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Bridging Our Understanding of Racism (Part 1)

Image Credit: https://www.benjerry.com

I felt that an introductory post would be a good way to kick off this saga of seven posts that all address contemporary racism in its own way. And no, I am not talking about the past. I am not talking about the great feats of Martin Luther King Jr. Instead, I am writing about the racism that goes on every day in the United States. The system of inequality that exists in this country. One that many people believe is a thing of the past, or is something that they can do nothing about. 

I should probably explain where this all started. My name is Jacob West and I am from Upstate New York, and as you may have guessed by my name alone… society identifies me as white. As the previous sentence shows, I grew up in what Elijah Anderson would easily classify as a white space. For most of my life I was completely alienated from the issue of racism. 

Now let me attempt to quickly clarify the common white space view. As George Lipsitz has put it, “whiteness doesn’t have to speak its name.” Therefore, I knew racism was an issue, but I did not understand it because I have never felt it. At the time, I saw the discussion on racism as a misconception. I saw the oppression people of color face as an after effect of the years of slavery.  This made sense to me because I looked at the matter solely from an economic perspective. I looked at the objective facts but misunderstood the causality of those facts. 

For example, the average African-American appears less qualified in the job market when compared to their white counterparts. Due to the greater opportunities and quality of education whites are on average provided, black Americans are consistently disadvantaged. These are all objective facts, but what I misunderstood at the time was why this difference in education came to be. At first, I thought that’s just how things were because better education is directly connected with wealth, which the average black American has less of when compared to their white peers. Yet, after reading on the subject, I have discovered deliberate segregation between the quality of education young American’s receive, which I will go into detail in the following posts. In other words, rather than believing racism is actively happening throughout society, I believed that racism was a thing of the past and that people of color simply needed to economically catch up.

** This “post-racial” thinking of solely focusing on economics has been the root of, in my opinion, all of these disconnects in truth and disillusion. I simply wanted to add this paragraph as I have to emphasize the significance of this statement. Seeing racism through nothing more but the lens of economics misses direct legal components playing into institutional inequality and how economic position also does not erase stereotypes (Lipsitz, 2007). **

Sadly, I was not alone with this belief. This common white space misconception exists because it makes sense for the environment these people are within. Being withdrawn from social and racial issues, the people within these spaces simply do not see or experience issues outside of economic ones and therefore believe racism must pertain to the only issue they relate to.

The problem with this lies in the fact that just because someone is not present to hear something, does not mean a noise is not made.  What I mean by this is that people within white spaces can still have a racist mindset, even if there is nobody for them to be actively racist towards. Therefore, subconscious racism forms in the culture and eventually normalizes ever so passively.

Through these seven posts, I hope to open the minds of these white space individuals, while also empowering the minds of these already present activists. Looking at implicit bias, a redefining of racism, and questioning racial norms, I hope anyone can pull some sort of useful information from these posts. 

I was born in a white space, and therefore rationalized my understanding of the white space. My understanding of this other perspective, this true perspective, has only started to develop as I have begun to learn and hunt for knowledge that goes against my own beliefs and experiences at the time. Only when I developed this questioning philosophy, did I begin to see this very pressing issue that is in fact separate from economic struggle. 

If you are reading this as an outsider, someone who has made their views outside of the mindset of racism, just as I did, I encourage you to continue reading every Wednesday and Sunday. I know it can be hard, trust me, I’ve been there, but sometimes the best thing to do is just read and listen to a view contrary to your own. To open one’s reasoning is to allow growth. And personally, I find growth to be one of the most important parts of being human. We need to allow each other to speak and listen to one another no matter the topic, and who knows, you may find that the systems we live by are a bit more controlling than you first thought.

The Whole Series is Now Available:

Bridging Our Understanding of Racism (Part 1)

Redefining Racism (Part 2)

How Unnatural Racism Is (Part 3)

Implicit Racism, the Racism you Never Knew About (Part 4)

Is the NBA Racist? (Part 5)

Just How Present is Racism? (Part 6)

It’s Time to Take Action Against Racism (Part 7)

Work Cited:

Lipsitz, G. (2007). The Racialization of Space and the Spatialization of Race: Theorizing the Hidden Architecture of Landscape. Landscape Journal,26(1), 10-23. Retrieved March 28, 2020, from www.jstor.org/stable/43323751

Keywords: LiveLifeLiberated, My Rage against Racism, Systematic Racism, My views on Racism, What is systematic racism? United States, Black Lives Matter, BLM, All Lives Matter, Blue Lives Matter, Protests, Current Events, Police Brutality, George Floyd, Trayvon Martin, Tamir Rice, Michael Brown, Eric Garner, Philando Castile, Breonna TaylorJamar Clark, Philando Castile, Police Protests, Black people, white people

Where are the Bad Guys?

