Fasting from White Supremacy: Why I’m Doing It and Why You Should, Too
White Supremacy (not to be confused with the KKK or neo-Nazis):
· a political, social, economic, and epistemological system of domination that assumes the centrality and superiority of people defined and perceived as white in order to create white advantage (Charles Mills in The Racial Contract)
· a system that “privileges, centralizes, and elevates white people as a group” (Robin DiAngelo in White Fragility)
I am so tired. So tired of being the only person of color in the room. So tired of the unspoken expectation to cater and prioritize the feelings and concerns of white people. So tired of centering the comfort of white people over Black, Brown, and Indigenous pain. So tired of weighing and considering every single word before speaking for fear that it will offend, put off, alienate, or cause discomfort to the white people around me. So tired of being around willfully clueless, fragile white people day in and day out.
I am so tired. So tired of operating in a white supremacist culture and society.
I need to take a break from white supremacy. That’s why I’m fasting from white supremacy, and I’d like you to join me because our survival depends on it.
A few weeks ago, I spent the weekend with Black, Brown, and Indigenous people, talking about decolonization, settler colonialism, reparations, and liberation. We met over Zoom for two to three hours on Saturday and Sunday. And during the whole time, I felt weepy. I could feel the tears accumulating inside my body as we sang together about Black, Brown, and Native liberation, as we shared verbal love letters to Water, as we invited our ancestors to guide and shape our conversations, as we brainstormed how to support the Water Protectors at Line 3, and as we grappled with what decolonization and #LandBack looks like for the descendants of enslaved Africans and immigrants and refugees whose migration were a direct result of U.S. militarism and empire. At the end of each session, the tears that flooded inside me overflowed as soon as I closed out of the Zoom meeting.
Why was I crying?
My heart brain and gut brain provided the answer. I have been so starved for this kind of sustenance: the kind of sustenance that can only come from tapping into the epistemologies (ways of knowing) of Black, Brown, and Native people.
I’ve been living in the desert of white supremacy, and it is scorching my soul.
Because my spirit has been so parched by white supremacy, spending just a few hours surrounded by people that centered the lives, experiences, and epistemologies of Black, Brown, and Indigenous folks was so powerful that it literally moved me to tears. I was surrounded by people, ideas, and energy that valued me. Cherished me. Centered me in a non-hierarchical, egoless way. This is what fasting from white supremacy looks like, feels like. To be embraced in that way was so healing, nourishing, and uplifting.
Now that I have a taste of what it’s like to fast from white supremacy, I want to fast even more. I’m less willing to go without those spaces and that kind of energy in my life and more willing to go without white supremacy.
Fasting from white supremacy is a necessary ritual that I need and want to incorporate into my life. Thus, I’ll be sharing how I’m fasting in the hopes that it will inspire you to do the same.
Fasting from white supremacy will save our mind, body, and spirit. It will restore, renew, and help us reconnect with our divine power and right to operate as free, liberated, and self-determining beings.
Here’s to restoring our individual and collective health. Here’s to fasting from white supremacy.
P.S. I invite you to share your stories of how you’re fasting from white supremacy by emailing me at fastingfromWS@gmail.com. I’d love to include your ideas into my forthcoming essays.
