How taking a huge leap and has changed the trajectory of my life
By Becky Cain
Community Manager, Commonplace
When Lucy Waechter Webb became a member at Commonplace, I was a bit giddy and “fan girlish.” I knew of her social justice work throughout the area through SALT and had heard her speak (preach) a time or two.
Lucy’s voice; calm, direct, honest and strong, resonated in a way that invites me to hear what she’s said as profound truth. Simply put, I was (am) a fan and found myself excited to get to know her. We found opportunities for conversation from time to time, usually in the kitchen.
During one such conversation, Lucy mentioned the Understanding Racial Justice Program through Title Track. I imagine that my eyes grew big and wide as I considered the possibility. Two similar opportunities in the past five years had not come to fruition. The pieces that made this one possible were my willingness to commit to the work and the fact that Commonplace was willing to invest in ensuring the work gets done and shared with our greater community.
Seeking opportunities to serve
My foray into racial justice work has been synchronistic at best; haphazard, frightening and intimidating on the reverse. The bottom line for me has been a sense of personal responsibility for being the best human possible. Taking a deep look at the systems that have formed me has been invaluable. Sometimes that means reading, learning, practicing on my own and sometimes within a group. Practices that are active and passive make the work sustainable.
The first big jump into the work of racial justice came when I heard a call to “serve” as I recovered from surgery. While “the call” may have been the pain meds or, as Bill Murray put it, “A message from God”, more likely it was the conscious arrival of an intuitive sense that there was more meaningful work for me to do. This is not uncommon for folks as they reach middle age; the fact that a direct message arrived to me while recovering from hip replacement surgery seems apt. I felt a need, a desire, a drive to be of service. This drive was the push I needed into a unique way of life.
The bottom line for me has been a sense of personal responsibility for being the best human possible. Taking a deep look at the systems that have formed me has been invaluable. Sometimes that means reading, learning, practicing on my own and sometimes within a group. Practices that are active and passive make the work sustainable.
In doing research and having conversations with friends and family members about various service programs, my daughter mentioned the AmeriCorps VISTA program; she’s an alum. Turns out that I was a good candidate for the program. Started by the Johnson administration in the 60’s, the role of an AmeriCorps VISTA is to add capacity to a non-profit organization that is helping to fight the war on poverty. I applied for a position in rural North Carolina at Peacehaven Community Farm.
As I drove onto the Peacehaven farm property, what I saw did not fit my image of poverty. Lush, well maintained green lawns; a large, sturdy white barn, a beautiful brick home with wrap around porch and a trailer that served as staff office space. It was an illuminating reminder that not everything looks like you expect it to.
Life at Peacehaven
The mission of Peacehaven Community Farm is to connect folks with intellectual and developmental disabilities (I/DD) to the larger community through shared living and the work of a sustainable farm. By and large the biggest surprise to me, upon landing in the rural south from Michigan, was the lack of folks of color. I had naively thought that since I was in the south, there would be more visibility of BIPOC folks. Instead, I found that what is true in the north is profoundly emphasized in the south - without intention to do otherwise, middle to upper class white folks simply gather those like themselves together.
My role on the property was as the volunteer manager; diversification became my goal. And that meant outreach in ways that were very uncomfortable for me as someone hailing from Traverse City, a place without a lot of cultural diversity. Though I longed to be a part of a more racially diverse environment, trying to create it was kind of scary. That fear came from a deep place; as a white woman, I had not spent much time being in the minority. Seeking out volunteers of color meant meeting with church and public groups where I was, at times, the only white person in attendance. Established relationships with local colleges and churches, along with experience, made some of that outreach a bit more comfortable.
As the weeks went by, I began to notice a tension amongst the employees at Peacehaven. My hope in going to the farm was to create relationships and build community with all, regardless of status within our professional or extended community. But the staff weren’t all on the same page in terms of “community” so I began to ask questions, specifically: What does “community” mean at Peacehaven? It’s our middle name but we don't seem to agree on the meaning of the word, nor whether or not it’s important.
There were folks that drove in from Greensboro daily to manage the farm, the daily operations, communications and development. I was one of three VISTAs who worked amongst these professionals. And then there were other AmeriCorps members who staffed the house; four younger people, fresh college graduates who lived with the core members (folks with I/DD) on site.
Acknowledging Multiple Systems of power and privilege at Work
As I reflect on these dynamics now, it’s clear that the strained relationships were, in part, due to the power structure; this is similar to the tension within race relations. The leadership staff who drove out to the farm from their homes in the city had the greatest power - being able to come and go as they pleased. These folks also had offices away from the core members; they were not immersed in the direct service work.