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So there I was hanging out with my favorite dining hall worker, killing some time. As a Binghamton University student life can get a bit boring waiting for your food to be ready. Therefore, I typically spend time talking to an assortment of dining hall workers. They never fail to share a fun and slightly illegal story with me.

Catching up on life, my favorite worker explained that she was having continued issues with her daughter. Apparently, this six-year-old squirt already learned the words “fat bitch”. And between punching holes in the walls of the house and stabbing her brother’s eye with a fork, the kid seemed like a true monster. But rather quickly I began to wonder how this monster came to be.

Following up on the shocking story with a few questions, I began to understand the source of all this chaos. As the worker answered my questions, it became clear that the mother was not a ‘mom’ for her daughter until the child’s grandmother passed away. Before the grandmother’s death, the child was essentially raised by her grandmother, not her mother. It was not until the grandmother’s death that the dining hall worker began the full-time career of raising her daughter. This, as you can probably imagine, led to a number of issues. In many respects, the child had lost her “adopted mom” and was replaced by her biological mother.

Once that was established, I assumed the portrait was complete, but I quickly found out there was more to be painted. After asking if the worker ever disciplined her daughter, I was baffled to hear her response.  She responded with, “Hell yeah I do! I beat the shit out of her! I hit her with a belt, but the belt may not be hard enough because she still doesn’t listen to me.”

It took me a second to collect my thoughts. I had always admired this dining hall worker. Yeah, she had a short temper, but you could tell she had a big heart. She cares for the students, each and every one of them. Between the special meals she would optionally make to add to our choices, and the happy face that she seemed to always wear, I found her to be a great worker. But on top of that, I found her to be a great person. She just made me happy and I enjoyed talking to her. Anyone who can do that deserves at least a little recognition.

But there I was, stuck between two worlds. Was she the hero worker who always brightened my dinners or the evil beater of her child? I concluded at that moment she was in fact both, and in better words, she was neither. She was no hero and she was no villain. She was just a confused parent. One that wanted the best for her kid, but had no idea what she was doing.

I looked at her for a little bit and offered an alternative. I don’t know if it is the best one, and I didn’t know if it would work. But what I do know is that I had to offer some alternative, some other way for her to raise her child.

I asked if she loved her child, and she looked at me, almost hurt, and said of course. Then I asked if she wanted the best for her daughter, and again, she said of course. Taking a moment before responding, I said, “Then show it, show her”. I told her to hug her daughter when she screamed. I told her to hold her child with care as she attempted to blow another hole in the wall. And most of all, I told her to never hit her child again.

Sometimes all we need to do is show a little love. It was obvious that the worker’s child was hurting inside. And it was even more obvious that the worker had no idea what to do about it. The worker later admitted that she was in fact beaten as a child, and therefore knew nothing else. It worked for her, so it only made sense to her that it would work on her daughter. But in reality, it wasn’t working, it was just hurting.

Ever since our talk, she has stopped beating her six-year-old daughter. She did what I asked, and both she and her husband decided together to try this new idea. They replaced their fists with hugs and held her just tight enough as their daughter misbehaved. They showed her that they loved her in a healthy, kind way. One that they had not experienced from their parents, but a better one nonetheless.

The last time I talked to the worker she explained that her daughter was doing great. She wasn’t lashing out like she used to. She stopped punching and hurting through her pain. The worker explained that she was just overall happier. The worker’s daughter was still hurting, but now, for the first time in her life, she had a healthy outlet. And with that outlet will hopefully come a mostly functional and restored family.

My friend, the dining hall worker, is not a bad person. Beating her child with a belt is a bad thing to do, but sometimes people do bad things with the best intentions. For the most part, there are no bad people, just misinformed people. They are just people who think they know what is best because the worst is all they were taught. Because the worst is what made them themselves, and now they act as they know-how.

There is a way to change this, but judging is not one of them. I could have judged my friend and ended the conversation. I could have walked away, or yelled at her, or maybe even try to get her fired. But I did none of that. I just showed her compassion and care. I don’t think this method works for everyone, which is what makes this a bit tricky, but just because it doesn’t work every time doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be attempted when the time feels right. 

Sometimes we just need to show others the way, not in a belittling way, but in a caring way. In a way where their struggle is partially yours as well. Most of the bad people are instead hurt people, and no different than someone with a broken arm, we should help them heal.

