Editor: Savant Lamont (Tallahassee, FL)

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Valerie Richards is a recent Theatre Arts graduate born and raised in Houston, TX where she currently resides. She is very active in the Houston community and works with PURPHouston, an organization dedicated to community aid. She enjoys music, art, and anything to do with theatre, as she hopes to soon attend graduate school for acting.

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A Writers Non-Writing Story.

Author: Valerie Richards (Houston, TX)

 

I look at my life from a birds eye view. Putting pen to paper never came naturally to me. In 4th grade, when Mrs. Carpenter reached for her “magic cup” (which was really just an off- white, stained coffee mug with stickers covering it), I knew it was journal time. She would pick a random piece of paper containing a prompt for us to write about that day, and simultaneously all of my classmates would rush to their assigned seats…pencil in hand. Admittedly, I did not always share their excitement. I couldn’t stay focused long enough for writing, largely in part because Angela (the girl who sat next to me) smelled like eggs every day. I hated eggs. Nine-year-old me would much rather have played with the hot glue gun or Crayola markers, because writing was just not my cup of tea. Looking back, I recognize the ways in which my lack of attention to the importance of writing in elementary school eventually translated into a discomfort. I hated my thoughts, my brain…and well, everything about myself. It wasn’t until years later that I realized: I didn’t actually hate myself, I hated the lack of things I knew about myself. I didn’t have much material to think about outside of the small circle of knowledge I was exposed to by my parents and [limited] family members. And so, for as long as I can remember, I avoided anything outside of my circle. I was constantly seeking external stimulation to guide me through my life, never stopping to think about the ignorant tendencies I had in regards to taking care of myself…or for the issues outside of what effected me daily.

You see, I was born and raised on the outskirts of Houston. A suburbia, to be accurate. I attended a nearby Catholic Church every Sunday and Wednesday. My mother and father, who had both also been raised nearby, were really the only family I spent time with. Since birth, I was raised to believe that this is how life is supposed to be; that I’m supposed to finish school, go to confession when I sin, find a husband and a career, have kids, and settle down in Suburbia, TX. Turns out, when the habit of believing everything your parents say is completely true and right, the ignorant tendencies I mentioned earlier will naturally follow you. In fact, when my mother told me she was going to homeschool me throughout middle school, I didn’t make a peep. I wanted to stay in my comfort zone, so I kept my head down, suppressed my own judgements and beliefs, and followed suit for quite a long time…until I found myself in a desolate space; alone. It was just me, and me alone, which forced me to face the moral obligation of being my own person. 

I made the decision to attend public high school. When I gained the slightest bit of confidence in being uniquely me, I found myself surrounded by a concoction of people. People I had never seen before. People with different cultures, backgrounds, races, and beliefs. Those beautiful people became my friends, and I realized that what I had been doing my whole life…was completely wrong.

I began questioning everything, including myself and the institutions in which I had grown up in. As humans, isn’t it our moral obligation to educate ourselves about the injustices of the world? About different cultures, different people? And if so, why wasn’t I exposed to this type of education from a young age?

My mother and father were raised in identical fashion to the ways in which they raised me, so of course we share a plethora of similarities. The same attitude, level of patience, and behavior patters could be tied back to each of us. But…what I don’t have that my parents (and well, most white parents) have, is blissful ignorance. That blissful ignorance that their parents also had. The “sure, there’s some bad stuff in the world. It doesn’t effect me, though, as I was just raised this way” ignorance.

As a white person, it's easy to turn a blind eye and blame it on the way you were raised. You can chalk it up to lack of education or lack of exposure, but at what point do you start putting the blame on the people who are protected from a bubble of privilege? We often forget that racism is not an opinion. At some point, you must address the moral issue afoot and accept that the people who “were just raised that way” are actually hiding from the education they have ample access to…which just happens to be far more access than people in some Black communities are privy to.

Savant asked me, “If you weren’t afraid, what would you tell the world?”

I stared at pen and paper for days and thought through the words that would later appear on this page, containing metaphors and similes for the many impossible tasks I’ve been faced with. I believed that writing [itself] was my primary agitation, but I now understand that my biggest fear is…ignorance. I despised my ignorance; the narrow scope I lived with as a teenager and the things about me that I thought I was supposed to love. As I made my way through high school and college, I actively educated myself of things that I had been robbed of in the early years of my life.

I think about the kids who never had an opportunity for the exposure I experienced, such as my parents and grandparents…especially when I realized that the lack of exposure and understanding was how hate was bred.

I am angry.

I’m angry at my ancestors, who failed to think for themselves.

… for not making sure the next generation is less angry, racist, cynical, and fearful of anything outside of their “normal.”

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My feelings precede me, but I want to make one thing crystal clear: as a white woman, its impossible for me to write about what I would tell the world if I wasn’t scared without acknowledging that my fears and nightmares are minuscule compared to those of the BIPOC community. I could never compare our struggles or loses. If anything, I simply want to educate those who are unaware of the lived realities that they need to be educated on. I want to make it KNOWN that what you are raised to believe can be wrong. You can challenge (and subsequently disregard) the things your parents/grandparents tell you, and you can grow into a better version of yourself. At a certain point, you reach an age where it is no longer just a blissful ignorance. Instead, it becomes an active choice to remain on the side of the oppressor through neutralism.

So, here it is. My fear of the thoughts between my ears has become the antidote for my growth as a woman. My thoughts are the only thing I have that can make a difference, and I’ll use that to express this: Educate & Be Educated.

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Editor’s Comments

What an incredibly honest piece from a woman who has taken the time to sit down and do the work; to see the world for what it truly is and not what her skin tone affords it to be. As a person of color, I am incredibly grateful for allies such as Valerie Richards, especially when there is a shared understanding of what it means to be an ally in this battle for social equality (for those needing direction/education, lean on me). It is not very often that we encounter people who use their privileges to combat prejudice in this life, so it remains of utmost importance to share the stories of our allies along with our own. Valerie so vividly expresses a story of constant battle…with self…with family and subsequent ‘tradition’…with race and the divide. I thoroughly appreciate her willingness to step outside of the cloak of white privilege and challenge the things that have been taught by parents and grandparents alike, because growth truly does happen when we begin to think for ourselves. That, is the mark of a great mind. We must all reach an age when we make the decision as to where we stand on issues related to social equality, and I am proud to see that Valerie is standing on this side; on our side.

To Valerie, I thank you for all that you do and the bravery you exhibit every single day by living outside of your privilege. Please continue to educate and be educated, as you are an important part of BIPOC progress and a valued member of the movement towards social equity and equality for all people!

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thank you for spending a few moments with us! if you would like to discuss Valerie’s story with her, send her a message on instagram! —> @valeriemichell.e

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if you (or anyone you know) is interested in sharing your story with the world, please…send me a message using the contact page (or instagram —> @savantlamont) and tell me all about it! Who knows, living your truth through #SavantSpotlight can change your life, and many others!

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savant shelf selection - get it done by sam bennett

savant song selection - overthinking IT // WILLOW