On 'Moving On'
5 June 2020
Trying to jot some notes in the days of fall-out after the death of George Floyd in Minneapolis resulting from the heavy-handed (mis)conduct by police officers - one black man begging the group of white men in positions of power for his life - and I'm led to think once more about collective trauma and social justice. All the while in the UK, racially motivated violence and abuse are just as prevalent and the government are insisting we 'move on' from a virus that is only getting started and about which our understanding is shifting all the time.
Yet again, the public are being pummelled by political urgency on both sides of the Atlantic to already be in the post-times while the crisis is still ongoing and very far from any resolution. We are as post-Covid as we are post-racism and post-colonialism, that is, in truth, not really post at all. Until we confront our legacies and lineages, we are ever stuck in the present. Those of us who choose not to turn away regardless of remaining at home, are bearing witness to the formation and continuation of many mass traumas at once: most immediately, the cruel realities of white supremacy, fascism, prejudice and the desire to exert control, all during, for the UK and US, the worst (or perhaps the prelude to the worst) stretch of the Covid-19 pandemic.
Meanwhile, wars, state violence, mass displacement, the climate and ecological crises and systemic violence towards all kinds of minority and underprivileged groups have not gone away. They fester in the shadows while the media (are we also 'the media' on the socials?) by way of selective spotlighting shapes our responses to the overwhelming flow of information around us.
As a feminist and someone who - in a very small way compared to 'visibly different' migrants - has been othered while living in Britain, I grapple with the implications of the stay-at-home life in which I now find myself. It feels as if the virus, but really it is certain state responses to the virus, has conspired to set the clock back on equality rights for women, people of colour, migrants, the disabled and LGBTQ+ folk. We can't let this happen, and yet to protest places us in danger. I have my MP tortured as it is with letters, and as a BAME woman in the Labour Party, I don't think she needs a wee white girl telling her how it is on this one. I expect she's inundated, but I feel a compulsion to at least write to express my appreciation and solidarity as she speaks up amid the hateful braying from the old white men across the commons.
When I set to jotting down thoughts this week, I had wanted to link these issues with relevance to my research. That feels trite now that I've let some feelings flow, so perhaps I'll try next time if it's appropriate. The best way I know to process and confront the issues is by discussing them through examinations of culture. The conversations need to happen in every area of life, and as well as perpetuating harmful myths, culture is also a vessel for empathy and social change. What I will do for now is outline the tenuous train of thought I'd had.
When describing my Hirst project to my dear friend Sandra Johnston some time ago, she recommended reading Gene Ray's Terror and the Sublime in Art and Critical Theory (2004), aptly subtitled From Auschwitz to Hiroshima to September 11 and Beyond. Once again, I cannot remember the author of the tweet, but a pertinent post on my Twitter timeline on Monday asked why we should 'move on' from slavery but 'never forget' 9/11. The 3000+ people killed in the US that day in 2001, most of whom were in the employ of the World Trade Center and - to crudely generalise - were largely white innocents killed by brown terrorists, are memorialised on the site and elsewhere. Where are the memorials for the disproportionate amount of dark-skinned innocents being culled at once by the pandemic and by those who swore oaths to serve and protect everyone? Why are there still monuments erected for figures who enabled and perpetrated violence towards ethnic groups, the poor, the disabled, etc.?
While many of us didn't and don't personally inflict the harm, white people belong to a far, wide and deep legacy of exerting harm and we must confront that through learning, through listening, through being a protective barrier and using whatever level of privilege we may have to even the playing field. It's time we pulled each other up instead of kicking the ladder down after we've reached the top.
So, white men abolished slavery, did they? Maybe they started it in the first place.
White men kindly granted women the vote, did they?
Maybe they prevented women from ever having it and caved after women's undeniable efforts to keep the country going during a war caused by white men who then couldn't be seen to let the women go back to blowing up mail boxes or worse to demand their rights when their asking nicely for years did not work.
[not all] White men are historically praised for the generosity, ingenuity and gallantry in responding to problems they caused in the first place or took credit for identifying and fixing. But we're all complicit. We all perpetrate prejudice when we are bystanders. Even if all those of us with some privilege can do is amplify someone with a retweet or gently question the next racist notion you hear, know that it is the collective small actions that build the avalanche of revolutionary social change and justice.
