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Find a Black woman, or Black queer person talking about it, and listen to them.
If you have a problem worth spending money on, hire them.
If you’re skeptical about that, and doubtful that the color of one’s skin makes someone automatically more qualified (and I really agree with that), allow me to explain why.
I guess not all, but an overwhelming majority of man-made problems plaguing our world today are a result of colonization and white supremacy. Everything from housing insecurity to your personal insecurities.
And here’s the thing.
Non-Black people of color (like myself) have a different relationship to white supremacy than Black people.
Non-Black people of color (like myself) were extended a promise — which has always been an illusion and a lie, but white folks perpetuated it hard and for a long time — that we have a chance of sitting with white people and benefiting from their privilege as long as we did the right things.
As long as we spoke English. With the right accent. As long as we worked hard. As long as we renounced and shamed our own traditions and people. As long as we were willing to forget historical harm perpetuated to us. As long as we ate the right food, mimicked white habits, and glorified white ideals and norms.
let me be clear, this was always an illusion and a lie. We were never, ever going to sit at their table and fully share their privileges. They wouldn’t have it.
But we were offered the scraps, and told — if you get in line, you’ll get more. And one day, you’ll be able to have ALL of it.
Just keep being/doing more of what we told you.
Many of us — often out of wanting to just survive, and sometimes out of ambition — swallowed that lie hard and deep.
And fell in line with what white supremacy told us.
And here’s the thing: that same lie was never sold to Black people, and particularly Black women.
The message, for so long, continuing into today, was crystal clear.
“No matter how hard you try, you’ll never be one of us, you’ll never sit at our table. And in fact, the harder you try, the more we’ll deride and punish you.”
This is the reason why Black folks in general, and Black women (and queer folks!) in particular, have the clearest view of reality, and the best access to wisdom about what’s really fucked up about the world and how to fix it.
They didn’t have a choice as to whether to buy into the lies of white supremacy. Because they were systematically excluded from even being offered crumbs that came with “willing” subjugation and compliance.
From the beginning, Black folks (and particularly women and queer people) had no choice to see reality for exactly what it is.
They didn’t have the choice of buying into their own oppression the way non-Black people of color did. So, in a way, they were “forced” into clarity about the entire death cult that is white supremacy.
White supremacy doesn’t benefit white people either. In fact, white people are poisoned by it. Any system that is premised on anti-human principles, poisons those who buy into it.
The same way the patriarchy poisons men.
If you’re white, you both participate in, and are harmed by, white supremacy.
That’s why I say — regardless of whether you’re white or yellow or brown, if you want the answer, go to Black people.
Go to Black women and queer people.
They are the greatest experts and pioneers on whatever problem that you’re trying to solve — whether it’s business growth or relationship issues or nutrition — which has been inevitably created by, and/or perpetuated by white supremacy. Because white supremacy has extended its poisonous tentacles to every area of life.
Sometimes it’s a struggle to find Black teachers. Not because there aren’t a lot of them (there’s TONS AND TONS of them who are way, way more qualified and experienced than the average white counterpart), but because white supremacy has intentionally undermined and silenced them and punished them for doing the same things that white people are rewarded for.
But that’s even more of a reason you should seek them out. Don’t give up on the first day of your search. Tell everyone what you need help with, and tell them that you’re specifically looking for Black teachers, consultants, speakers, and coaches. Keep searching. Follow the breadcrumbs of information.
I’m not primarily following Black creators/teachers for some kind of social justice reason.
I’m following them because they have the best information about how to get from where I am and where I want to go.
History has forced them to be 10x more qualified and 100x more insightful than everyone else.
I feel a little nervous posting this, only because talking pointedly about a group of people I don’t belong to feels… a little risky.
But I have to say it out loud because I wish someone had told ME this long ago. It would have saved me soooo much time and wasted effort.
In our culture, it is so common to use LIGHT as a metaphor for all that is good, healthy, civilized, and virtuous.
And, conversely, DARKNESS as a metaphor for all that is bad, sick, uncivilized and sinister.
You may not be surprised to hear that associations not only have done enormous harm to people with melanated skin across the globe (by justifying racism)…
… but they have also created distortions in our relationships to our bodies and nature.
If you’re used to associating “light” with good…
Consider that: withholding darkness from people is literally a torture technique. Nonstop light, leading to sleep deprivation, is designed to break people down.
24/7 light would kill species and destroy ecosystems.
And while light in and of itself is natural (hello, the sun), light pollution — an unnatural excess of light — is doing enormous harm to humans and the ecosystem.
Fetuses grow in the dark.
All life is nourished by dark soil.
Dreaming happens in the dark — as well as transcendant and liminal visions.
