On Drivers, Passengers, and Road Trips

When you're in a position where you have privilege, power, positionality, or some combination of the three, you are more than likely the driver—the driver of your destiny, your learning, your unlearning, and your personal development and growth, which means your privilege allows you to actively and passively drive things for others who aren't as centrally positioned. But one thing most people seem to neglect thinking about is that when you have so much power as the driver, you need to recognize that half the time, you think you should be driving but would be better off as a passenger.

Being a good passenger is equally as crucial as being a conscientious driver.

Evolving as a person is more about how you engage and absorb information, insights, and uncomfortable truths about yourself and the world around you than it is about being in control of everything. As a passenger, I've learned and unlearned many things. By being humble enough to let someone else take the wheel and giving them an equal share of my power, privilege, and positionality, I have grappled with my discomfort, ignorance, and the hurdles to my growth and development. And I honored those drivers in those moments by paying them back for their time and energy, amplifying their voices, and sharing my own time, energy, and resources to let them be passengers when they wanted to be. If we're all claiming to be on the same road and heading to the same destination, we should be taking shifts as the driver and passenger to give everyone on the trip the chance to be heard, seen, supported, elevated, and to rest, especially those with less privilege, power, and positionality.

That's one of the best road trips, y'all.

That's the road trip to liberation for all.

On Trayvon, Sandra, and Existing While Black

[Image description: pictures of Sandra Bland and Trayvon Martin. Both are smiling at the camera as their photographs are taken, which means they are smiling at the viewer.]

TW: police violence, murder, anti-Blackness.

This past Sunday, Trayvon Martin should've been celebrating his 28th birthday surrounded by friends and family.

Sandra Bland should be celebrating her 36th birthday today, surrounded by friends and family.

But they're not. They're gone because of whiteness, of white people, of a white society that has no issue with seeing Black people as a persistent danger for no reason outside of intolerance and hatred.

Blackness in the United States is simultaneously living in mourning and celebration. It's observing 28 scheduled days of Black achievement and pain in white spaces in front of white audiences looking to feel good about themselves while commodifying our existence as novelty and curiosity until we are deemed dangerous and expendable. Sometimes that expendability leads to reinforcing cycles of systemic and generational poverty.

Other times it comes in the form of trauma and death.

It is far too often the latter.

No matter what they tell you or what you've read, our deaths are never justifiable, especially considering how white domestic terrorists are handled in this country. Still, our harm and deaths are often unwarranted yet blamed on us as something we brought on ourselves. And yet we're expected to get up every day, put on a smile, and live with the fact that today could be the day we don't make it back home from a trip to the corner store or after getting pulled over for no damn reason. Somehow we face all of this and contribute to society and our communities in ways that help everyone, including white people, because that's who we are deep down inside. That's how we were raised, the descendants of enslaved people on unceded land. We were raised by people who, sadly enough, passed on the generational trauma they're carrying in their bodies and all of the "rules" that come with it. They didn't know they were; they were trying to protect the next generation. We've unconsciously embodied much of what was passed to us because we want what our parents, their parents, and their grandparent's parents wanted: to live without harm and without harming others.

To dream.

To live and love and achieve great things.

To not be murdered by white violence.

This is what it looks like to live while Black in the United States.

Trayvon should be 28.

Sandra should be 36.

But they aren't.

On the Tibetan Sand Fox and Invitations to the Cookout

Image description: a gallery of four pictures of the Tibetan Sand Fox. The Sand Fox has a natural expression of judgment on its face, complete with a side-eye glance. Above the fox images is the caption, "Me when white "professionals" speak up about racism one time in 100+ workplace situations they've witnessed then look over at me with a smile on their face like they've proven they're a staunch ally in the "war on racism." "

Hey, white "professionals." It's me, Pharoah. I just wanted to take a moment before y'all dive headlong into 2023 and that stack of anti-racism books you've got on your bedside table (because one of your resolutions for this year is to really get going on being anti-racist) to remind y'all that speaking up one time out of 100 times you witness racism, and white supremacy, happening in real-time does not get you an invite to the cookout.

Hell, it doesn't even get you a Lunchable and a Capri Sun.

