Today’s post is personal and in the moment. No leadership lessons today, simply sharing feelings of despair, yet also feeling wonder and awe in witnessing resilience.
Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
The closing stanzas of “Still I Rise“, by Maya Angelou
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.
On Sunday night, the 19-year-old black man above, Bukayo Saka, missed a penalty kick, the final moment as England lost the final of the Euros to Italy. Before him, the prior two penalty kicks were also missed, and they were also taken by young black men. After that last miss, another young black man, who was in the group I was watching the game with, called out, in an anguished tone: “why did they make black men take those three penalties!?”
For a moment I missed the depth of pain in that question. My white privilege overrode my understanding as I have never faced any additional challenges because of the colour of my skin. What he meant, including as an England fan wanting the win, was that there was so much additional pressure on those players because of the colour of their skin, that they knew that missing a penalty would inevitably result in them being subject to racist abuse heaped upon them from many corners of their own country.
The day after that match I was talking to a person of colour I care deeply about, someone strong, resilient, positive and so much more, someone looked upon by so many in their life as a natural leader and role model. That day, though, the day after the England loss and the racist abuse that so inevitably followed, they were beyond angry, but the beyond was something so hard to be present with. They were defeated, feeling hopeless, despondent, believing that nothing can ever change. There was nothing for me to say, even my presence was a reminder, though my skin colour, my presence even adding to their hurt. For me too it was a hard moment, feeling a distance to someone I care about, yet what I felt was only the tiniest reflection of how they feel from a lifetime of this.
To see such a strong person in such a defeated mood was heart-rending, and yet, still they will rise. I do not know how they can, time after time, and yet, like Maya Angelou so eloquently wrote years ago, “still I rise”.
I do not know how one can rise time after time, but I am so glad of it. That kind of strength and determination is the best of humanity, and I have to keep believing that love wins and will always win. It is just taking so, so long for the change to come.