There’s a reason that so many artists, writers, spiritual leaders and visionaries are night owls. Darkness reveals what light obscures.
Now, I’d love to invite you to read some excerpts from an article I just found:
“Should we avoid liturgical language of light and dark?” written by Steve Thorngate, for The Christian Century magazine.
(Be assured, this is enormously relevant even if you have nothing to do with Christanity.)
It said so many things so more eloquently that I could at this moment.
There is a long history in the church of using words like light, white, bright, and fair to connote goodness in a straightforward way and words like dark, black, shade, and dim to connote the opposite.
Most instances of such usage were not written for explicitly racist purposes (though some were). Still, this language has thrived alongside racism in White-dominated church contexts.
And language—especially ritual language, repeated again and again—has great power among those who speak or hear it, power not constrained by the intent of its creators.
The Bible is chock-full of light/dark imagery, with much (though not all) of it presenting light as the positive side of the coin.
Jesus is the light of the world, the morning star, the one who obviates the need for lamp or sunlight, the one in whom there is no darkness at all. Forgiveness for sin washes us whiter than snow.
And then, over on the other side of things, there’s the power of darkness. Why should the church avoid this language the biblical writers use so freely?
Yes, praise for the light is all over scripture… but the Bible says lots of things, and not all of them find their way into our liturgies.
Christian views of scripture vary, and I know there are those who maintain that “Is this biblical?” is the main hurdle for any idea or phrase to clear. But I have yet to visit a church that follows this principle through to its logical conclusion, giving every jot and tittle a hearing on Sunday morning.
So the mere existence of a light versus dark paradigm in the Bible hardly seems like the last word on its suitability for worship.
After all, the plain fact is that some biblical language can be hurtful to some people among us. It has been used to buttress concrete harm in the past, still is in some places, and even where it isn’t the words themselves can be a significant stumbling block.
So while addressing this fact might not be simple or straightforward, we do need to address it. “Deal with it, it’s in the Bible” is inadequate; it fails to take the problem seriously.
So does this mean we should jettison the language of light and darkness entirely? I’m not sure it does.
This language, after all, is more than biblical: it’s elemental. It names a fundamental experience of all living things.
The earth’s days and seasons are defined by the planet’s relationship with the sun’s rays—their presence and absence, the distance they travel to reach us, and the angle at which they arrive.
These cycles of darkness and light have shaped creatures, ecosystems, and communities across generations and continents, and the depth of this shared reality makes it a rich source for liturgical language.
Christian liturgy forms us in no small part by defining the passage of time in our lives. This means it is deeply invested in the role of darkness and light in the life of the planet we live on.
The challenge I faced in my songwriting project was how to explore light/dark language with care, embracing its richness and depth—while also seeking to avoid the harm it can do.
I’m considerably less certain that the particular guidelines I came up with are the best available. No doubt there’s much to quibble with and refine here. But here’s what I tried…
1) Consider the various senses in which positive language about light is used. Light can mean illumination, vision, transparency, openness, the revealing of secrets—ideas rooted in the physical function and utility of light. Explore these with care. Light can also connote color, complexion, innocence, and even cleanness—more immediately value-laden ideas that can be dangerous, especially when paired with binary language like light/dark. Avoid these.
2) Be especially cautious about negative language for darkness. Yes, it’s logically implicit in positive language about light, and some will argue that there is thus no meaningful difference between the two. But I’m convinced that it also matters what we make explicit, what we say out loud and emphasize and repeat—a point that became clearer to me as I wrote things like song refrains and they echoed in my mind. It is possible to use positive light language—and again, some forms of it are more worthwhile than others—while also taking care not to actively disparage darkness.
3) Ask, in a given situation, if you need to use language about light and darkness at all. Is what you’re saying important to your larger purposes, or are you just trying to pad an illustration or fill out a metrical line? If it is important, is there another way to say it that works just as well? The sort of qualified embrace I’m advocating implies a need to make each usage count.
4) Don’t use black/white language to mean bad/good. Just don’t do it (even though it’s biblical). The racist interpretation is too immediate, too easy to infer. Find another way to say what you want to say.
5) Perhaps most importantly: say positive things about darkness. Fertile soil is dark. A dark sky without light pollution promotes healthy rest and, paradoxically, visibility. Secrets and mysteries aren’t always bad things; their illumination isn’t always good.
What’s more, the biblical witness is not unanimously pro-light.
In Exodus 20 God occupies a space of darkness, in Genesis 15 God arguably takes the form of darkness, and the psalmist praises the protection provided by God’s shadow. In recent years, Christians have begun to write liturgical texts on such themes. There’s even a new children’s book, God’s Holy Darkness… (“Creation began in the dark. . . . Creation is God’s work done in holy darkness.”) We need more of this in the church.
