On Just Mercy and getting our truth back

I saw the movie Just Mercy a few weeks ago, having read the book last summer. I got something a little different from each (spoiler alert starting in the third paragraph).

The book, which covers many many cases from Bryan Stevenson's career defending people on death row, gave me yet another view into the layers upon layers upon layers of systemic injustice in this country, and how those layers compound upon one another exponentially to target those most pushed to the margins - Black people, poor people, people with disabilities, children, and of course quite particularly those that fall under several or all of those categories.

The movie focuses on the main case from the book, that of Walter McMillian, a Black man who is on death row after being framed for the murder of a white woman. The moment from the movie that stuck with me the most was when McMillian's case suffers a major setback, and Bryan Stevenson apologizes to his client for making it worse.

And McMillian tells him no, he didn't make it worse. He gave him his truth back.

It was a much longer and more eloquent speech than that, but that's what really struck me. That one of the things we can do to counteract systemic gaslighting is to give people their truth back.

I am not Black, and I am no Bryan Stevenson. The work I do is far less difficult, far less dangerous, and the people I help are far less marginalized.

But what I realized that I do when I walk into a room filled with BIPOC who are traumatized and devalued and marginalized within their predominantly white companies and organizations and institutions is that I believe them.

And I help them get their truth back.

I'm always wary not to fall into saviorism, and I felt I could see Stevenson struggle with that too in the movie, or perhaps struggle with questions from the communities he was helping as to why a kid from Harvard and from the north was coming down to the south to help them.

And in one scene he explains how he came from a similar community, and that his grandfather was murdered and no one came to help them. And so he knows what it is to be in the shadows.

I have a tremendous amount of privilege, but within counterparts of similar socio-economic privilege, within white collar corporate and non-profit environments, I know what it is to be in the shadows.

Being able to heal others, heals me.

At the same time, it is so much harder to do for myself and for my children what I can do for others. To get my own truth back. To help myself be heard. To help my kids be heard.

My own marginalization within my own communities, and my children's marginalization within theirs - it doesn't stop just because I've figured out how to come into organizations as a consultant and help people be heard. In fact, in some cases, my expertise has been used against me as further proof of the old "why does everything have to be about race" trope.

It's incredibly painful.

I don't really know how to explain that yes, I do have x-ray vision and I see everything through a lens of systemic oppression that most people don't see... but that's because it's real.

I shouldn't have to explain that systemic oppression is not a figment of my imagination.

Not being believed is one of the most painful things for me. I am not immune.

And it's not even about not being believed - it's the gaslighting that gets inside my head and makes me question my own reality.

What I've had to learn is that I don't need to be believed.

My reality is not up for debate.

What other people think of me is none of my business.

I have no control over other people's thoughts, feelings or actions.

I am inherently worthy - I don't need to defend or prove my worth.

My reality is not up for debate and nor is anyone else's. I have no control over other people's perspectives and their perspectives are valid (even if I think they are wrong and harmful). Their perspective is their perspective.

And we are so deeply socialized not to see things like racism.

This is why it is so deeply meaningful and healing for me to go into organizations and tell the people of color - I see you. And I believe you.

I can help them be seen and believed.

My lived experience means I am particularly able to help people of color be seen and believed, but I do my best to do that for anyone who is feeling unseen, unheard, diminished, devalued, disenfranchised and marginalized.

And I'm always transparent about how it's easier for me to do that from outside as a consultant than it can be to do from inside an organization. Or from inside my own life.

My work is healing for me. I speak for my own healing while centering on the most marginalized.

Luckily, I have colleagues, friends and a support system that helps do for me what I can do for others but can't always do for myself.

And - we don't need to be believed to be validated and worthy. Our feelings are always valid. Our reality is not up for debate.

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Banner photo by Spring Fed Images on Unsplash. Originally published on LinkedIn.