Do Better

by Rachel Ricketts

  Who are the biggest names in health and wellness right now? Why? What race/ethnicity/gender identity/sexual orientation/ability are they? What are the cultural roots of the practices they are sharing? Do they acknowledge those roots?

  Pop over to the Instagram or web page of your favorite wellness brands and leaders. What are they doing to promote racial justice and anti-oppression? Did they make any commitments to address anti-Blackness following the Black liberation uprisings in 2020 or otherwise? If so, have those come to fruition in a transparent way? How can you hold them accountable?

  What race/ethnicity/gender identity/sexual orientation/ability are your spiritual, health, and/or wellness teachers? Do you learn from teachers, gurus, or mentors from marginalized races or other identities? Why or why not? Do any of your teachers originate from the cultures your practice is from? If so, how? If not, why?

  What are three ways you can tap into and learn about your own ancestral spiritual wisdom?

  Canceling Cultural Appropriation

  We touched on the harm caused by cultural appropriation in the spiritual wellness context, though it’s important to note that appropriation occurs in all kinds of ways, so it is vital to face your shadows, examine your behaviors, and challenge yourself so you can best discern if and when you are being appropriative. Below are some considerations to help you determine if, when, and how you are appropriating:

  Am I a member of a dominant group that does and/or has oppressed the community from which the practice, offering, clothing, food, music, etc. (the “Action”) originates?

  What is the history of my race/ethnicity with the community that the Action originates from? Was harm inflicted? If so, how?

  Am I acknowledging and crediting the community that the Action originates from? If so, how? If not, why? And how will I change that?

  Am I honoring the origin of the Action? If so, how? If not, why? And how will I ensure to do so?

  Is the Action in alignment with the roots and history of the Action? If so, how? If not, why? And how can I do so?

  Am I giving back to the communities of the culture from which the Action originated (financially and otherwise)? If so, how? If not, why? And how will I change that?

  Are Black and Indigenous folx being involved and centered? Are the communities from which the Action originated leading the Action? If so, how? If not, why? And how can that be rectified?

  Who is making money off the Action (if anyone)? Are those earning the most from the Action also from the Action’s origin community? If so, how? If not, why? And how can that be rectified?

  PART TWO

  RING THE ALARM

  Nothing will work unless you do.

  —MAYA ANGELOU

  ELEVEN

  Impact over Intention

  My experiences, my hum[x]nity and my life will never be negotiated on the altar of evil cloaked as inane intellectualism.

  —ENWONGO C. CLEOPAS

  It was a gray October day just a few weeks after I had left my life and livelihood as a corporate attorney behind. It wasn’t raining, but the air was moist, as it often is given Vancouver’s lengthy coastal shore. I was rushing. Off to some meeting or other in a hurried state, and I opted to take a car share in one of those cute and compact Smart cars. I held the membership card to the vehicle dash, waited for the car doors to unlock, and away I went.

  Less than ten minutes into my drive I found myself at a red light on Main Street. I looked into my rearview mirror and I saw an SUV barreling down the road directly behind me. I could tell it was going fast. Too fast. It wasn’t going to stop before it reached me. With only seconds to spare I thought about swerving my little hunk of metal into the lane on my left to avoid a collision, but there wasn’t time. I sat still, powerless, and braced for impact. There was a single moment of silence before my world turned into a two-car orchestra of metal on metal and the sound of my own screams. When the screeching finally ceased, I looked over to the sidewalk and saw people stopped and staring. A man had come out of his shop to locate the source of all the noise. It was, at least in part, me.

  I moved the compact car to the side of the road as the man who had hit me did the same. Then, I sat in shock. What just happened? Why did it happen? Did I do something wrong?

  One of the women on the sidewalk came to my car door. She asked if I was okay and, as I was apt to do, I responded “yes” before checking in with the truth of my reply. She gave me her information to use as a witness statement before she went on her way to resume her run. The driver of the other vehicle, a middle-aged white man whom I’ll call Sir Speedy, came out of his car and immediately apologized.