6) Embrace the fact that liturgical images exist in tension with one another. The goal is not a tidy, closed system of what light/dark language is allowed to mean. Our metaphors proliferate, overlap, and sometimes even conflict. This is OK. Here I take my cues from the expansive language movement around God and gender: we need to imagine our way to a longer and better list of ways to use light/dark language in worship, rather than restrict our way to a shorter and safer one.
I’ve found these guidelines useful, but they remain a work in progress.
You can read the full text of this article, if you google the words “light dark Thorngate.” It will be the top search result.
So much of this applies directly to larger Western culture, which is formed in such large part by Christianity.
If you work in coaching or healing arts, where these metaphors are commonly used, what is your takeaway from this?
Why is Rashida hot in every still shot and I’m like THIS!??
Simone: We’ve been talking about allyship a lot, and a lot of people assume that, when I talk about allyship, it’s just about racism, or it’s about the LGBTQ+ community, or it’s about this one thing or another.
I even had people asking me, “Is this class only for white people?”
Rashida:: Because white people are the only people who are privileged, right? (/sarcasm)
Simone: Right! So let’s unpack that.
Rashida: Well, allyship is about finding solidarity with your fellow human, and it literally just doesn’t matter who they are or what group they belong to. Because as humans, we’re multifaceted. We’re not monolithic, and most of us have some sort of intersectionality.
What our brains like to do is to complicate simple things. And allyship is actually quite simple: treat people the way you want to be treated. That’s really it.
There’s not just one group of people who are experiencing oppression. There are places in your life where you are having an easier time than others, and so that is where you can show up.
Don’ try to start at your local NAACP or your local gay bar! It starts with your community. Where do you see the need? Are the children hungry? Are the unhoused being treated fairly?
Simone: You know, I’m not sorry to speak so much about racism and call out where white supremacy is doing harm. I’m not sorry to put a huge emphasis on that, because it’s important. However, I do think it’s unfortunate that allyship has gotten linked up with only that, because — yeah, obviously, systems of oppression exist. They affect us.
But it’s also like, if you’re walking down the street and you see someone fall down and hurt themselves, and you are like, “Are you okay? Can I help you up? Do you need me to get help?” That’s allyship.
Rashida: Yes!
Simone: And that has nothing to do with race. That person can be the same race as you, the same gender as you.
Rashida: Literally has nothing to do with anything other than you are on your feet and the person in front of you is not, and you’re going to help them get back on their feet.
Look. Nobody is going to leave this class with the cure to racism.
Simone: Aw, really? I was going to use that as a marketing point! LOL (/sarcasm)
Rashida: If wefind that cure, we are going to market the heck out of it. But right now, we don’t have it. We’re not going to find a cure to any sort of oppression that exists in the world.
What we will walk away with are tools that help us to be more self aware, so we know how to help our fellow human.
We’ve already established that people of color need help. LGBTQ+ community can use some assistance, especially from straight, cis people. But that isn’t the only place.
We’re talking about human-to-human interaction. And I think that makes it so much more simple and easy to digest. You don’t have to take on “the world”. You take on your world.
Simone: One of the things that you talk about in the free introductory class (which – have you downloaded it yet?), called Sustainable Allyship 101 is, you say, “I’m a black woman who is short, so I’m obviously not the paragon of unearned advantages in America. But also, I am cisgender, I am heterosexual, and I was raised Christian.”
We also talk about: do you speak English? Great. You speak the most dominant language in the world, and non-English speakers are at a huge disadvantage in the world because they don’t get to make their oppression be heard by people with the most power in the world.
Are you a US citizen? Are you a UK citizen? Are you a citizen in a country where the fact that you hold citizenship gives you a lot of advantages that aren’t afforded to other people who don’t? These are all places where we can share our resources.
Rashida: That’s it. That’s it. There’s no need to overcomplicate it, because when we feel like things are overwhelming, we tend to stay still.
Simone: Implicitly, that’s how I think a lot of people feel. If I’m a white person, I have to go and be the person who fixes racism for all of us. Or if I’m a man, I have to be the one who solves sexism. No! You are relieved of that responsibility!
Rashida: Yeah, let it go! You don’t have to hold on to that.
I think that recognizing your own world is so important because the world at large is overwhelming. Oh, Lord, is that going to happen in our country in a month or two? I was literally on the phone with a friend, and I was like, “You know what? I’m going back to my delusion. Everything’s fine. My world is right here, and I’m going to do what I can in my world.”
