sustainability

Recently, I received an email from an organization in my community asking local “white allies” who qualified for $600 Covid-relief checks to contribute these funds to BIPOC community members in need. Apparently, this was the second time this call to action has been raised in my community. After the first, 30+ white people contributed nearly $17,000 of government funds to 20+ BIPOC families. Members of the organization were “humbled,” “touched,” and “inspired” by the local response.

I too had a reaction—a strong one, actually—to the message I received in this call for the “equitable reallocation” of government-manufactured resources from white to black. However, “inspired” is not the word I would have used to describe it. 

I’ve been thinking about sustainability lately. To me, that which is sustainable is enduring and productive. Its net consumption does not exceed its creative capacity. That which is sustainable neither takes more than it gives, nor depletes resources in order to survive. Rather, it is self-supportive and self-regulating. It prioritizes long-term impact over short-term gains. To endure, it tips the scale of homeostasis to regeneration. To me, sustainability is inspiring. 

At the height of Covid-19 restrictions, my 15-year old son was furloughed from his part-time restaurant job. He was advised by his employer to seek unemployment benefits. Instead, he went and got another job. A 17-year old family friend received the same counsel. She collected far more money on unemployment than she ever made at work, so rather than seeking alternatives, she shopped. 

I was rewarded for losing work in 2020. Nevertheless, in response to the Covid curveball, I re-upped my freelance pursuits. Curiously, when we sought to refinance our house, the lender had a real problem with me—a black woman trying to do for herself—creating my own opportunities to earn income vs. relying on an employer to pay my way. As I researched “merit-based” scholarships to support my own efforts to pivot, invest in my personal development, and continue my education, I was informed that I didn’t qualify because my 2019 income was “too high.”   

“Why would I ever want to go back to work?” I’ve heard one-too-many teenagers ask of late. And I agree, why would anyone?

I wonder about the effectiveness of programs and policies designed to penalize progress and diminish differentiation. I feel frustrated by “allies” who preach at me about diversity, equity, and inclusion then stifle opportunities for me to help myself. I’m suspect of the assumption that enslavement to an employer is the better way or that colorless old-guard institutions know what’s better for me than I for myself.

Although I too am moved by radical acts of generosity, reciprocity, and kindness, I wonder about the sustainability of reparations that might cover a fraction of a family’s monthly expenses at best, and then what? I’m curious—how many more “inspiring” community initiatives are we going to create that reinforce subconscious beliefs of white superiority and perpetuate misassumptions of black inferiority and dependency? 

The disproportionate effects of Covid-19 on people of color in this country are alarming and undeniable. Generations of light Americans have benifited, and continue to, from the exploitation and subjugation of darker ones. The residual trauma from old scars and fresh wounds is palpable and thick. And the economic, psychological, and systemic implications are profound and must be acknowledged and addressed. These issues are complex; they’re not black and white, so of course neither are their solutions.

Yes, there are real advantages that come with a 400-year head start. And yes, there are real disadvantages that come over generations of suppression and diminishment. But far more dangerous, in my opinion, is the insidious plague that pins select people down by reinforcing lies of insufficiency. Perilous is the program that gives more “white allies” another reason to preach and pat themselves on the back. I’m tired of hearing the narrative that black people need white relief in order to survive. It’s patronizing, harmful, and simply untrue. 

Such reparations are a band-aid solution that offer temporary relief but sidestep lasting progress and transformation. They’re another convenient distraction that misdirect attention from fabric-level issues that require deep work, discomfort, and thread-level change. And a program, policy, or initiative that promotes such destruction—making people just comfortable enough not to think critically or to do the hard work that growth, change, and progress require—is a threat.  

We cannot continue to hide behind smoke and mirrors as we deplete resources until they're gone. We cannot continue to eschew responsibility and bolster our egos and bank accounts with federal funny money. We cannot continue to penalize excellence, reinforce dependency, and celebrate mediocrity. No. 

We must create. We must innovate. We must regenerate to reverse the damage of the past and to flourish in the future. We must be willing to brave the inconvenience and discomfort that evolution requires. We—BIPOC brothers and sisters especially—must stop looking backward and turn our gaze forward. We must care for ourselves and one another. We must inhabit and promulgate the TRUTH about ourselves—an exceptional people of resilience and strength. And in our “radical” efforts to “rebalance” the scales, I believe we must continually ask ourselves, “Is this sustainable?”