From the Team

July 2019

I jogged past the iron bars surrounding my hometown alma mater, Fresno High School (FHS). It was the Friday before the school’s Spring Break. The oppressive heat of a Fresno, CA spring doesn’t punch like the fist of a Fresno summer. It’s more like an open-handed slap, the kind that sometimes bruises a child’s skin as punishment for simply being a child.

As sweat dripped from my forehead, I saw a Black male teenager being arrested by two police officers outside campus. “If you see someone being arrested, it can be supportive for everyone’s safety if you stop and witness. This is especially true if the arrested person is a person of color, and even more true if you are white”. These words from my colleague and dear friend, Leonie Smith, echoed through my head at that moment. She said them during a Responsible Bystander training, an offering Leonie co-developed and led at a meditation center last fall.

“There must be a reason for it. There’s probably nothing you can do. Just keep running”. This harsh voice followed Leonie’s. It is old and familiar. I attended FHS during the era of “No Child Left Behind”, a time when increasing numbers of children of color were forced behind bars. That harsh voice frequently controlled my response when I was a student at FHS. Although I was in the statistical minority of white kids within the student body, white privilege protected me and influenced my decisions to turn away from my criminalized peers.

Since Leonie’s voice is far more beautiful than that harsh, played-out voice, I decided to listen to her. Not only did I witness the arrest, I also drew upon nonviolence trainings I learned from Leonie and other activists at the Nonviolent Global Liberation retreat in Santa Cruz, CA. The wisdom imparted during that retreat helped me prevent the arrest of a second teenager. As I read Miki’s ‘Steps toward meaningful action‘, my understanding of the experience deepened. I am sharing my account of the experience here, and using the steps as a framework to reflect on it.

My account of the experience:

I stop jogging to witness a white police officer arresting a Black teenager. A Latino cop searches the teen’s backpack on the hood of a police car. I don’t hear anyone informing the arrested teen of his rights. A Latino teenager approaches and talks to his arrested friend. “We’re like cousins”, the friend tells one of the cops when asked why he is there. The white officer puts the arrested teen in the back of the police car, but they allow the friend to stay and talk through the slits in the car window.

A third police officer, who is also white, drives up, gets out of his car, and starts yelling at the friend within minutes. The friend tries to explain his close relationship with the arrested teen. The third officer continues yelling, and the friend eventually yells back. The cop moves towards the teenage friend, stops within a foot of his face, and threatens to arrest him for truancy.

Drawing upon lessons learned from nonviolence activist trainings, I witness, actively work to transform my enemy images of the police officer, and step towards the situation to support everyone’s safety. Recognizing the Latino teenager as more vulnerable in this situation, I focus on him. I look at him and say, “Hey, I know you’re worried about your friend”. The teen stops shouting briefly and looks at me. The third officer continues to yell as I try to talk to the friend. I turn to the officer and ask, “Can I have a moment to speak with him?”. “Sure, go ahead”, he responds as he walks away from the Latino teen and towards his fellow officers.

“I know you’re worried about your friend, and I am, too. That’s why I’m here. I am concerned that you might be hurt or arrested if you stay, though. I encourage you to go on campus”. The friend listens to some of what I say before shouting an expletive at the police officer, then he walks on campus. I feel blood rush to my feet and my heart beat rises as I realize the friend is safe in that moment.

The next moment, I turn my attention back towards the officers and the arrested teen. I hear the officers discuss why the teen is a suspect for armed robbery, even though they didn’t find any weapons on him. They say they suspected him because he was in the neighborhood where the crime took place,  he was sweating a lot, and he fit the description of the suspect. 

Suddenly, the third officer looks at me and asks, “Are you a school official?”. “No, I’m just concerned and decided to witness”, I respond. “Oh, ok, well thanks for your help with that kid”, the officer says. I notice myself wanting to shout at him and blame him for escalating the situation, but I stay silent. I neither challenge nor affirm his misrepresentation of my intention.

Eventually, the two white officers drive away in separate cars. The Latino officer gets in the driver’s seat of the car holding the arrested teen. As the engine starts, I walk towards the slotted window and say this to the arrested kid: “Don’t say anything other than ‘I need a lawyer’. That’s all you say, over and over, until you have a lawyer. Nothing else!”. The arrested teen looks at me and nods his head before the car pulls away. 

Steps toward Meaningful Action:

Notice. Before stopping to witness, I noticed the two voices in my head. When hearing the harsh and more familiar voice, I noticed tension in my body. Memories of the many times I walked away from criminalized classmates throughout high school filled my head. These memories plagued me as I recognized a sense of disempowerment and failing integrity. I noticed Leonie’s voice illuminated the possibility of using my white privilege in service of a nonviolent outcome. In making a conscious decision to stop and witness, I recalled the lessons of many nonviolence trainings: maintaining embodied presence, setting intention, empathic listening, transforming enemy images, and holding safety for all while supporting those most vulnerable. This helped form my vision of a different outcome as I made moment-to-moment decisions to act.

