisperi wish you the magic
of manifestations
of ancestors wrapping you in light
of the god in you
ordering your steps
carving our destinyi wish you healin
of old wounds
old loves
old habits
cycles brokeni wish you music
art
poetry
dance
i wish you language for your souli wish you power
that empowers the powerless
i wish you boldness
fearlessness
i wish you empathyi wish you epiphanies
enlightenment
ascension
i wish you
joyful new beginnings
fresh new chapters
strength to start overi wish you
a happy new year*now look in the mirror
and read this to your beautiful self
speak life to yourself
love yourself
you are worthy*