Some artists' responses to the violence and protests: https://www.dezeen.com/2020/06/03/graphic-designers-illustration-resources-black-lives-matter/
Trying to jot some notes in the days of fall-out after the death of George Floyd in Minneapolis resulting from the heavy-handed (mis)conduct by police officers - one black man begging the group of white men in positions of power for his life - and I'm led to think once more about collective trauma and social justice. All the while in the UK, racially motivated violence and abuse are just as prevalent and the government are insisting we 'move on' from a virus that is only getting started and about which our understanding is shifting all the time.
Yet again, the public are being pummelled by political urgency on both sides of the Atlantic to already be in the post-times while the crisis is still ongoing and very far from any resolution. We are as post-Covid as we are post-racism and post-colonialism, that is, in truth, not really post at all. Until we confront our legacies and lineages, we are ever stuck in the present. Those of us who choose not to turn away regardless of remaining at home, are bearing witness to the formation and continuation of many mass traumas at once: most immediately, the cruel realities of white supremacy, fascism, prejudice and the desire to exert control, all during, for the UK and US, the worst (or perhaps the prelude to the worst) stretch of the Covid-19 pandemic.
Meanwhile, wars, state violence, mass displacement, the climate and ecological crises and systemic violence towards all kinds of minority and underprivileged groups have not gone away. They fester in the shadows while the media (are we also 'the media' on the socials?) by way of selective spotlighting shapes our responses to the overwhelming flow of information around us.
As a feminist and someone who - in a very small way compared to 'visibly different' migrants - has been othered while living in Britain, I grapple with the implications of the stay-at-home life in which I now find myself. It feels as if the virus, but really it is certain state responses to the virus, has conspired to set the clock back on equality rights for women, people of colour, migrants, the disabled and LGBTQ+ folk. We can't let this happen, and yet to protest places us in danger. I have my MP tortured as it is with letters, and as a BAME woman in the Labour Party, I don't think she needs a wee white girl telling her how it is on this one. I expect she's inundated, but I feel a compulsion to at least write to express my appreciation and solidarity as she speaks up amid the hateful braying from the old white men across the commons.
When I set to jotting down thoughts this week, I had wanted to link these issues with relevance to my research. That feels trite now that I've let some feelings flow, so perhaps I'll try next time if it's appropriate. The best way I know to process and confront the issues is by discussing them through examinations of culture. The conversations need to happen in every area of life, and as well as perpetuating harmful myths, culture is also a vessel for empathy and social change. What I will do for now is outline the tenuous train of thought I'd had.
When describing my Hirst project to my dear friend Sandra Johnston some time ago, she recommended reading Gene Ray's Terror and the Sublime in Art and Critical Theory (2004), aptly subtitled From Auschwitz to Hiroshima to September 11 and Beyond. Once again, I cannot remember the author of the tweet, but a pertinent post on my Twitter timeline on Monday asked why we should 'move on' from slavery but 'never forget' 9/11. The 3000+ people killed in the US that day in 2001, most of whom were in the employ of the World Trade Center and - to crudely generalise - were largely white innocents killed by brown terrorists, are memorialised on the site and elsewhere. Where are the memorials for the disproportionate amount of dark-skinned innocents being culled at once by the pandemic and by those who swore oaths to serve and protect everyone? Why are there still monuments erected for figures who enabled and perpetrated violence towards ethnic groups, the poor, the disabled, etc.?
While many of us didn't and don't personally inflict the harm, white people belong to a far, wide and deep legacy of exerting harm and we must confront that through learning, through listening, through being a protective barrier and using whatever level of privilege we may have to even the playing field. It's time we pulled each other up instead of kicking the ladder down after we've reached the top.
So, white men abolished slavery, did they? Maybe they started it in the first place.
White men kindly granted women the vote, did they?
Maybe they prevented women from ever having it and caved after women's undeniable efforts to keep the country going during a war caused by white men who then couldn't be seen to let the women go back to blowing up mail boxes or worse to demand their rights when their asking nicely for years did not work.
[not all] White men are historically praised for the generosity, ingenuity and gallantry in responding to problems they caused in the first place or took credit for identifying and fixing. But we're all complicit. We all perpetrate prejudice when we are bystanders. Even if all those of us with some privilege can do is amplify someone with a retweet or gently question the next racist notion you hear, know that it is the collective small actions that build the avalanche of revolutionary social change and justice.
Some artists' responses to the violence and protests: https://www.dezeen.com/2020/06/03/graphic-designers-illustration-resources-black-lives-matter/
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