And those small things make a big difference. And it’s actually not small. It just seems small because it isn’t “the world”. But why in the world are we trying to take on “the world”? Why do we feel like we can do that?
Simone: I don’t know why. Yeah, I have to confess, I am affected by that. That bug bites me sometimes, where I’m like, “Oh, I feel like a horrible person because I haven’t solved genocide.”
Rashida: All by yourself, all in your brilliant mind, right?
Simone: I’m curious about your thoughts on this. What do you think about the encapsulation of allyship being: being the neighbor that you want to have?
Rashida: Absolutely. Be a good neighbor to your literal neighbor.
My neighbor raises chickens. She heard on the news that eggs were expensive, so whenever we want eggs, she is happy to give us eggs for free. When she’s out of town, we watch her house. When we’re out of town, she watches our house. That’s neighbor stuff. We’re making her life easier, and she’s making our life easier.
Simone: Where can I find a neighbor who has chickens?
And even if you don’t have chickens, what do you have a surplus of? Because you need your own to survive. Like your neighbor needs to have eggs for themselves, but when you have “extra” of something, you can share with others.
I have a surplus of material stuff. I live in an air conditioned and heated house and – you know – a fridge full of food at 24/7. And even on top of that, I have money in the bank! So where can I be of help with the extra that I have?
And it’s not just material, right? When your friend is feeling down, you might have a surplus of emotional resources, and you can be of support to them. That’s being a good neighbor.
And if you don’t have a surplus of stuff, then you take care of yourself.
Rashida: Absolutely. I know that I’ve heard people talk about allyship and say: “I don’t want an ally. I want someone who’s going to walk alongside me, knowing that we are not different.”
But the thing is, we are different, and so I think it’s really important to respect that, not only are we different in our group identifications, but we’re different as individuals.
Simone: I want to slow down here, because I don’t think people quite understand how important this is.
Let’s say a black person says, “I don’t want an ally who’s over there and thinking they’re helping me from over there. I want someone who’s going to fight the fight with me on the front line, next to me.” And that is entirely understandable.
But even if they’re linking arm-to-arm with you and walking next to you on the front line, their experience is different from your experience. And the consequences they face are going to be different from what you face.
Rashida: It’s important to respect those differences and to celebrate them, because that’s how we bring different strengths to the table. We are different, but that doesn’t mean we can’t work together. It doesn’t mean that we can’t have the same goal. We’re just approaching it differently.
Simone: Each of us can bring our own differences to the table: our own gifts, our own talents, whatever our own “surplus” happens to be. Who lacks resources that I have? Who could benefit from my surplus? That is how we make our own corner of the world better — my community, my home.
And nobody is fixing racism!
Rashida: Right. God bless you. But maybe if we do a lot of small things together, one day, that’s what will happen. But right now, this moment, let’s just bring our expectations down a little bit.
Simone: So this class, our upcoming class is for you if you’re white, if you’re brown, if you’re black, if you’re purple. It is for everyone who wants to learn how to treat other people the way you would want to be treated.
Rashida: By the way, this is how you feel empowered in your own life, and not powerless. Because I know a lot of people are feeling powerless and angry, and ask: “what do I do with this rage?” This is going to help you with that.
Simone: I think that’s why, if you’re a person of color, or a member of a marginalized community, you especially shouldn’t miss this class.
Even if you experience a lot of marginalization, this class will help you to locate your power where you are powerful, and to be able to use that for good. And I promise you, we will help you find those. And you’re going to just feel better.
Rashida: I really want everyone to get that free ebook, because it’s going to set you up. It’s a workbook, so you get to work some stuff out. And it’s literally the training that I do for folks here in Indianapolis. I have been doing it since before the pandemic. It’s tried and true, and really wonderful. And it’s going to set you up very nicely for Thursday.
Simone: It is really the perfect preparation you can do for the deeper level of conversation we’re going to have on Thursday.
And if you don’t have the means to participate in the paid class, the free book is going to give you so much good stuff to work with.
And the recording of the paid class is going to be available for sale, even after the live class so there’s no rush if you’re feeling stretched, yeah.
Okay everyone. Rashida and I’ll be back. Thank you for joining us.
If you want to listen to the full, unedited version of our conversation, you can watch the Instagram Live that this transcript was taken from.
Rashida and I both just saw Wicked. No one wrote the film review that I was desperate to read, until Rashida spoke it out loud. Right here.
WARNING: This conversation contains massive spoilers. If you don’t want them, don’t read!
Rashida: I was really excited to go see it, because I had been avoiding Wicked for some years. When it came out, there was so much hype around it. Even after having been to Broadway in New York so many times, I just have never seen it. And so when the previews were coming out, my daughter was like, “I really want to go.” So I said I’d go with her.
