A few days ago, I posted on Facebook about my upcoming re-opening and posted a picture of my tarot card display and the Death tarot card. Many people fear the Death card because they literally think it means someone will die, including themselves. The Death card represents a change, though sometimes it can mean an actual physical death.
When I was new at card reading, this card fell out of the querent’s hand while she was shuffling the deck. She asked me, “Did that mean anything?” Anyone who reads tarot cards knows every card means something. I saw it was the Death card and said, No because I was afraid that she would be put off by what I told her. We proceeded with her reading, and when we got to the end, the question she had asked about was whether or not her ailing and suffering parent was going to die, so he could be out of his pain. I was shocked because I feared, like so many do, that the Death card was negative. But in this case, Death was a blessing for her suffering parent.
I posted the Death card the other day to represent the Death of Racism. The changing of old ideas and not going backwards to the way things were. I did not explicitly say it was racism, nor did I hashtag George Floyd or Black Lives Matter. Instead, I alluded to changes that happen under the surface that can transform something microscopic, like the origin of a crystal, which forms after magma cools down, into something magnificent, like the amethyst geode clusters in my shop.
In the comments section, someone I’ve never met before and don’t know who also doesn’t know me asked me if I was going to say something in support of Black Lives Matter. You can read the posting for yourself, but I said no, not in that post I wasn’t, though I do show my support on my personal page. This person doesn’t know me personally as stated on the post. I thought, if they did know me personally, then they would know where I stand.
I’ve been thinking about it for a few days because I needed to process the messenger, the message, and the mess. I felt lots of mixed emotions, as I have since the news broke about George Floyd’s murder. I won’t get into every emotion because I’m continuing to process them even as I write and publish this blog. I’ve spoken with trusted friends whose opinion I value; with business colleagues who know my heart; and yes, even consulted with my own tarot deck. I asked the cards what do I need to know and pulled the 5 of Swords. The number 5 always represents a problem or conflict in tarot, and since Swords has to do with air (thoughts), it was a conflict in thinking or interacting with others. When I pull this card – and I have before – it gets my attention immediately.
As a white woman, I’ve thought about my own experiences with racism. I can remember hearing my grandmother and my mother saying things that struck my ear like a punch to the side of my head. I was at my grandmother’s and mentioned that I liked watching The Jeffersons. My grandmother asked (not really a question, but more of a condemnation): “What are you doing watching that n-word show?” As an 11-year-old, I told her I liked watching it. At 14 years old, I was dating a black boy and my Mother asked me, “Are you dating a black guy because you don’t think you can do any better?” to which I yelled, “Mom! I can’t believe you just said that!” and I couldn’t because I had never before nor after heard he say anything like that in my life. She was keenly aware of the suffering of Native Americans, so much so that she cried over any stories she heard or read about them. I don’t consider either my mother or my grandmother racist, but those comments definitely were. I myself was called names for hanging out with black people as a teenager in the 1980s. Those are my first-hand experiences with racism.
In 1992, I remember how horrified I was at seeing Rodney King being beaten by all of those officers. I remember the L.A. riots after the 4 officers were acquitted. Acquitted!? We all saw what happened on film. And then Rodney’s famous plea for us to all get along.
I also remember James Byrd, Jr. - the black man in Texas who was dragged to his death behind a pick up truck by three white supremacists, one of whom only last week was put to the death penalty by lethal injection.
I remember him specifically because I was a freshman English writing ESL instructor a few years after his murder. I had a class full of international students, but four white English speaking students had mistakenly signed up for my section. I battled with myself about letting them stay in the class because the class was designed for students whose first language was not English and the four white kids had a habit of knowing all of the right answers and saying it in perfect English – they very thing my other students were there to learn. I spoke to my advisor several times about these students, and decided to let them stay, against my better instincts. But they learned a lesson that I hadn’t put on the syllabus.
I liked bringing up controversial topics for discussion because 1) it was college and promoted learning and 2) it was college, an institution that promotes open-minded discussion and respectful differences of opinion. Racism was definitely on the table.
It was 2002, just a few years after the horrific news story of James Byrd, Jr’s. murder. One of my very young and very naïve 18-year-old white male students said: “Racism doesn’t exist anymore.” I asked him why he didn’t believe it existed and we started a class discussion. Every student participated except for one older Latina woman. She sat there silently weeping. I noticed the tears streaming down her face, but said nothing as I facilitated the discussion. Her tears were about to speak to all of us.
She spoke through her tears and told us how she and her four children lived in a neighborhood in rural, mostly white Missouri where her neighbors would steal her mail; throw and light dog shit on her front door stoop; call her racist names directly to her face; and threaten her and her children’s lives. Her husband had died, and she was a single mother of four children. She worked and went to college while raising her four kids.
We all learned something that day. Racism still existed in 2002! It finally existed because everyone sitting in that classroom now had the firsthand experience from someone we all knew, love, and respected. While we all had the luxury of going back to our safe homes, she was going back to her unsafe home, where her safety was determined by the color of her skin.
When I was asked if I was going to post my support for Black Lives Matter, I thought if you knew me, then you wouldn’t even have to ask. But the questioner doesn’t know me, and perhaps many of you reading this don’t know me either, so it’s my job to let you know where I stand.
I talked with friends before deciding to write and post this, and one of the friends I spoke with is black. We had a good, long, and heartfelt discussion, as we always do, and we were able to process a lot of our thoughts and feelings together. She told me to do what I thought was right, but as we kept talking, she also pointed this out to me…
“June, you’re white. You have a voice. A white voice. And you run a business – people will listen to you. When white voices speak up, then they listen.” And I heard her say what so many supporters have been asking for – more voices to take up the hue and the cry to denounce the systemic injustice that black people continue to face in the United States.
I never knew that my friend had to instruct her black sons on how to interact with the police so to minimize their chances of being killed. I never knew that she herself was afraid of being pulled over by the police for fear of her own life being taken, much like the way Sandra Bland’s life was taken. I told her that if it was her neck that had been knelt on, I would raise holy hell. She pointed out: “It still could be my neck.”
So to answer the question that was posted on my Facebook post on Tuesday, “Are you going to say anything in support of Black Lives Matter?” here is my heartfelt albeit long and overdue response.
#Black Lives Matter
To me, they always have and they always will.
✨ Blessings ✨ Blessed Be ✨ Namaste ✨