The world prepares its public mourning this week, having already begun its private reveries. Nelson Mandela has passed from this planet. Not so, his legacy. Not so, his memory. Even as I gaze at the falling snow outside my window this morning, Mandela is on my mind.
Why is it that so much of this world was blanketed by "white" cultures? There are more people of color than there are their white cousins...White people, as far as our history books are concerned, weren't even "the first people"...Perhaps it is as the Indian people of the America's stated--we are the people who come to a place and cover it like lice...or snow...
As the white storm outside blankets this New England landscape, I think of our own genocide, in Massachusetts. First, the Vikings--fiercest white men of all, in their dragon-hulled ships--arriving as warriors and looters--exploring for pillage and conquer--exploring and terrifying any who stood in their path. Later, the other Europeans, come to take whatever was available in the "New World"--from beaver and otter pelts to gold. (Indians made lousy slaves. They would refuse to give in--starving or sitting down in their chains and simply setting their souls free. So, other "goods" were taken.) Whatever could be loaded onto ships and sent back...whatever made a buck...or a reputation.
(Next,the Pilgrims and religious hordes arrived--carrying with them indentured servants and communicable disease. Surely, these groups were most like "lice"--sucking the first people dry; killing them off without even trying.)
However, after a while, they DID try. Soon, the wars began in earnest in this land of many cultures and colors; the white blanket suffocated the indigenous, often slaughtering the very friends who saved their immigrant lives. New England is a cornucopia of hurt and intolerance on so many levels...(Less obvious than its sister-South, we had a kind of Apartheid that Mandela would have raged against.)
I watch the snow. I shiver, remembering who I am behind my white skin and "privilege". What have I taken for granted? Where could I have facilitated change?
I remember history lessons--far fewer--which spoke of the great white heroes and hopes. I think of Quakers and Abolitionists and colonists who fought on the side of the original people. I think of women behind the scenes, who taught and nurtured and looked after the children of all cultures around them--whose stories were never recorded--only passed down through generations. I think of far-sighted men who did, on some level, become enlightened, if only for public moments. Men who tried to give all human beings a fighting chance on equal ground--even if, in their private lives, they were less open-hearted.
There have been good, decent, and even great "white folks". Not all are a scourge upon the land. Not all seek to conquer "the Other", or make less, people unlike themselves. Mandela would remind me of that--remind all of us of that. We have to start at the place of our own heart's center--at the place we find ourselves. We have to begin the enlightened action within our own heads, first, no matter who we are. I must hold on to that. I must embrace that first (perhaps greatest) lesson.
Embrace that which is best, inside ourselves. Seek what is best, in others. Fight to protect those without a voice of their own, and then fight to give them their voice. Heed that voice, once it begins to speak out. Reach out to your sisters and brothers and cousins and work to create something the world has yet to see. Embrace that which is different from yourself, even as Nature does, for in diversity, we find survival. Celebrate the brightest in all cultures. Share, unconditionally.
As the snow falls, it also melts. Even as it seeks to bury us, whitewashing the ugly, it carries a promise of living water in its frozen soul. It will cover, and smother and freeze, for a time, but it carries in its core the life-giving elements of other seasons. White is the reflection of all colors--and so, we must be part of The Whole.
We must confront who we are and fix what we find. We must also celebrate each season in its turning. Solstice is coming. Mandela is passing. New challenges await us all. There is no time for guilt--only forgiveness and compassion. Let us remember the great man by forgiving ourselves.
Why is it that so much of this world was blanketed by "white" cultures? There are more people of color than there are their white cousins...White people, as far as our history books are concerned, weren't even "the first people"...Perhaps it is as the Indian people of the America's stated--we are the people who come to a place and cover it like lice...or snow...
As the white storm outside blankets this New England landscape, I think of our own genocide, in Massachusetts. First, the Vikings--fiercest white men of all, in their dragon-hulled ships--arriving as warriors and looters--exploring for pillage and conquer--exploring and terrifying any who stood in their path. Later, the other Europeans, come to take whatever was available in the "New World"--from beaver and otter pelts to gold. (Indians made lousy slaves. They would refuse to give in--starving or sitting down in their chains and simply setting their souls free. So, other "goods" were taken.) Whatever could be loaded onto ships and sent back...whatever made a buck...or a reputation.
(Next,the Pilgrims and religious hordes arrived--carrying with them indentured servants and communicable disease. Surely, these groups were most like "lice"--sucking the first people dry; killing them off without even trying.)
However, after a while, they DID try. Soon, the wars began in earnest in this land of many cultures and colors; the white blanket suffocated the indigenous, often slaughtering the very friends who saved their immigrant lives. New England is a cornucopia of hurt and intolerance on so many levels...(Less obvious than its sister-South, we had a kind of Apartheid that Mandela would have raged against.)
I watch the snow. I shiver, remembering who I am behind my white skin and "privilege". What have I taken for granted? Where could I have facilitated change?
I remember history lessons--far fewer--which spoke of the great white heroes and hopes. I think of Quakers and Abolitionists and colonists who fought on the side of the original people. I think of women behind the scenes, who taught and nurtured and looked after the children of all cultures around them--whose stories were never recorded--only passed down through generations. I think of far-sighted men who did, on some level, become enlightened, if only for public moments. Men who tried to give all human beings a fighting chance on equal ground--even if, in their private lives, they were less open-hearted.
There have been good, decent, and even great "white folks". Not all are a scourge upon the land. Not all seek to conquer "the Other", or make less, people unlike themselves. Mandela would remind me of that--remind all of us of that. We have to start at the place of our own heart's center--at the place we find ourselves. We have to begin the enlightened action within our own heads, first, no matter who we are. I must hold on to that. I must embrace that first (perhaps greatest) lesson.
Embrace that which is best, inside ourselves. Seek what is best, in others. Fight to protect those without a voice of their own, and then fight to give them their voice. Heed that voice, once it begins to speak out. Reach out to your sisters and brothers and cousins and work to create something the world has yet to see. Embrace that which is different from yourself, even as Nature does, for in diversity, we find survival. Celebrate the brightest in all cultures. Share, unconditionally.
As the snow falls, it also melts. Even as it seeks to bury us, whitewashing the ugly, it carries a promise of living water in its frozen soul. It will cover, and smother and freeze, for a time, but it carries in its core the life-giving elements of other seasons. White is the reflection of all colors--and so, we must be part of The Whole.
We must confront who we are and fix what we find. We must also celebrate each season in its turning. Solstice is coming. Mandela is passing. New challenges await us all. There is no time for guilt--only forgiveness and compassion. Let us remember the great man by forgiving ourselves.
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