Connection When You Least Expect It

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There I was, at the annual New Years Party I have been desperately waiting for all year.  As soon as I stepped inside the mansion-like house, a feeling took me over. With the music blasting and lights flashing, a sense of fun mania took me over. I was going to have a great night.  

With dozens of people from all around the area, I was astonished by how many of them I had never met and would probably never meet again.  With everyone in such a good mood, it was impossible to not feel the same way. Whether people were playing drinking games, busting a move on the dance floor, or lounging on the couch talking about god knows what, it seemed there was something to do for everyone.

The party was sensational, but as usual, it was only short-term.  A feeling that seems to never fully go away began to resurface. I have grown accustomed to this feeling, hence why it only took my subconscious seconds to know what to do next.  Like a snake slithering away silently, I withdrew from the scene and stepped outside as everyone continued to have the time of their lives.

As I stood there, with the cold winter breeze chilling my skin, a feeling of peace fell over me.  I knew that I would just need ten minutes of this bliss before the night would be mine once again.  As I stood in the cold winter night, I noticed a man around my age sitting with his legs hanging from the edge of the porch.  As he looked down at his feet, which he swayed back and forth much as a child does on a swing, I recognized our similar situations.

I then proceeded to sit next to him.  At first, we both said nothing. Listening to the distant noises of the party just one door away and looking over the glass-like lake, the need for words was not yet present.  

After a few minutes, I began our conversation with a simple hello.  As we talked, there was no secret as to why we had ventured off to such an isolated spot.  We spoke of depression, anxiety, and most of all, we spoke of suicide. There was no judgment and there was no stigma.  We simply spoke our thoughts, and nothing was there to stop us.

The loveliest part of this conversation was that both of us were isolated, as we desired to be, but we were also not alone.  It is rare when we simultaneously experience both solitude and the comfort of another person. We stayed in this unusual sense of bliss for what seemed like hours.  

Eventually, some of the partiers ventured outside to find their lost friend.  As they found us sitting on the porch, I watched a look of confusion fall over their faces.  If they were not questioning why their friend was sitting out in the cold, they certainly must have been questioning why he was doing so with a stranger.  I then watched as my newfound friend bounded up from the porch with light in his eyes. I don’t believe it was entirely fake, yet I do believe his joy was a bit exaggerated in order to silence their questioning thoughts.  

As they jumped away, back into the party, I was alone once again.  Surprisingly, I felt better. I felt fuller. Normally it took a bit longer to get back to this level of happiness, but for some reason, my tank seemed to be refilled.  Therefore, my next decision was simple, it was time to slither back into the exotic New Years’ atmosphere.  

It was not until the next morning that I began to hash out the night.  Who was that I sat next to? And did we really tell each other our deepest, darkest secrets?  The answer is that I will never know who that person is, and I quite frankly don’t need to. I don’t need to know when he was born, or where he grew up, or even his name.  He is someone I bonded with. Someone I formed a true connection with, and it only took five minutes.  

We bonded because we were vulnerable.  Sitting outside in the middle of the night, talking about the things much of society would push back, we let ourselves be fully seen.  We spoke openly and allowed our vulnerable selves to be present. Now do not mistake my words, I am not saying that is the only way to form a connection.  There are a number of ways to create great connections and friendships. I simply state an example of a healthy one. One that is rarely done, especially with a stranger.  Especially with someone you know so little about.   

The thing is, I knew enough about him before we even spoke our first words.  I saw that empty look, that empty feeling that I, and many others, have lived with for years.  And knowing we had that much in common was enough for me to show my vulnerable self and then hope he would do the same.  And thankful he did.

Connection, real connection, is a huge component of what the human mind requires.  We need someone to rationalize our thoughts with. We need someone to celebrate with.  And most importantly, we need someone to be alone with. To find human connection we simply need to be courageous.  We need to make the first step with our hearts out and our hands held high. To show our vulnerable selves even when there is no guarantee it will work out.  

Maybe not at your next New Years’ party, but somewhere, you should connect with someone.  You should form a bond because let me tell you, there is no better feeling than when you show your demons and all you get in return is a genuine smile.

Why is Death Sad?

Death. The word alone can shoot shivers down my spine.  Many of us fear it to the point of denial. Maybe not conscious denial, for we all know we will die one day, but instead subtle, subconscious denial. It would appear many of us shape our lives and culture in an attempt to feel blissful ignorance from this depressing thought.

