Creeping Left Bank Books

Look out! We'll getcha!

Last week we got a letter in the mail saying that our BlackLivesMatter yard signs were causing racial disharmony and that we'd lost a customer to Amazon. (I have more to say about how bassackwards that is, but for now, you can refer to this if you want.) (Mind, this is not the first person to claim that taking an anti-racist position is harmful. On Christmas Eve, a customer came in and spoke at our manager for upwards of ten minutes (on CHRISTMAS DAMN EVE) about how he didn't want to bring his children to the store anymore because he didn't feel that the message of BlackLivesMatter was appropriate for them. For his children. le sigh. But, there aren't that many people who have such terrible manners.)

One of the co-owners of the store decided to address the unsigned letter we received with a blog post that is thoughtful and personal and ends with a link to Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates, because yes.

The DailyKos wrote up an article and someone in the comments made a GRAPHIC thing!?!

KMOX did a piece also - which is kind of awesome, for real.

The post landed at HuffPost. ?!?!?

(So you know to avoid the comments, right? I mean, you could read the ones at The DailyKos, because they are kind of fantastic and the ones on the Facebook page are mostly alright, too, but, you know, be careful.)

The Post wrote that we sold out of BlackLivesMatter signs. We're also selling a ton of Ta-Nehisi Coates's new book. Which is freaking fantastic. Not that I've bought it yet. Or anything. *coughs*

What you won't see in these links or articles is that a different kind of conversation is happening in the store. The conversation about realizing how real it is that the default setting for white people is racist. As someone who works not to be, it is still startling when I am approached by white people who use coded language or arguments that are steeped in an unquestioned racism. It is so shocking, not because I am shocked that people are racist, but because the assumption is that as a white person I am actively engaged in my racism and approve of it.

Um. No.

It took having it pointed out for me to learn that as a person who grew up with white privilege in this country, I am inherently racist. It was a twitchy moment, because I'm special, so of course I'm not racist. *cough* Yep.

It was an awkward moment when I realized that there is nothing about not being racist that makes my words unracist. Nothing at all.

Not my lack of intent. Not my less-privileged-than-you upbringing. Not my feminism.

Whatever my beliefs, my privilege (something I may not choose, but must not deny) is built from a system of oppression and subjugation predicated on the belief that white skinned people are better. It is not the job of POC to educate me about racism. It is not the job of WOC to teach me to be an intersectional feminist. It is my job to do the work and to have the conversations.

Sometimes it is necessary to preach to the choir, a thing that can get dicey when you work at a place where people are fairly certain you always agree with them no matter what. The illusion of a cultural monolith is not limited to any political party. Oh no.

Another Left Bank conversation that is compelling is that one that tracks the progress of understanding. The one where we compare notes about when we articulated our many and varied problems with the privileged and obtuse notion of colorblindness. The one where none of us had to articulate or defend our use of #BlackLivesMatter specifically, along with #TransLivesMatter and #NativeLivesMatter and #AllBlackLivesMatter and #SayHerName - because it was apparent that the specificity was necessary, because every life does not matter in practice. The one where we all wonder what else we need to learn. The one where the books on our shelves speak clearly.

It creeps, this burden of responsibility. It creeps into conversation. It creeps into buying habits. It creeps into the search for acceptable pop culture. It creeps into relationships. It takes over.

We have muscles. We must use them. History weighs heavily. The work of carrying its burden should fall on all of us.