I just walked in knowing that Dorothy isn’t the victim that you know, that the Wicked Witch of the West isn’t a bad person. And that’s really all I knew.
When I saw the beginning, they immediately started singing about how “Nobody mourns for the wicked.” But I already knew that she wasn’t wicked. So that felt gross, right?
I also knew from the previews that Glinda and Elphaba are friends. And when I saw Glinda, first of all, reveling in the hate for this woman that she considered a friend at one time – I’m probably going to get emotional – even if it was fake, a version of delight and joy that everyone was having for this woman’s life being gone… This is scene number one.
Then I watch this woman who was othered from birth, has no support except for this bear who loved her and took care of her, has no love, no support from her father. Her mother died when her baby, when her little sister was born, her little sister isn’t sure what to do with her. And people are allowed to abuse her, and when they do, she gets blamed.
I want to talk about how I connected to that as a black woman. There’s no way I could count from childhood to now, my 46th year on this planet, how many times I’ve been blamed for how I should have done something differently so people didn’t treat me in a way that made me feel small, so they could feel big, so they could get me back into the place that I was supposed my entire life.
So watching her go through that, I was instantly inside of her shoe. I understood it. I had supportive parents, but that doesn’t mean other adults in my life were supportive. And my parents couldn’t always be there. So, there were many times that I was blamed for my abuse.
That is why having the “good person” title is not what allyship is about. A lot of times when you are doing the work, people don’t think of you as an “ally”. They think of you as a disrupter, a person who is making them feel uncomfortable. They don’t like you. So if you are coming in here wanting to be liked, that’s not the work.
Even though this has been happening since birth, it’s still tender. I’m still a human who doesn’t want to be othered. And I don’t want to be blamed for my abuse. But that’s just the way the world is working now.
Elphaba was super defensive every time somebody met her. “Um, yes, I’m green. I know I didn’t grow up eating grass. No, I’m not sick. Yes. Is the way I’ve been since birth.” That’s her thing.
And people often look at that, especially if it’s their first time hearing it, and ask, “why are you so defensive?” Not “Wow, what happened to you that this is something that you automatically just tell people? Something must have happened to you for this to be your default.”
I can’t understand how you can’t find empathy for why she has to be so defensive. She shouldn’t have to rattle things off to people, because she’s always been faced with what feels to her like ridiculous questions.
She finally gets this friend, almost begrudgingly, not from a natural evolution. But they become very close, very quickly. And even when they get to Emerald City, you see Elphaba say they’re “very good friends.” But then Glinda looks at her and says, “best friends”.
And to accept that is vulnerability. “Okay, what you’re telling me right now is that you have my back and I have yours.” So, when they get in there and realize that everything is corrupt, and in order to gain power, the wizard says you have to find a common enemy — which here is the animals who weren’t even hurting anybody…
Simone: They were the scapegoat.
Rashida: Literally! The literal scapegoat!
How many scapegoats do we have? How many common enemies were created just this election cycle? Trans people make up 1% of the population, and people are so afraid about something they don’t know. Thinking that their children are going to go to school one gender and come back another gender. They don’t know how ridiculous that is. But because it’s only 1% of the population, most people don’t even know a trans person…
Simone: … and they intentionally inflamed that completely ridiculous fear again and again on purpose.
Rashida: For 1% of the population! And it kills me because of the suicide rate among that population. People are taking their own lives. For lies.
For Elphaba, there are no other people who are green. She is the only green person, so she has no other people to fight with. The goat who was the professor had a house full of other animals to fight with. She doesn’t have anybody. And at this time, she thinks she has Glinda.
Simone: You said earlier that they became friends under unnatural circumstance. The unnatural circumstance was that Glinda was trying to manipulate her way into getting Professor Morrible’s approval.
Rashida: Exactly. And we saw Glinda be very typical – and I’m just going to say the words – white girl privilege throughout the movie. When she says something offensive and somebody reacts, and then she’s like, “What? What did I even say?”
Simone: What hit me at the gut was how lavishly she gets praised and adored for, like, throwing a crumb at someone else because she calculated that it would benefit herself somehow. “Oh my god, you’re so generous. That’s so sweet of you. I can’t believe you’d be so selfless.” Her actions are over-praised and misdiagnosed as “good” and celebrated again and again and again.
Rashida: And when I saw her use her unearned advantage as a popular person to help Elphaba at the party, I was like…
Simone: Tell me what you think. I think that was the only pure moment of allyship in the entire movie. The rest of it was Glinda actively putting down Elphaba, or conspiring with forces that were trying to destroy her.