  “I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” he said. He could tell that I was not.

  Sir Speedy saw my tears as I emerged from the driver’s seat and gave me a hug, which I found oddly comforting given he was a random white man who’d just caused me bodily harm. He said he had been reaching for something in his glove compartment and wasn’t paying attention. No shit, I thought. I leaned back, still in shock. We exchanged information, as you do in these kinds of situations, and Sir Speedy went on his way.

  Though I was grateful to have walked away from an accident that could have been much worse, I was scared and shaken up. My mind immediately ran into overdrive, as it so often does.

  Let’s not make a mountain out of a mole hill, Rachel—my inner critic, always quick to take up the chance for ridicule.

  I was free from scratches and bruises. There was no blood or bones evidently out of place. Still, inside I was anything but okay. I had just absorbed the inertia of nearly nine thousand combined pounds of moving metal colliding. I was on the side of the road. Alone. And all I could do was cry. I called my now-husband, Tyler, to tell him what happened. As he insisted on leaving work to pick me up and take me to the hospital, I couldn’t help but feel silly. As if this whole thing were being blown out of proportion.

  “It’s not a big deal!” I said. “I’m fine.” I had lied to myself so many times by then I was beginning to believe it myself.

  “I’m on my way,” he exclaimed as he hung up the phone to rush to my aid.

  Within half an hour I was at emergency. The doctor was polite while informing me that I had sustained whiplash to my neck and shoulders, but you could tell he didn’t have much time for minor injuries (plus, I’m Black, so my pain doesn’t matter). Once again, I felt foolish. Why was I wasting this medical professional’s time to confirm what I already knew? I was FINE. At least on the outside.

  As the months and years went on, my injuries turned into chronic pain, which took a serious toll on my mental, emotional, spiritual, and physical well-being. This car accident had, and continues to have, major ramifications for my life and livelihood. Still, I was and remain grateful because the man who drove into me immediately owned his mistake. Sir Speedy could have come out of his car with an array of accusations:

  “What the hell were you doing?”

  “Why didn’t you get out of the way?!”

  “This wasn’t my fault!”

  It all happened so fast that had he blamed me in some way, I would have likely felt I had indeed done something wrong. But I hadn’t.

  Do I believe Sir Speedy intended to run into me with his car? Absolutely not. But it doesn’t matter. Because he did, and I was harmed as a result. Instead of proclaiming that he hadn’t meant to hit me and driving away, he stopped on the side of the road and dealt with the consequence of his actions. Hell, I even got a hug. Does he deserve a medal for owning up to his harms and being a half-decent humxn? Surely not. I doubt any of us would intentionally run into another person (though we’ve witnessed several white men at Black Lives Matter rallies do just that). But if and when we do, we own our actions and seek to remedy whatever harm we’ve caused. Right?

  Well, when it comes to racial justice, we need to behave precisely this same way. We need to own our IMPACT over our INTENTION. Yet, this is very rarely the response received when an oppressed being graci
ously explains that harm has been committed against them. Rarely are we met with hugs, acknowledgments, and apologies when asking others for accountability, but rather entitlement, defensiveness, and violence.

  F.Y.I. (FUCK YOUR INTENTIONS)*

  Let’s get something all the way clear, right away. When it comes to racial justice, your intentions are more or less irrelevant. Whether you did or did not mean to exclude a disabled person, create an unsafe space for Black women+, or make a transphobic joke doesn’t matter a whole hell of a lot. What matters most is the impact that action has on the marginalized person(s) in question. I have personally and professionally endured one too many a white woman+ who dug their heels all the way into the idea that the harm they caused was unintentional. What they’re really saying is “I care more about how I am perceived and feeling as though I am a good person than I do about the actual harm I’ve caused another, particularly someone with less power and privilege than I have, or how or why I’ve caused that harm.” The accusation of causing harm is treated as worse than the actual harm that was inflicted, and that is entirely unacceptable. You may not intend to cause harm. In fact, you may authentically intend to avoid harm, but in the end your intention doesn’t really mean shit. Whether you intended to cause harm or not is truly not the point. The point is that you did. Periodt.