But my question is why?  Why is death such a sad thing?  Why is nobody challenging the connotation of death? And when one does, they are instantly shut down?  

Death is the absence of life… the lack of life.  And for there to be life, death is inevitable.  The very moment life is created, so is its inevitable ending. To start something, it will always end.  

As we live we deny this reality.  We have created this bubble of mental protection from the idea that we will all be fully dead one day.  Once, when we are buried six feet under, and again when we are completely forgotten from everything still alive.  Eventually, everyone will die and nobody will begin to live in the first place. The very idea of bringing life into this world is seemingly pointless because that means there shall be something that dies.  By adding life to this species, you are delaying its inevitable death.

So are we aware of this?  Is humanity aware of the fact that death is the inevitable ending for our entire species?  I don’t think so, simply because we see death as a sad thing.

Something that is sad is usually unwanted and/or not required.  When we see things as sad we do not think that they necessarily had to happen. Google defines sorrow as a feeling of deep distress caused by loss, disappointment, or other misfortune suffered by oneself or others.  I would like to focus on the word loss. This definition states how you must lose something to be sad, yet do we have anything to begin with?  

As said earlier, life is the delay of death.  Life allows death to be possible. So how are they not interchangeable?  For life to exist there must be death, and for death to exist there must be life.  Yet we see life as a miracle and death as a misfortune. There appears to be a disconnect from these current truths, which I believe is simply due to us not connecting the dots.

This leads me to the question, why do we not?  Why of all the concepts humanity has learned and achieved, we left out the very one that is debatably the most important?  The one that has shaped parts of society for thousands of years.

Easy, how could we?  How would society have grown to such heights if we understood everything we are doing will eventually be pointless?  We eventually will have no society, no species existing, no buildings left to build, and no modernization left to achieve. Yet, the present world pushes on tirelessly.

These “achievements” seem pointless because they must be.  The creation of anything is only possible if the destruction of that same thing will inevitably balance it out. Conservation of energy, conservation of mass, conservation of everything will see to that.

Death, the inevitable ending, how depressing, yet how enlightening as well.  It does not have to be sad and it should not be. Yes, death is only possible with life, but life is beautiful so let us accept the ending of our stories as much as we accept the beginning.  Start living and growing the right way. A way that brings the most people together and the way that makes us the most understanding.

At the end of a great movie, we don’t cry that it has ended. Maybe we cry throughout the movie, or during one of its final scenes, but never because the lights have turned back on and it’s time to go home. No, we wish it was longer, and then talk about our favorite parts. We share all the greatest memories that we have and then go to bed.  The day ends, and we move on.

We do not forget the movie, we live with it.  We accept it and every part of it. And most importantly, we do not hold back from watching another one.  We instead readily jump on the next chance to watch another one. We do this because it is not about the end, it is about the process.  It is about the entire hour and a half we sit there living in the moment, happily eating our popcorn. Yes, the ending happens, but there is much more to the story.  We thank ourselves for knowing this movie and all its great moments and then continue our day.

Life allows death.  This is true, and we should know it.  We should know what will happen when we hold our children for the first time.  We should know what they will experience when they hold us for the last time. And we should know that one day will be our last.  One day we will not make it to the next, and that’s okay.

Once we accept death, we can also accept life.  We will not have to drink our sorrows away on the other side of town.  We will not have to push away the ones closest to us. And we will not follow a belief system with no scientific logic and treat it as a fact just so that we can feel purposeful again.  We will hold everyone around us and smile.

Yes, those people you hold will leave you, and yes you will leave those people, but every great movie is not about the ending it’s about the process.

The Little Things

I guess sometimes life is about the little things.  The moments when you help a friend or make a new one.  The times you talk all night because the person on the other line can’t imagine being alone.  Or when you give a friend a ride home so that they can finally crawl out of their shell and let out their demons.

These actions require both emotional stability and empathy.  In these moments you need to prioritize another human over yourself.  You need to walk into their shoes and feel around. Listen to what they say and touch what they feel.  After some time you will hear and feel clearly through their perspective. You will be a part of them, and in many ways, you will be them.

It is then when you feel the pain they feel, you must also feel the happiness they feel.  It is buried very deep within them, but nonetheless, it is there, just hiding. Their hope, their peace, and most all, their purpose, are all hiding in the back of their minds.  Hiding from the light and being absorbed by the darkness.

When uncovering this light you cannot miss a beat or break a sweat.  You cannot seem weakened or discouraged. You must present their happiness as an equal and allow this person to watch as you hold their happiness with confidence and hope.  You would show this person the light that they believed was nonexistent and offer it to them. Eventually, they will hopefully follow your steps and gratefully take it from you. For those moments, and hopefully many more, this person will be able to hold onto the happiness that they thought they lost. 

