Every February I get a little nervous about work. For the past five years or so at the University of Minnesota, I’ve written a recurring Black History Month feature we call “Where It Starts.” In the series, I interview a mix of Black students/alums/faculty about one or more of a few themes: 1) Overcoming an obstacle 2) Finding your community and 3) Finding or fulfilling your purpose. And really, there’s not much more to the core of any story. In essence, we’re just asking people how you became you.
But every year I’m a little scared to do these stories. How do I talk to a person about (in part) their experiences as a Black person, when I’m a white kid from South Dakota, one of the least racially diverse states in the nation (especially relative to its Black population)? More than this, how do I talk to them about their racial identity and how their experiences of being Black have directly shaped who they are, when my own racial identity was so fraught with absolutely zero challenges because of my color that I have no compelling story of my own to tell (around my racial identity)?
I’ve talked here before about how writing became the perfect pretext for me to come out of my socially awkward and anxiety ridden shell and say hello to the world and the people in it. Through this, I’ve done stories on everything from hops research to medical device innovations. But the Where It Starts series has become my favorite (despite my trepidation) because, while it can be scary to talk to people about issues they’ve experienced that you don’t (and can’t) fully understand, it’s always inspiring to me to see what these kids (the students, at least) have accomplished, and how driven and passionate they are in the face of adversity and in their desires to make the world a better place.
One thing I think the stories make abundantly clear is that these are not “DEI hires.” Which is why I guess I’m posting about this, because I think we’re seeing just the start of new blanket effort at whitewashing complex and very real issues of systemic racism out of the conversation through a new national policy of “Just not talking about it. We are just not going to talk about it (or worse, punish people for talking about it).”
Would these stories qualify broadly as being driven by efforts at diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI)? To me, we’re just acknowledging that we may have overlooked some stories in our typical coverage, and that the lenses through which we view what constitutes a compelling story may not be fully clear. And also because it’s Black History Month, a time to reflect and acknowledge the often overlooked people who’ve played and continue to play an instrumental and indelible role in American history and America.
Just read any of these stories yourself, and then tell me what’s wrong with them, from a joyful young woman who’s pursuing nursing because of her mother’s negative experiences in healthcare, to a young woman whose great-great aunt (who’s turning 100 in March) grew up in South Carolina during segregation.
It helps my anxiety around these stories that I don’t craft them into a narrative solely controlled by me as author. They are “in their own words” and reflect what was said in our conversations, but I think they read much more compellingly than a standard Q&A.
And so the answer to the question and my own anxieties around “how do I talk to a person about their experiences as a Black person” is that I ask questions, and then I listen. That’s it. Ask questions, listen. Which seems to me like a good way forward.
Leave a comment