  Am I saying that having good intentions executed poorly is the same as the folx who have a true intention of causing harm to oppressed folx? Of course not. What I am saying is that we shouldn’t be so damn focused on intention either way. It is possible for well-intentioned folx to cause the same, if not more, harm than those with ill intent. The majority of harms inflicted against me in my life have been from those in my innermost circle. Our priority should always rest with those who are enduring the harms, the specifics of the harms in question, and how those harms can be rectified, as opposed to the inner mental workings of the perpetrator, which does nothing for the person who has been harmed whilst invalidating their experience and negating a remedy. This line of reasoning, or lack thereof, perpetuates the white supremacist status quo by focusing on the perpetrator, emphasizing ingrained entitlement, and further oppressing the person who was harmed by silencing, rejecting, and/or ignoring. Prioritizing intention over impact is a tricky and deviant little mindfuck that allows oppressors to avoid taking ownership and essentially shuts down an opportunity for accountability, growth, and connection, all of which are precipitated by an ability to better tolerate your discomfort and own your shit.

  This is also why “not knowing” about white supremacy or how to engage with it is not an excuse. The extent to which you are able to operate in your day-to-day without any clue of the atrocities inflicted upon the oppressed is the extent to which your privilege is preventing you from observing the realities of the world. Black and Indigenous women+ are forced to swim through swamps of murky aggressions, never mind blatant white supremacist violence, all day every day. Does it matter that the vast majority of folx who perpetuate white supremacy do not intend to cause myself and others harm? Not much. Am I still forced to spend an exorbitant amount of time, money, emotional labor, and energy healing my heart from all the pain incessantly inflicted upon me by “well-intentioned white folx”? I sure as heck do. And it’s all the worse for Black trans women.

  Black folx have been yelling from the rooftops about racial justice century after century, and still here we are, hundreds of years later, and so many of y’all still don’t get it. Whatever the intentions of your words, actions, inactions, thoughts, behaviors, perspectives, opinions, all are secondary to the actual IMPACT they have on Black bodies, Black joy, Black lives, and Black liberation.

  Irrespective of whether your objective is to perpetuate white supremacy, anti-Blackness, or anti-Indigeneity, in the absence of proactive, daily work to combat your racism, prejudice, or internalized oppression, you are. This is precisely why doing your deep inner work is necessary and urgent.

  In the face of causing harm I say F.Y.I., dear ones. Fuck. Your. Intentions. And, as a member of my online community once astutely added: Feel. Your. Impact. The next time you’re called out or in, take a breath. Listen to what’s being said. Believe them. Challenge your shadow’s tempting whispers to defend, deny, and object. Apologize. Take ownership and examine why you did what you did or said what you did (or why you failed to). And understand that your intention is irrelevant. Actions matter.

  MONITORING IMPACT OVER INTENTION

  Prioritizing impact over intention and feeling your impact are key. The next time someone holds you accountable, try practicing the following to help you through:

  1) Take a breath—Our breath activates our parasympathetic nervous system, which helps to calm the body down, and long, deep breaths have proven particularly helpful in quelling anxiety, fear, and other emotions that arise when we’re feeling targeted.

  2) Receive—Attend to what is being said. You may not need to respond for a while, so actively receive what’s being shared. Ask thoughtful, respectful questions only if you need more clarity, but do not feel entitled to answers. Google is also your friend if you have access.

  3) Believe—Have generous assumptions of what is being shared with you and the person sharing it. Lean into the totality of your wrongdoing, not because it proves you’re a bad person (it doesn’t), but because it is an opportunity to learn, grow, and ultimately do better.

  4) Apologize—Verbally and through changed behavior (more on this in the next chapter).

