Milspouses, Let’s Talk (and Listen) about Race

“See you soon,” I say. I give Andre a kiss and Autumn a high five. They are going on a father-daughter walk around beautiful Fort Leavenworth. Autumn is in the hiking pack (the fatherhood version of a rucksack). It has become a regular activity during COVID-19, giving me the chance to focus without my curious and energetic little lady running around the house. 

I watch them walk down the street and am overcome with both gratitude and a building sense of fear and sadness. This walk, on a military post, will be safe for my black husband and mixed-race daughter.

Living on a military installation, I don’t worry when he leaves at 6 a.m. for a run in his PTs. I don’t worry that he will come home to me. I feel Andre is safe in this little set-apart military community (not perfect, but I feel safer here than I do almost anywhere else in America). 

Soon we are PCS’ing to a small rural Pennsylvania town without a military presence… I can’t help but worry that he will no longer be safe when he leaves the house to go on a run around the neighborhood.

The recent murders of Ahmaud Arbrey, Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd have shaken up the United States. They have once again revealed the ways in which our country is still struggling with racism. Many white Americans are seeing with new eyes and finally starting to glimpse into the lived experience of our black countrymen and women. 

Over the past week, military leaders, from the Command Sergeant Major of the Air Force to current and former commanding generals, have weighed in on the racial tension in the country. The overwhelming message has been to engage in conversations. Most importantly for our white countrymen and women, the message has been to listen.

Growing up in a predominantly white community, I almost never thought about race. It was not “polite” for me to point out my whiteness. It was better to try and “not see any color.” I believed racism more or less ended with Martin Luther King, Jr. and the Civil Rights movement of the ’60s… The only racism that still existed was on the fringes of society. In college, my best friend was black. To me, our relationship was more evidence of how America had already arrived at a post-racist society. 

Then, when I started dating my best friend, my eyes were opened to a harsher truth.

I began to see the difference between the narrative and the reality. The narrative I learned was: we have overcome racism in the country. The reality is: we have only begun to recognize the lasting scars and continuing systems of racism that continue to oppress millions today.

I distinctly remember having a conversation with a friend after Andre and I started dating. My friend didn’t approve of the relationship. She couldn’t really come out and say why she didn’t think it was a good match. Like me, she grew up believing “it’s not ok to talk about race.” She loved Andre when he was my friend but did not think I should be dating him.

I was furious.

As more and more friends and family pushed back on my relationship, I realized the narrative I had been taught was not the reality.

It was shocking to me—world-altering, paradigm-shifting. I couldn’t go back.

I couldn’t see our country in the same way. Always a bit of a book nerd, I began to read and listen. Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States and Allan Johnson’s Privilege, Power, and Difference provided a foundation. Our country was built this way, initially on slavery and now on less outwardly visible racist policies (redlining, mass incarceration, police brutality, property taxes to fund schools). It pervades every aspect of our society. It touches every American heart.

Recognizing my own contribution to racism, my own biases, and the ways in which I benefit from the oppression of others was particularly painful to admit.

While I wanted to rage against the system, Andre—always my anchor and support—advocated for patience and grace. This was not new to him. As the son of a soldier, he had grown up all around the world, but he knew the racism that exists in America. He had the “talk” with his mom about the police, how as a young black man he would most likely be seen as a threat. His lived experience includes moments of overt racism against him and members of his family. 

Although he has every right to rage (we are a country built upon the freedom to protest and shout when we see something that needs changing), my philosopher/theologian/connector husband always seeks to understand.

His influence helped prevent me from burning bridges and destroying relationships. He showed me a way to bring people along, a way to give them space to learn, listen, ask questions, and turn away from the ways in which they were contributing to a system of racism. It has borne much fruit. In time, friends who once opposed our relationship have now become our advocates and allies. Their eyes are opening to the racism that still exists in each of us and in the broader culture/system of the United States.

We are in a national moment of mourning. Many white people are seeing—really seeing—for the first time. The murders of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and Ahmaud Arbrey (with the weight of hundreds before them) have finally seemed to pierce through the narrative that “America has overcome racism.” 

I have had more discussions about racism and white privilege with friends in the past week than I have had in the past 10 years. Overcome with frustration, guilt, rage against the system, confusion, and uncertainty, many are asking, “What can we do? What is the path forward?”

I speak as someone who has not “arrived.” My almost nine years of marriage to Andre has taught me there is always more to learn.

Always more revelations of ways in which I hold implicit bias.

Always more examples of policies that continue to oppress some and privilege others.

I will always walk this world as a white woman… I am still learning the ways in which I have benefitted and continue to benefit from my skin color. 

Because of Andre, I also have learned to have compassion for my fellow white countrymen and countrywomen who have also not yet “arrived.” It can be a disorienting and paradigm-shifting experience. But if you are seeing the injustice around you for the first time, I encourage you to lean in.

It may be a painful process, especially for milspouses who deeply love this country. The pain is part of the experience. It can shake your whole world to realize something you love isn’t what you once thought it was. By humbly listening and recognizing the ways in which our “racism is over in America” narrative is harmful and minimizes others’ experiences, we have the chance to create something more authentic. Something that more closely reflects the dream we have of the country our spouses serve.

I advocate that we, as Americans, take the time to listen and then act to make our country truly just and equitable. 

Here are some of the things that have really helped me see with new eyes. Some made me really uncomfortable, at first. Please feel free to share any resources that have helped your journeys.

• Seeing White—Scene on Radio: A fantastic 14-part documentary series exploring racial inequality. It walks through the history of modern racism and whiteness. If you have a hard time seeing yourself as “white” or feel like you wish we could “just get along,” this will help you see racism in a different way.

• How to be An Anti-Racist: I have listened to Ibram X. Kendi on Brené Brown’s podcast Unlocking Us and another Anti-Racist advocate (Andre Henry) on The Liturgists (both episodes are really helpful). I am just about to start listening to Kendi’s book. This book can be meaningful to everyone who wants to learn how to be an ally in the fight against racism. We must be more than just “not racist.” Change can only come when we actively work against racism both in ourselves and systemically. 

• So You Want to Talk About Race: Ijeoma Oluo helps us navigate ways to productively and respectfully talk about race. It was always taboo for me to talk about race growing up. I still am nervous and uncertain when I try to have conversations (or write blog articles) about race. She really helped me develop a foundation.

• Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates. A favorite high school teacher of mine recently posted this recommendation. I plan to dig into the book soon. It’s written as an impassioned letter from a father to his teenage son about being black in America. If you are looking for eyes to see… a glimpse into the reality for many black Americans, this may be a fantastic start.

• Campaign Zero: If you are hungry for systemic changes that work, this campaign researches strategies that have been proven to reduce violence and death from a systemic level. They are a platform of research-based policy solutions dedicated to ending police brutality in America.