8/4/2016: Dustin & Whitney

Today's #wirehousedaily includes a narrative from Dustin and an honest resume from Whitney. Hope you enjoy.

NOTE: We realized too late the video from yesterday cut short. We're hoping to fix it soon. :)

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A Time for Listening by D.H. Currier

You’re not a racist. Not a sexist. You recognize your own privilege, and you feel the collective outrage of a world that seems to be evolving before your very eyes and ears. You make an attempt to be conscious of which pronouns to use and, just as importantly, which not to use. You never even liked Chick-Fil-A to begin with. You are a vegetarian. Okay, pescetarian. You understand why #BlackLivesMatter, and you even posted about it on Facebook once. You shake your head in disapproval at the notion of outright slurs and micro-aggressions, and you know that those who whine about “PC culture” and the “pussification of America” are mostly just bigots openly mourning the loss of their ability to hurl such slurs and micro-aggressions with freedom from criticism and judgment. Your default radio station is NPR. You are aware of something called rape culture, and your heart breaks again and again and again and again until maybe you only read the headlines anymore. But you consciously avoid surrounding yourself with the Brocks, the Donalds, the Rahms, and the Clivens of the world.

You’ve carefully crafted your bubble.

But every once in awhile, you catch yourself doing “voices,” bastardizing someone else’s vernacular in a way that is disturbingly reminiscent of a Michael Scott-ism. Where the hell did that come from? Why are you suddenly speaking in some awkwardly whitewashed form of broken Spanish? Do you think that using ebonics makes you seem more affable? Do you think that using the word “ebonics” is even okay? You don’t.

You know better.

You remember how it felt the last time the word “bitch” slipped out of your mouth. The awful taste lingered there for hours, musty and sour, exactly like the last time you took a shot of Malort. You don’t drink Malort anymore, and the B-word has been extricated from your lexicon outside of quoting someone else - and even in that scenario, you’ll whisper it. You remember hearing the words “fag” and “queer” on a regular basis growing up, and you probably even used them a handful of times. To ensure it was known that you weren’t one, surely. You remember how you and your friends used to play a supposedly innocent game called Smear the Queer - where he who had the ball was crowned the Queer and his constituents honored him by ganging up and “smearing” him, tackling him to the ground. Subtle, right?

And now you’re talking to yourself. Even worse, you’ve used various forms of the word “you” approximately forty-two times in a shoddy attempt to address the unique plights of others through the lens of - guess who? - that’s right, you. You may not be a racist, a sexist, a homophobe, a villain. But this time, it’s not about you. Your lens is irrelevant.

Perhaps instead of perpetually worrying about contributing to the conversation, right now is a time for giving the mouth a rest and letting the ears do some work. Let right now be a time for listening. Listening - not waiting for a turn to speak, but actually hearing. And if right now is a time for giving voice to the unheard (it is), then someone’s got to give up theirs.

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Thoughts on Resumes by whitney lamora currier

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