The AmeriCorps members who lived with the core members were, in turn, lower on the organizational hierarchy and felt little control over their environment or how they perceived the core members to be slighted by lack of relationships with the entire staff. As months went on, this tenacious group became empowered and began to speak out on behalf of their housemates and themselves.
The AmeriCorps VISTAs were in the middle of this messiness. We found ourselves much more comfortable hanging out in the house with the younger folks and the core members. There was joy and laughter in the everyday parts of life, as well as tears and frustration. I was drawn to the authenticity and acceptance and unconditional love that I found there.
By contrast, those in leadership positions who were closer to my age, all had families and lives outside of the farm; Peacehaven was where they came to work. While occasional lunches or coffee dates with these professionals helped us slowly reveal ourselves to one another, these experiences felt a bit contrived and more focused on a time frame- “gotta get back to work!” was more important than being present with one another.
Herein was one of my greatest lessons: building relationships and community take time; these are not efficient pursuits. And the building is messy as we come together in different ways from different places with different desired outcomes. Accepting this lack of efficiency was a huge shift for me as my professional life prior to VISTA service had been as an office manager- efficiency and time management had been my modus operandi.
Building relationships and community take time; these are not efficient pursuits. And the building is messy as we come together in different ways from different places with different desired outcomes.
Self Identity
Within my first year at Peacehaven, a plethora of incredible lessons about myself were uncovered. As one who survived childhood sexual abuse, was a recovering addict, and a single mom who had raised four in poverty, I resonated strongly with the core members in feeling marginalized. However, there was (is) power in the color of my skin, the way I was raised and my educational status.
Moreover, I had to admit that part of my rationale for becoming a VISTA was to be a “good person” and help others. The more I told my stories and shared experience with the younger folks around me, the more they questioned me and helped expose my bias.
For example, by simply using the phrase “help others,” my ego and sense of power over those around me was exposed. Because the younger folks around me were well attuned to social justice movements and I was open to learning, my education was broad: movies and books were recommended and I dove in.
Early on, I remember reading something like the paraphrased: “Being racist is similar to pregnancy in that you either are, or you’re not. There’s no in between.” The phrase hit me pretty hard and I whispered to myself “Am I racist?” This is certainly not a term that I wanted to accept - not as a “good, liberal Christian.” But, given my bias and using this rationale, I had to admit that I was and am. Admitting that there’s a problem is the first of the twelve steps that have guided the second half of my life and continue to reach further to alleviate the norms that I’ve embodied.
Image borrowed from our friends at the Northern Express.
Continuing to do the work with Title Track and Beyond
The process of educating myself has been enlightening and tough; BECAUSE we live in a society whose systems were created by powerful white men, ongoing work is necessary.
[Just a note about the word “privilege”; it comes with an emotional kick often placing others on the defensive. And honestly, is it a privilege to oppress others? A more accurate word is “power” or “advantage”. The takeaway is knowing that based on a variety of social identities such as race, gender, religion, socioeconomic status, ability status, sexuality, age, education and more, specific groups of people have unearned access or advantage because of their social group.
It is with this knowledge that I gratefully gravitated toward the Understanding Racial Justice program through Title Track in January. Involvement with this cohort has been the first time that I’ve studied and learned alongside other white folks creating a sense of shared knowledge and accountability. Coming to understand that race based oppression has happened in the US for over 600 years and the great advantage that some citizens have over others is strikingly difficult yet important work.
One of the URJ themes that continues to resonate profoundly for me is that of cultural healing. During one week of the cohort, we explored the characteristics of white supremacy culture. On this list are: perfectionism, sense of urgency, defensiveness, quantity over quality, individualism and fear of open conflict, just to name a few. As one that identifies as “conflict averse” I was struck to read that: “people in power try to ignore or run from conflict, and that there’s an emphasis on being polite so raising difficult issues is being impolite, rude or out-of-line.” Yup. sounds all too familiar. Thankfully antidotes were also presented. One of the antidotes to fear of open conflict is to role-play ways to handle conflict before it happens, to distinguish between politeness and raising hard issues; once a conflict is resolved, reflect on how it was resolved and/or might have been handled differently.
Recognizing that most of the characteristics mentioned literally “hit” me in the gut, I’ve also become very appreciative of the somatic practices that were taught during the course. These physical responses are what is meant by “embodied”; they take a tremendous amount of effort to hold. Learning appropriate release techniques has proven quite valuable to the discomfort that shows up as tension in my stomach, shoulders and neck.
As with most issues both personal and societal, we must first understand what the problem is in order to [co-]create a solution. Through URJ, I’ve come to realize that the solution begins within each of us; and it is ongoing as we each become a ripple in the pond that extends out to touch and influence others. I encourage all to consider enrolling in Understanding Racial Justice. We’ve got so much to teach and share with one another in our efforts to influence radical thought and behavioral change.