Rashida: Exactly. And meanwhile, just being like “We’re best friends!” That manipulation, coupled with active, ongoing betrayal throughout the entire thing – except for that one moment.
Simone: And before going to Emerald City, the whole song Popular – “I’m gonna make you popular.” All of that, to me, was so painful, because it felt like all of white people’s attempt to make us “better” and “save” us by making us be more like them, even though… “you know that you will never be us, and you will never be as powerful as us. But whatever you have going on over here is bad. So let’s try to change you a little…”
Rashida: “It makes you more like me.”
Simone: “You will never be me — don’t get me wrong — but you’ll be a little bit better than this.”
On the surface, it looked like a popular girl helping the unpopular girl. But no, this wasn’t about friendship to me. This was about a very cruel power dynamic in which the dominant way of being is acting as a violent force to erase and marginalize the the non-dominant way…
Rashida: Right, and even when their goat professor was forcibly taken out of the room and he’s yelling, “They’re not telling you the truth!”, Glinda’s reaction just made me so angry. “Well, what are we supposed to do?”
Simone: That is the very definition of non-allyship. That is actually the default. The default is resignation and denial and complicity, because you are prioritizing not making waves. You are chasing the illusion of safety above all else, above justice, above fairness, above humanity.
The heartbreaking thing that the movie pointed out is that the majority will always choose the illusion of safety. They will not choose allyship, even when they have literally seen with their eyes that the dominant power structure is a lie. And there’s no “there” there. It is a fabricated con.
Rashida: Because they’re like, “Well, this may be fake, but it is what’s powerful. So maybe I can find myself a place in this, too.” Because remember, Oz being powerful was just an illusion. Elphaba was the one with the power.
Simone: Exactly! The majority says, “I will choose the illusion of power over actual power again and again, because it makes me feel safe.” Oh, that is the quintessence of what it means to fail to be an ally.
Rashida: Yeah, one hundred percent. So when they’re in the tower, and Elphaba asks Glinda if she’s coming – and you know that she’s not – Glinda gets her a cape. Literally all of the things in the Wizard of Oz that made her scary – the pointy hat, the black cape – Glinda put them on her.
And then, she was alone again. She had to be strong by herself again, and she had to know that this person cared about her, but didn’t care enough to put herself in any minor amount of danger.
Simone: You know what screamed white supremacy about that whole sequence is that Glinda kept just saying, “We can talk this out. Let’s just go and talk to them. It’s all a big misunderstanding. If you’re just nice enough…” It is such a blatant and cruel betrayal of what Elphaba was there for.
Rashida: Right? Because you’re not going to talk to me and try to help me. You’re trying to talk to me to get me to submit. You don’t want me to be me.
When I saw Glinda make that decision, and Elphaba realized that she was on her own again – and now, it’s not just dealing with bullies, it’s the largest force in the world that has now called her an enemy, and has told the entire world that that they have to find her because she is wicked – she had to do all of that by herself.
This is a dramatic thing to say, but it just made me remember all of the people who didn’t choose me. All of the times that I said that I was so afraid for my life. Not even my life, my husband’s life. Every time he gets in a car, I’m afraid. Every time he walks outside of our door.
I’m afraid every time my child leaves this house because my baby has a mouth. And she’s not a black man, but she is a mouthy black woman, and the world don’t like that.
I have fear every single day that we leave this house that we’re not gonna make it back. And when I tell that to the people who are in my life who loved this musical on Broadway, who read the books, who were loved this movie so much, but then they chose their whiteness over me… I saw all the times that it has happened in that moment.
And I know that people in the theater were emotional. They were emotional because, “Oh, this is so sad. Oh, she’s defying gravity and oh, good for her.”
Fuck that.
She doesn’t want to have to defy gravity. She just wants to live. She has to fight because she’s been forced to.
That’s some bullshit that she has to do that.
“Oh, we’re so proud of you for being so brave.”
I just want to walk around without people harassing me. That would be cool. I would love to not be called wicked by the most powerful force in the world. I would love to have my power and not be seen as evil or as wrong. I would love to just sit in my power and help people, because that’s my nature.
But because I have this power and I am really good at helping people, people don’t know how to take it. So now I’m this thing that’s flying around in the sky, because that is the only place that I’m safe. And who does she have right now?
Simone: Every step of the way, you see the complicity. If there are 1000 characters in the movie, it’s 999 of them who continue to actively create that reality for Elphaba again and again. “I have the opportunity to just treat her the way that I would want to be treated. But I am not going to take it, because I like the illusion of safety.”
