Grieving and Solidarity
It is powerful to be alive in this moment of reckoning. Hope and exhilaration are fuel for this uprising. And let us also remember that grief is a part of it. The generational accumulation of grief and rage.
Last week Tuesday and I launched an online workshop titled “What Should White People Do?” tonight’s focus is on “Learning how to Hold.” How to hold yourself, how to hold others, how to withstand rage.
When I think of archetypal masculine energy (independent of gender) I think of the capacity to anchor and to hold.
My friend Greg Jobin-Leeds offered advice on caring for the grieving during these times of uprising. And I thought it would be good to share it with you. Here are some practical ways to hold:
Four pieces of classic advice about caring for the grieving that seem to also be relevant to solidarity right now via Greg Jobin-Leeds on Instagram ⦿ @gregjobinleeds
Our job is to accompany, not to fix the pain. There is no way, as a friend or relative, I can (or am asked to) help lessen the pain that someone else is feeling. This is even more true with folks on the frontline. Rarely does anyone want their pain fixed, though they may want their wheelchair fixed, or shopping done, or financial help. Most important is for us just to be there, to acknowledge, to be a witness.
Don’t say, “I know how you feel.” Each loss is different, and this applies as well to folks on the frontline. Even if one has experienced oppression or disaster, we can’t know another’s experience, and claiming to just trivialize it.
Don’t say, “Please let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.” Offers of unspecific support can be overwhelming and puts the responsibility on the person suffering. Instead do the homework yourself, learn about systemic anti-Blackness and racism and look at what Black leadership is posting and follow their lead --especially the @mvmnt4blklives and make calls to get the police out of your school district, repost and amplify their voice.
Stick with the grieving person, long after the disaster hits. While Damon (my best friend) was in hospice 5 years ago, his broken-hearted sweetheart, Therese, with “sadness seeping from every pore,” wrote to family and friends: “…please don’t avoid us, ignore us, or feel uncomfortable with us… offer to include us, understand when we say ‘not yet’ and then offer again before too long… please be sure to mention his name, make reference to his competence, interests, and sense of humor. In the beginning it might take me awhile to recover my composure…
Please ask your children to stick with mine through the coming months… they already feel tremendous loss; they don’t need to feel friendless, too. If you or your children don’t know what to say to them, tell them that and offer a smile.