White Cousins
Dr. Ayana Elizabeth Johnson is a marine biologist and a field general in the climate crisis. She’s ten years younger than me. I remember learning to do her hair when she was little; I remember playing crazy card games when we were both grown; and I just finished her first, wonderful bestseller of essays by women, especially women of color, fighting for the planet.
Here is an excerpt from a recent Instagram post she made:
I am one of the white cousins. Literally. I received the group text from Ayana just ahead of the election. I was struggling with how to reach out to the other side of my family, with whom I’m already in regular contact; we’re pretty confident all four of my dad’s siblings are Trump supporters, as well as my three cousins. I did something — a letter which took me days to revise. I still don’t think I found the sweet spot between compassion and pandering, but I ran out of time and sent what I had. I intentionally dismissed reaching out to our shared family, despite Ayana’s explicit request; why would they listen to me?
I’m being asked to have difficult conversations, not put on a uniform and go to war. I’m being asked to turn my mind and my heart to my skinfolk to bring them around to something they should already know: that being Catholic or libertarian or rich or poor are none of them reasons to condone or excuse or be silent about how Black and brown people are treated in this country.
I can say, “Oh, I’m doing the work: I sent the letter, I’m talking to my ‘compassionate conservative’ dad, I’m writing and talking and sharing books and…” But I can absolutely do more. I can absolutely do better, and faster, and more often. My sweet, wonderful cousin is not responsible and should not carry the burden to remind me of the full extent of my capacity to make the world a safer and more just place for her and for all Black and brown people.
That’s my job, as a white cousin.