When Maggie asked if I would take a stab at writing a blog post to wrap up November Project Brooklyn’s 2020, I felt hesitant. We especially know the power that published words hold, and I can only imagine how some people might feel reading another blog post from our city. I am even more aware of how others in our wider November Project community think of me now, and so, putting pen to paper (or well, fingertips to keyboard) appears first as a daunting task and one I do not take lightly.
The History of You
It might seem silly to write another blog post about the word *tribe*. Bryson from NP Baltimore wrote an eloquent piece on it already (read it here). Or perhaps, you saw it unfold in the Facebook discussion with the global social group name change to NP World Social. To be clear, November Project, as an international movement, no longer uses this word to define our 52 communities. And now, we’re living in a moment in history, where again white and white-passing individuals, like myself, must confront their… well, our white privilege, our white fragility, and all of the ways in which our white-centered society have inherently created an unequal, unjust world.
Try Something Scary (Bklyn)
Photo by @baklinerunning
“Are you runner #35?,” he asked, straining to see my hip numbers through both the blinding lights and distinct darkness of the Manhattan Bridge.
“Yep,” I nodded quickly. I had already been through the wringer of emotions to a point where the self-pity had lifted, and I knew there was no time for mumbling. At this moment, I had been out on “the course” for over 45 minutes, distinctly aware that I would be finishing this race in last place, with a much slower time than the rest of the field. Waves of regret, disappointment, and bright, red embarrassment flooded my brain miles before, where my first wrong turn in Manhattan sent me on a wild goose chase for the characteristic, Take The Bridge checkpoint. That goose chase continued with a few additional wrong turns, including a too-close-for-comfort encounter with the Williamsburg Bridge, an actual third bridge completed (the footbridge near Delancey Street), and the eventual reroute back on the track I’d been so desperately searching for what was likely ~15 minutes, but felt like hours.