Reflections on Safety Pin Training

      Last weekend, I taught a free community training on de-escalation skills.  It was my friend's idea: she's far more involved in social media than I am and she saw both an interest and a need.  She reached out to me, she found a location, and she put out the word.  She is amazing.  And over 20 people showed up.
      Over 20 people came to learn ways to put themselves between an aggressor and a targeted individual.  They came to learn how to help others - help strangers - because they believe in embodying the values of equity and inclusion.  It was humbling.  I know it sounds corny, but I was honestly deeply moved that these individuals were willing to learn, and willing to act.  It's nice to know we're not alone.

      I am a privileged individual who, by no other means than the color of my skin, am a member of a broad and comfortable majority.  It is exceedingly rare for me to go anywhere and feel out-of-place, and when I do it's usually by choice.  But for the first few days after the election I didn't feel that way.  Everywhere I went, every White stranger I looked at, I wondered: "Who is this person?  How did they vote, and why?  What are their values?"  I was trying to read facial expressions like never before.  Were they happy or sad?  Elated that their "underdog" candidate had made it?  Or did they feel like me, distressed that such an ugly side of America had been exposed, and proved so much larger than they had feared?  It is my nature to assume that everyone is a good person when I first meet them.  All of a sudden, I was questioning that.
      My paranoia had died down a little bit since then.  Logic, education, and experience have tempered my emotions into a more reasonable perspective.  After all, not everyone who voted for Trump is an overtly racist hate-monger.  At least one person I know and love has financial convictions that blinded them to the larger social issues.  And there are people who weren't appalled by Trump's rhetoric because it echoed that of most people they know.  To them, it must have been refreshing - maybe even a relief - to finally have a presidential candidate who sounded like "a real person."  They might have experienced the precise opposite of my reaction following the election.  Maybe all of a sudden they felt more like they belonged.
      For me, the sense of isolation continued.  It wasn't until I walked into the room last Saturday and saw those strangers - those wonderful, caring, daring strangers - that I realized how much I was carrying around.  All of a sudden, here was the Seattle I knew and loved: people ranging in age from early 20's to late 50's; ranging in style from conservative slacks to heavy piercings and blue hair; and from the way they were dressed, there was no way to know what the socio-economic spread might be.*  I felt like a member of a community again.  I felt like strangers and I had something in common again.
      It fueled me.  It humbled me.  It stoked the embers of my hope.  It made me feel so, so thankful that I had something to give.  And it made me hungry to learn more, myself.
      If you were there: thank you for coming.
      We'll be doing a repeat of the first training in January, and then moving on to other topics of request later in the winter.  I will have the slides made available soon.  Another friend of mine and I will be coordinating some open trainings and forums about race discrepancy and White Privilege in south Seattle.  I hope to see some of the same people back again, and I hope to see plenty of new faces, too.  We're not alone. As I've been writing in my holiday cards: 2017 may not be shaping up to be the best year, but it can bring out the best in us.

*Of course everyone was White: the Safety Pin movement is about recognizing privilege and becoming an ally.  But you certainly don't have to be White!