It wasn’t like the ending just happened to her. It was a slow and constant process of everyone around her actively failing her, not knowing and not caring. This is what has been happening and is still happening to black people, trans people…
Rashida: Think of the people who presented themselves as ally: the teacher and Glinda. This is why people don’t like the word “ally”. Because they show up with all the friendliness on their face. But when it comes down to it, they’re just using you.
And now here I am having to defy gravity, because y’all wouldn’t have my back.
Simone: And once you get burned enough times, you’re just gonna be like, “Fuck all of that.”
Rashida: Right? That is why I feel like our work is changing the tone of the word ally.
You can’t call yourself an ally and choose comfort. You can’t call yourself an ally and choose the illusion of safety. You can call yourself a “good person” all day long, but you don’t get to call yourself an ally.
An ally is a person who’s going to jump on that broom with her.
An ally is a person who’s going to take the palm of their hand and push the wizard down and get him the hell out of there.
Someone who’s going to get on that microphone and say, “Hey everybody? Guess what? We actually realized that Oz has absolutely no power, and we need to get him out of here.”
That’s what an ally does. And we’re not going to accept any other version of that, because if you say you are that, and you decide to choose the illusion of comfort, we’re calling you out.
Simone: Rashida, to me, this is what Wicked was about. And I think people are way too happy about this movie. And I’m like, you should have left the theater with a giant crisis.
Rashida: I was nauseous. I came home and had to take a shower. I was so sick and angry at all of the people who have just been like, “Oh, this movie’s so great. Oh, it’s so wonderful”.
I even posted on Facebook, “Did they change the plot? Is this the same movie that was the musical that y’all been dying over for 20 years? Because I cannot believe that a good portion of you are the exact same people who voted for…
Simone: Well, I could believe it. I think those are the same people who think this movie is about friendship! And music! Cute songs and lighting and costumes! I think if you weren’t profoundly uncomfortable after watching the movie, then you completely missed the point.
Rashida: In situations like this, I work very hard to find the empathy, to find the place where they’re coming from. And I’m going to tell you, the feelings are still super fresh, so I’m struggling with that right now. I’m still just mad right now.
Simone: I was actually searching online to see who is saying this. And I didn’t find much. There are people going, “oh yeah, it’s talking about fascism” but no one I saw was having this conversation that Rashida and I were about to have on text.
There’s going to be someone out there who listens to you talk about it and will feel healed by it. So thank you for saying yes to this conversation. Thank you for sharing even while it’s fresh for you.
If you want to listen to the full, unedited version of our conversation, you can watch the Instagram live that this transcript was taken from.
Aurora Borealis in High Latitudes from the book William MacKenzie’s National Encyclopedia (1891)
For nearly 15 years, I’ve called myself a coach.
I have trained, taught, and yes, coached coaches.
For the longest time, I had the purest love for it.
And I am leaving this world behind.
I wanted to talk about why.
Let’s zoom out a little bit.
And take a look at historical context.
The whole field, and construct, of coaching couldn’t exist without psychology and psychotherapy having come first.
Coaching, like psychotherapy, is a complicated field.
It’s complicated because, in the Western world, these are often the only options someone has to get help when they’re in pain.
This is not a small thing. Because there is a lot of pain in the Western world.
And they couldn’t have survived this far if they didn’t sometimes work, and work vitally and profoundly.
I have said this before, and I am happy to repeat this: I credit people who call themselves coaches with saving my life. They really did. And I know I am far from alone.
Many therapists and coaches do literally life-saving work. (And many others don’t do much, and many others yet do quite the opposite.)
The fields of both therapy and coaching are sometimes self-selected into by people who are selfless, compassionate, and profoundly moved by the suffering of other humans. Other times, not so much.
Sometimes, the practitioners of therapy or coaching are incredibly skilled at their craft. Other times, not so much.
For many who are genuinely skilled, their dedication to it comes way before their desire for money or status, if they care for those things at all. I know both coaches and therapists who basically live like ascetics, and are content with their lives just helping people.
To make black & white generalization about either of these fields is difficult.
These fields do a lot of good. And they do some not-good.
Because I experienced firsthand so much of good in it, and met some of the most generous and kind-hearted people in it (including so many of my teachers, colleagues and clients), I carried the torch for it and defended it for as long as I did.
But over the past few years, it has become increasingly difficult to do so, as I learned more history, reflected on the realities of the world, and delved deeper into my own spiritual roots.
Doing even the smallest amount of research into the roots of Western psychiatry and psychotherapy is to be horrified by its racism, colonialism, and violence.
Perhaps even more horrifying to contemplate than the violence that is visible for all to see is the violence of what has been cleanly erased, exterminated, wiped off the map, to make for the advancement of these Western institutions.
What has been erased can’t make sounds.