For the 1,000th time, speaking up and calling other white "professionals" in and out for their racist and white supremacist behavior is not a fair-weather practice. You either speak up and call in and out your white "colleagues" for their behavior and action every time you see it (while checking yourself and your privilege) or don't bother. Every once-in-a-while "allyship" is something you're doing for yourself, so you feel like a "good person"; it ain't doin' nothin' for me and mine. It doesn't even help us at the moment you're doing your one-off "activism" because we [the melanated masses] know you won't be following your actions up by checking Bob from Accounting the next time he flies his white supremacy flag when your privilege and positionality allows you to do so without the ever-present fear of losing your job.

Consistency is the word of the day. And we [the melanated masses] know when y'all aren't going to be consistent but still want to get invited to the cookout so you can seek additional praise for your potato salad recipe with the pepitas and raisins in it.

If you aren't willing to fight through the discomfort of being in opposition with other white people daily, then you shouldn't sign up for this work or dupe yourself into thinking that the three times a year you say something to another white person will move the needle.

To paraphrase Shania Twain, "Okay, so you said something today after I've watched you stay silent for years and endured your private apologies away from the other white people at work every time harm has occurred my entire time working here.”

That don't impress me much.

All that performative action will do is get you an eternal side-eye.

I'll let you get back to them books on your bedside table. It looks like you haven't even creased the cover on the first one yet.

What a shame.

P.S.: This applies to your personal life, too. Active and engaged anti-racism ain't just a "thing you do at work."

On Social Media Scrolling and Inaccurate "DEI" Imagery

Image description: Two pictures. The left picture, labeled "equality," shows three people of varying heights (from L to R: tall, medium, short) standing on the same size wooden crates. They are all trying to look over a fence to watch a baseball game with varying success. The tall person can see the game; the medium person can barely look over the fence to see the game. The shortest person cannot see the game at all. The right picture, labeled "equity," shows the same three people watching the baseball game. However, this time the tallest person is not standing on a crate and can see the game. The medium-height person is standing on one box and can see the game. The shortest person is standing on two crates and can see the game.

Scrolling through my social media feeds, it is not lost on me that in the year of someone's Lord, 2022, some of us are still out here educating folx on the difference between equity and equality while watching some of y'all share that ancient picture with the people on the damn wooden crates, watching baseball, with one of your woke rants. Could someone please take that picture out back and put it out of its misery? It wasn't accurate when it was first rolled out to the masses 20-plus years ago and isn't an accurate visual depiction of equity and equality today. Equity and equality are more than standing on some crates, trying to watch a baseball game, literally or figuratively.

Let's break this down for what feels like the umpteenth time, shall we? Equality is typically defined as treating everyone the same and giving everyone access to the same opportunities. Equality, however, is not attainable without addressing the hurdles that intersect with white supremacist values and other discriminatory values and ideologies. These include but are not limited to racism, classism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, xenophobia, and ableism.

Equity refers to proportional representation (by race, class, gender, gender identity, disability, etc.) in those same opportunities. To achieve equity, policies and procedures may result in a necessary redistribution of resources to eliminate and mitigate the impacts of the systems and ideologies that threaten equal treatment for all.

There is no equality without equity.

Do you still think you can sum up the difference between equity and equality with some people standing on crates? And don't get me started on how ableist this image is.

Everything ain't meant to be summed up in a couple of images.

Everything can't be whittled down to a few visual Cliff Notes, especially regarding the health, safety, and access to rights, resources, and privileges of marginalized and intersectional identities in a biased and segregationist society.

The oppression of others ain't a meme, y'all.


[Image description: Two pictures. The left picture, labeled "equality," shows three people of varying heights (from L to R: tall, medium, short) standing on the same size wooden crates. They are all trying to look over a fence to watch a baseball game with varying success. The tall person can see the game; the medium person can barely look over the fence to see the game. The shortest person cannot see the game at all. The right picture, labeled "equity," shows the same three people watching the baseball game. However, this time the tallest person is not standing on a crate and can see the game. The medium-height person is standing on one box and can see the game. The shortest person is standing on two crates and can see the game.]