Do’s and Don’ts: What Grief Can Teach Us When It Comes to Showing up for Racial Justice

When it comes to supporting grieving friends, our friends who haven't experienced loss want to do well. The trouble is they don't always know what to say or do, so they say and do nothing at all. We settle for bland platitudes. We seek out silver linings, and happy endings. We gloss over pain and crave reassurance that everything is okay, even if those reassurances are cloaked in silence and concealment. We show up for a moment, only to disappear. Too often, we fail to acknowledge those whose losses are born of institutionalize violence, or collective or historical trauma. What it means to show up meaningfully depends on the body you live in.

Here are a few obvious (and maybe not-so-obvious) tips on what and what not to say in the face of grief, and lessons for this moment.

BRAVE SPACE IS NOT (JUST) ABOUT SITTING WITH OTHERS’ DISCOMFORT. IT’S ABOUT SITTING WITH YOUR OWN.

You know what it means to hold complexity: to navigate the messiness of loss, and to refuse to shy away from it or force premature resolution. There is power in sitting with another’s pain, and refusing to avert our gaze or change the subject. There is also power in sitting with our own discomfort: in examining the ways in which white supremacy has shaped our identities, and our experiences of education, of healthcare, of police encounters, and public safety, of our work and workplaces. (Yup, we’re writing this as an organization that is 65% white, so you’d best believe we’re sitting with that discomfort too.)

So: embrace complexity, and sit in the mess – other’s and your own.

PERFORMATIVE POSTS = THE NEW “THOUGHTS AND PRAYERS”.

We talk a lot about what it means to witness grief, and the fact that we can’t talk each other out of pain. But as the students of Parkland reminded us, “thoughts and prayers” is often a cover for inaction. Confronted by systemic racism, and grief that is generations in the making, we offer perfunctory expressions of sympathy, and ask for silence in return. We share a post on Instagram, and consider our job done and our hands clean. But sometimes the best way to honor the dead is to ensure that justice is done in their nam.

Mamie Till chose to hold an open casket funeral for her son, Emmett, insisting that the nation look upon his brutalized body, and helped accelerate the civil rights movement. Lucy McBath was a flight attendant before her son, Jordan Davis, was murdered. She went on to become a Mother of the Movement, and is now a member of the House of Representatives.

Platitudes are always meant to comfort the speaker, not the griever. Don’t be fooled by them, and don’t for a minute think your work ends there.

STICK AROUND.

In the immediate aftermath of loss, we see an outpouring of care – flowers and cards and casseroles – only to see that attention vanish as time wears on. While our experiences change over time, there is no such thing as “going back”, or “moving on” or “getting over it”. Two, six, and sixteen years out, we no longer identify as “grieving,” yet we remain no less affected by the experience. Figure out a plan to stay in this for the long-haul. As The Nap Ministry says, “Rest should not be an afterthought towards liberation. Rest is a key component for justice.” If you’re among the legions of BIPOC folks on the frontlines, know that caring for other demands caring for yourself. And for white folks and other allies looking to be of support, know that anti-racism is a lifelong practice.

DON’T WAIT TO BE OF HELP.

We’ve all been witness to deer-in-headlights syndrome, and experienced it ourselves. We worry we’ll say the wrong thing, so we say nothing at all. As always, being there is better than its opposite. Most of the time, supporting grieving people means learning to sit with silence, and resist the impulse to fix the unfixable. But let’s be clear: Racism isn’t an unfixable problem. Forget trying to find the right words. Show up, knowing that can take many forms. Donate. Read. Vote. Call. March. Focus on the actions you can take.

Whether you’re in a random meeting, or a conversation with friends, or (yes) a Dinner Party, call attention to this moment. We are together confronting an uninterrupted history of racism in this country, and a persistent devaluing of Black lives and acceptance of Black death. Check in with each other, and find ways you can meaningfully help. Look to the leadership of the Black community, without relying on Black friends or colleagues to tell you what to do.