As you watch this individual have their moment of clarity, the hardest part follows.  You must take off their shoes, prioritize yourself again and resume how you once were.  Unchanged and stable. This process is difficult but not impossible. And when looking, as yourself, at the happiness your friend now holds, it makes it all worth it.  Because at that moment you see more than they do. You see past this issue and look at the greater picture. You see hope. Hope that the world will grow. Hope that the world has a chance.  Hope that you, yourself, can help heal it.  

These moments can happen within minutes and give a lifelong memory.  I have experienced this in many types of relationships. The one commonality I have found with these experiences is what it creates after.  A bond is formed that is pure and true. One that I like to think of as simply a true friend.

I have seen so many people believe that they are the center of the universe and that they must prioritize themselves before anyone else.  In a way they are not wrong, it’s your body, and who else is going to keep track of it if not you? Yet in such a globally connected world it would be nice if we were connected by more than just our cell phones and Snapchat streaks. 

What I describe in the previous paragraphs is the ultimate connection.  The connection between two individuals that for a split second, are closer to being one than two.  As a human race I believe we should strive to have as many of these connections as possible. If we become connected, the world would be a much more understanding place.  When one understands their neighbor, they are more likely to bring cookies, rather than complaints. When one understands their rival’s motives, they are more likely to find an agreement, rather than an argument.  When one understands the pain billions suffer every day, the more likely they are to donate millions to those very people. 

My intended takeaway from this post is to please make a connection.  A real connection. One that involves you to not be you. One that makes you them, and if you do this enough you will eventually come to realize that they are the same as you, and always will be. 

“We are more alike, my friends, than we are unalike.” – Maya Angelou

What is Depression?


We live in a world where we don’t know our future, yet we hope it will be a good one. Isn’t that nice? We have hope for better days and this hope maintains our way of life. If I knew I was bound to be homeless by the age of forty, would I bother to continue my academic advancement? If I knew I would end up marrying someone I didn’t love, would I bother to continue pursuing a romantic partner? And if I knew my child would die before their eighth birthday, would I bother to have them in the first place? I don’t believe I would. 

The nice part is that I don’t know how things will end up for me. Because of this, I do plan on graduating college, I do plan on marrying someone I love, and I do plan on having children (well… I might). Hope is the motivation to push through the rough times so that you can once again reach the great times. It is the feeling that allows us to be optimistic about the future, which gives us the courage to try to find and maintain happiness. I feel that this hope is what pushes me, and everyone, every day to feel we can succeed and have a great life.

Yet, some people do not have hope. Some people cannot feel hope like the rest of the world does. They feel trapped when they are outside. They feel alone in a crowd of people. They feel empty when they do the things that make them happiest. These people are in danger every day yet look safe as can be. 

Many of these individuals have depression. Depression is not just sadness like many people think. It is a deep-rooted feeling of emptiness that consumes all other emotions and replaces them with a feeling of death. 

Most of the time when people are sad they know that they are sad and hate how they feel. And a lot of the time they just want it to end so they can move on. This is not how depression typically works. 

Depression is a feeling that appears to never end. It creates the illusion that this deep-rooted sadness one feels will never stop because they believe it is who they are rather than what it is happening to them. Their life becomes sadness, rather than the sadness infecting their life. True darkness is not when a room is without light, but instead when that room has no light ever coming back. When the Sun will never rise. When the light switch will never be flipped. When one’s eyes will never open again. 

Depression is a disease that kills. It kills how the person thinks, feels, acts, and whatever else that lets them feel human. Eventually, the idea of doing anything seems too painful, too time-consuming. Going to work, showering, eating, and simply getting out of bed seems like too much work in such a dark world. In a world without hope what is there to push us, to better ourselves? What is there to make us be how every human should be? There isn’t, there wouldn’t. Society would not function because nobody would function.

Depression is a very real and dangerous disease. It is one that should not be taken lightly, and it is one that should be understood. We should try to understand what our neighbors, our co-workers, and maybe even our loved ones go through every day. I am not saying they all have depression, but the stigma for this disease is enough for millions to go untreated every year. Millions of people suffer through this darkness alone every year, and they will continue to if we don’t talk about it. So please do. Please show these unlucky individuals how to have hope once again. Show them the light that they could not find. Open the blinds, flip the light switch, and let them open their eyes to the beautiful world around them.