  5) Reflect—Use this as an opportunity to learn, grow, and minimize harm moving forward. Yes, you will still cause harm. Keep going and growing.

  If you are committed to ending oppression in all forms, you will fuck up. You will cause harm. You will have a negative impact despite intentions to the contrary and you will have to atone for that. This is not an if; it is a when and a how. The goal here is not, nor should it ever be, perfection, which is a concept created by and for perpetuating white supremacy. Prioritizing impact creates a heart-centered gauge for the work you are seeking to do in the world and if, when, and how it is actually dismantling oppression. It is an opportunity to check in with yourself and others, especially those most oppressed and/or impacted by your actions, acknowledge how and where you can improve your efforts and lean into your spiritually aligned tools for doing better.

  Spiritual Soulcare Offering/Call to Action

  Owning My Impact

  Using the table provided, write out three actions or inactions you have taken that caused a (or another) queer and trans Black or Indigenous woman+ harm. For example, an action may be expecting us to undertake some form of work for you without remuneration (emotional or otherwise), or an inaction may be staying silent instead of speaking up when racist remarks were made against us in your presence. These can be regarding a person you know personally, professionally, or otherwise. For example, it may be a total stranger, like a store manager, or someone you know of but have never met, like Janet Mock. As always, you can focus this exercise on another BI&PoC or other marginalized folx as well or in lieu of queer and trans Black or Indigenous women+ if necessary.

  Action or Inaction against a Black or Indigenous woman+.

  What was my intention for that action or inaction?

  What do I believe or know to be the actual impact of that action or inaction on the Black or Indigenous woman+ in question?

  What, if anything, needs to be done to remedy my harm?

  What have I learned?

  1.

  1.

  1.

  1.

  1.

  2.

  2.

  2.

  2.

  2.

  3.

  3.

  3.

  3.

  3.

  Do your best to recall the intention you had at the time (or still possess), and then critically reflect on your actual impact, which may have become clear to you at the time and/or may be something you have a better understan
ding of now in hindsight. Do your best to recall instances where your intentions and your impact did not align—noting where they did can be helpful, but the purpose here is to note where they did not and reflect on how to do better moving forward.

  Forgiveness Reflection

  When you finish, take a moment to digest the harm you’ve experienced and/or caused, own your impact, and acknowledge what you’ve learned. Then, if it feels aligned, connect to your heart space and practice the following forgiveness mantra, as adapted from the meditation teacher and community organizer La Sarmiento:

  I create space for myself to be imperfect.

  I create space for myself to make mistakes.

  I create space for myself to be a learner, still learning life’s lessons.

  I forgive myself.

  And if I cannot forgive myself now, may I forgive myself sometime in the future.13

  Please Note: This exercise is likely to bring up some strong discomfort, do your best to simply be with what arises and do NOT rush out to contact those whom you have harmed. You still have more work to do, my love, keep reading and if, at the end of the book, you think reaching out prioritizes healing for the person you harmed, proceed to do so.

  TWELVE

  Magnifying “Microaggressions”

  I understood “microaggressions” to mean “little bullshit acts of racism.”

  —GABBY RIVERA

  It is impossible to talk about impact and intention without a discussion about “microaggressions”*, the common culprit most notably responsible for unintentional harms. A “microaggression” can be defined as “the everyday verbal, nonverbal, and environmental slights, snubs, or insults, whether intentional or unintentional, which communicate hostile, derogatory, or negative messages to target persons based solely upon their marginalized group membership.”1 As Columbia University psychology professor Dr. Derald Wing Sue states, “In many cases, these hidden messages may invalidate the group identity or experiential reality of target persons, demean them on a personal or group level, communicate they are lesser hum[x]n beings, suggest they do not belong with the majority group, threaten and intimidate, or relegate them to inferior status and treatment.”2 These behaviors can be inflicted upon a person or group marginalized for any reason and come in a wide range of shapes and sizes, a plethora of which I have experienced, from homophobia to misogynoir.