(The sounds of my great-grandmother throwing a knife at the door to cast out wayward spirits. The sounds of grandmother rattling her shaman’s bells.)
It is from the “clean slate” of this erasure that the field of coaching is born, breathless with the promise of 20th century, Cold War-era, American capitalism:
YOU can get rich. YOU can be hot. YOU can be happy. YOU can hack your way out of aging, unhappiness, and loneliness.
All you need to do is to improve yourself. Let us show you how! Here’s where to make the deposit.
Both coaching and therapy were created, popularized, and represented — still — at the highest levels by white people (mostly men), in post-colonial, post-industrial times, growing in conjunction with capitalism, with the centers of intellectual influence coinciding with global centers of economic and military power (e.g.US, Western Europe.)
In the big scheme of things, I’m small fish, swimming in small waters. And from my view, I have come to see how this shows up in every crevice of what I could observe.
(1) The fact that there is almost no coaching “practice” that hasn’t been appropriated, multiple times over, from an indigenous tradition.
Borrowing and adaption between cultures is entirely normal and healthy.
An utter lack of acknowledgment or crediting because of the enormous power differential between cultures, no sense of right relationship, and no appropriate sense of how to be in relationship with lineage… is another.
Take, for example, the Eastern practice of “mindfulness” — the idea of observing your own thoughts from a neutral place. This was never, ever meant to be in service of individual happiness, productivity, and wealth. And in Eastern traditions, it was always, always grounded in the necessity of moral action and serving the needs of the community.
I could give a hundred other examples.
(2) The way that default coaching “goals” and aspirations fit so snugly with capitalist values that are destroying the Earth
The quickest and easiest possible accumulation of individual wealth, growth at all cost, the celebration of consumerism, individual happiness (an oxymoron), what I call the “Amazon Next Day Delivery” approach to inner peace and contentment…
… a compartmentalized vision of “wellness”, productivity, an ideal of physical beauty that Hitler would salivate over (Aryan-blonde, blue-eyed, slim, youthful and fertile)…
(3) And, as a corollary, a pathological avoidance of things that are decidedly NOT capitalism-friendly
Slowness, aging, pain, illness, decay, illness, loss, darkness, silence, liminality — all things that were honored, and considered to contain inherent value and wisdom by Indigenous traditions.
(4) The fact that the vast majority of coaching businesses do not even make passing references to systemic and collective issues, and, in fact, go out of their way to avoid them.
Because it’s “unprofessional.” “Irrelevant.” “Low vibrations.” “Divisive.”
And, ultimately, “bad for business.”
(5) The dire lack of eldership — despite the overabundance of self-professed “experts.”
All of the above contribute to an environment in which enormous sum of money are always being cycled through while the collective is, somehow, becoming more and more impoverished both materially and spiritually.
There was a moment when I clearly saw that the work of “redeeming” or “changing the system from the inside” was an illusion.
That’s when I knew: I was out.
… human interdependence and cooperation, rather than individualism and commodification must be at the heart of the psychology of liberation, which should be about empowering people to change institutions and radically transform social structures, rather than adjusting and submitting to the status quo while making a profit. — Hamza Hamouchene
A friend asked me what I would call myself, if I am no longer calling myself a coach of any kind.
My answer was simple; HUMAN.
Because, that, I am.
You may call me teacher, as I intend to go on teaching. Oh, there is so much to teach.
If you still want to call me a coach, that is okay, too. I am not offended. It is a name I was proud to go by for many years, and I am okay to still be called it. It is part of my makeup and lineage.
If you want to know what self-cultivation and healing looks like outside of the broken cultures and institutions of the Western world, read books by people like Malidona Patrice Somé, Jiddu Krishnamurti, Thich Nhat Hanh, Robin Wall Kimmerer, Tyson Yunkaporta, Cole Arthur Riley, Tricia Hersey, Tamela J. Gordon.
The list could be miles and miles long. These are some names I could throw off the top of my head, just the tip of the tip of the tip of the iceberg.
There’s no moral purity here.
I collude with white supremacy and capitalism by virtue of being alive in 2024, despite ongoing experiments to more responsibly steward what I can.
We’re all wrestling with complicated history and constructs and doing our best.
There are coaches of color doing groundbreaking work, and white coaches who are actually radical activists in disguise, doing some of the most courageous work I know. (I bow down to you.)
Coach, Schmoach, whatever… these are just words.
We will be known by the seeds we sow in the world, not what it says on our business card (or, nowadays, Instagram bio, I guess).
Whatever you call yourself, I don’t care.
If you take the time to hang out with me, read my words, and find my thinking useful, I am grateful to you. And you are warmly welcome in my world, always.
