Author: Allyson Ryder

Allyson Ryder addresses social justice issues in a variety of personal and professional capacities across New Hampshire. She can be reached at almryder@outlook.com.

Fruits of our labor

The final months of summer gardening are always met with mixed emotions. This is often when the plants we have worked so hard to grow come to fruition and are ready for harvest. It is also the time when the impacts of bugs, drought and animals are felt more acutely, and the mature plants require more care to keep them producing the glorious vegetables during this harvest season.

There is so much to learn about life through gardening as it teaches you that the work is never done, growth requires care and attention, and to produce results you have to put in the time. All too often, when embarking on anti-racism efforts, fellow white people (myself included) often want to see the fruit without the labor. There are many times where we say, “please just tell me what to do” without having the context or the history for why this particular action is needed. Without this foundational understanding, it can be difficult to commit to the work in meaningful and long-term ways.

The scope and importance of becoming more aware of whiteness takes time to dig into the depths of our subconscious, to unearth long-held beliefs and thought patterns that many argue are imprinted into our DNA over generations. It takes quiet reflection, sitting the discomfort of acknowledging our own dirt, picking away at our bugs, having conversations with people to help us clear the weeds, and fertilizing our soil with knowledge. Due to our social conditioning, the gardens of white people, in particular, need the investment of time, curiosity and labor to understand what lies beneath.

The beautiful upside to this work is knowing that it will produce the results we want. There are literally hundreds of years of learning to unlearn but we are so lucky to have books by James Baldwin, Audre Lorde, bell hooks, Maya Angelou, and countless other Black authors to read, social media accounts to follow and films to watch. In the moment, it may feel overwhelming and hard to understand where it will lead us, but we have to trust the process and our own labor in the work.

Gardening is not an easy process. The path to success is not clear or linear, and there are variables that will constantly pop up, and work to deter us from seeing the work through until maturity. The same is absolutely true to on the path to becoming anti-racist. There are going to be moments of appreciation, gratitude, frustration, sadness, and fear. Despite all of this, those who take on the work know one thing to be true: In the end, it will be worth it.

The English language

 “It is America! You should be speaking English!” “Is anybody here illegal?!” “It’s America speak English!”

Those words rang out in a now viral video filmed by a woman in downtown Nashua as she began harassing men who were installing hardscapes. This tirade was unprovoked except for the fact that she happened to overhear the white foreman speaking to his employees in a language that they felt most comfortable conversing in — Spanish.

For most of my life, half of my family did not speak English; a fact most don’t know about me as my French Canadian roots disappeared when my mother married a man with the last name Ryder. Between my father not speaking French and our desire to simply become “White Americans,” my brother and I never learned the language.

My mother grew up in Nashua and was surrounded by her big French-Canadian family where the words that flowed from their mouths were never taught in schools. Her family found its way there thanks to the factories with pensions and unions to protect their jobs. In just two generations, our family went from having not even an eighth-grade education to having post-graduate degrees.

I remember spending my summers jumping in my pepere’s pool as my grandparents and mom spoke to one another in a language I did not understand. When I would hear them speaking that way, I would think to myself, and sometimes say aloud to them, “Speak English!”  

I say all this to remind myself and others that many of us started here with different experiences, languages, and intentions. I know the mindset of “It’s America — speak English” is how we have all been conditioned.

Despite the fact that speaking a language other than English is relatively harmless, there is real damage for those who do not abide by those rules. The violent words and actions hurled at the Latinx employees from the white woman is a perfect example of how white privilege permeates even the most innocent of spaces.

Fortunately, the public outcry from the video was enough to silence her, but I know that those workers will not soon forget what happened or how they were treated. We all have to work twice as hard to undo the harm done out of fear and hate. 

I wish I could go back and listen to my grandparents speak, to hear their voices and laughter at the words I did not understand, and know that they were only trying to express themselves in the way that felt most natural to them. Unfortunately, that time has long passed and with it a key part of our cultural identity — all in the name of ignorance. 

My racist self

I am a racist. It took me 35 years to first say the words and the last two examining the complexity of its meaning. I say it now not because it’s easy but because it serves as a critical reminder of the internal work needed to play a role in dismantling white dominance.   

See, even above, I swapped out “white supremacy” for “white dominance” because the latter is less threatening, and it doesn’t immediately cause people to shut down. In doing so, I made the choice to center white emotions over the reality of what the black community feels. I’m complicit.

For all the learning and reflection I’ve engaged in, I still ask myself, “What good is knowledge if I do not apply it?” I know The Hippo calls this section “Granite Views,” yet all of us writers for it are white.  What message is that sending about whose viewpoints matter or what voices should be raised up in our state? Yet have I ever used my position to challenge it? I’m complicit. 

Positioning myself as the heroic white person — as not one of “those people” — separates me from the very identity that I need to be most connected to. As a queer, white woman, I have taken my pass to not be as oppressed, coupled with still feeling oppressed, as my excuse why I don’t intervene more. I’m complicit. 

There are many aspects to the system of anti-black racism that remain outside of my lens. However, there is no excuse to remain uneducated about the dynamics and history of racism in America. We have books, films, TEDTalks, articles and social media accounts to follow where countless experiences are shared. But what good is awareness if I’m not willing to take inventory of my own culture and identity, see how it shapes these experiences, and take action to address it? I’m complicit.

What we see on the news is often how we define racism in this country but it runs so much deeper than that. Being complicit is one of the most prevalent ways white people participate in this system and the impact is palpable. Fortunately, it’s fully within one’s own control to acknowledge and address it.   

If you want to get involved, please educate yourself, be willing to truly listen without getting defensive, and find ways to support the solutions being shared by the black community. White allyship is needed but it requires significant self-reflection and realizing the work should not be motivated by simply wanting to be “not racist.”

“It is certain, in any case, that ignorance, allied with power, is the most ferocious enemy justice can have.”— James Baldwin

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