Mourning and Analysis. Although it seems paradoxical that something deeply emotional like mourning and something seemingly cold and impersonal like analysis join together, they are deeply intertwined in my view of this situation. Mourning happened in the moment, and continues to happen. I mourn the past, recognizing that my blind adherence towards the harsh voice contributed to disempowerment not only for me, but also for my peers. I mourn the present, especially for these two teenagers who are detrimentally impacted by systemic racism in the criminal (in)justice system. I mourn that disempowerment still influences me as an adult, as I remained silent when the white police officer misrepresented my intentions with his words, “thanks for your help with the kid”. This implied that I agreed with the police that the teen friend needed to be controlled, rather than recognizing that I was supporting his safety and freedom. 

Some of Stephanie’s Armenian ancestors (her grandmother Nevart is the young woman standing)

Analysis and mourning are most obvious to me when I travel through my deep past. The pattern of hiding behind white privilege goes beyond my lifetime. My father, who was born and raised in Fresno by refugees of the Armenian genocide, embraced white identity and encouraged me to do the same. My grandparents’ terror influenced their decision to assimilate (side note, ‘Smith’ is not an Armenian last name) in a city where racism and xenophobia comingle with the toxic pollutants in the air. My family wanted to experience freedom and belonging, and they believed whiteness was the appropriate strategy to have these needs met. By the time I was born, the survival strategy of embracing whiteness while turning away from “others” became an entrenched behavioral pattern. I want to note that while I am analyzing the causes from my ancestral roots, this is not comprehensive. I have immense love, respect and compassion for my dad and Armenian ancestry. Still, it is important to recognize the influence of assimilation on my life so I can mourn the pain of my Armenian ancestors, reckon with my own decisions, and choose something different going forward.

Reframe as needed. Miki’s description of reframing fits well with my experience of the police officers at the scene. She says, “If we see the police as a part of the working class that was pushed into working for the elite we will act differently than if we only see them through the lens of the impact they have as instruments of the state, without holding in the mix their humanity, including their potential to shift”. A similar reframing happened for me. I made a conscious choice to transform enemy images of the police as I witnessed. Through this process, I noticed my nervous system settle in the intensity. I am convinced this helped me stay as calm as possible as I approached the escalating argument between the white officer and Latino teen. Had I approached that encounter without connecting to the officer’s humanity, I believe the risk of further escalation and harm could have changed the course of events.

Discern and Care. As I age and mature, I am gaining more insight and clarity into what I bring to this life. As an adult woman with white privilege, I knew I had more power and influence than either of the teenagers. Knowing my social location helped inform my role, and the decision to act more boldly than I had in past situations that were similar.

I also experienced discernment as a moment-to-moment necessity during this interaction. This continuously informed decisions to care for all, especially for myself and the teenagers.  Orienting towards embodied presence helped me gauge that I could step towards the escalated encounter with composure and effectiveness. I recognized my visceral reaction to the police officer when he mischaracterized my intention for witnessing and intervening. Discerning that blaming and yelling might compromise my own safety, and therefore the ability to show up for the arrested teen, I made the best choice I could in the moment – to remain silent. Being able to stay at the scene and continuously responding to each moment, I realized that I hold knowledge about what the arrested teen might experience as he was taken away. I also knew what he could do to protect himself from self-incrimination, and I recognized it was vital to share this information with him before he drove away into an unknown situation alone. With discernment, I took care of myself each moment, and this ultimately helped me take the best possible care of everyone in the situation.

Support. I am fortunate to have many connections to NVC activists. Within hours of the incident, I received empathy from a friend who helped me celebrate the prevention of the Latino teen’s arrest, mourn the Black teen’s arrest, and identify feelings and needs relating to my silence when the officer mischaracterized my intentions. She also encouraged me to do some shaking to help release residual trauma from the experience. Leonie and I discussed the incident a few days later. She gave me similar empathy, helped me understand I did the best I could when I chose to remain silent, and helped me brainstorm other ways I could respond that felt more empowered and aligned with my intention. These early conversations encouraged me share the story with other friends, including non-NVC practitioners. As I told more people in my network about the incident, I found myself motivated to share this story with even more people. It is my hope that this will encourage others to act, to make mistakes, to learn, and to grow together. It is my hope it will support more freedom and peace in our world. 

Stephanie Smith is the Administrator at BayNVC. She would love nothing more than to see you at the NGL California retreat this year! She can be reached via email at stephanie@baynvc.org.

May 2019

In the Humility Corner of her Celebrations and Mournings, Miki reflects: “I am seeing how challenging it is, in some situations, to release any attachment, and to come into a conversation truly ready to learn.” I recently experienced a related situation when I met with Leonie, my co-Steward at BayNVC, about our outreach efforts. Having reflected on the situation independently, I approached her with a proposal and asked for her thoughts on my idea. Instead of responding to that, Leonie offered a perspective that to me emphasized a collaborative, rather than transactional, orientation. Her response made all the difference. I realized I had come to her thinking about how to move forward on my idea, rather than how to engage with her about it, even though I value collaboration with her. I realized I had approached her with the assumption that she didn’t have time to engage, and that I often assume, without realizing it, a lack of availability in others for collaboration with me. Leonie’s graceful redirect opened my eyes to a blind spot that has kept me unnecessarily from the resource of others’ willingness. Though I know it will take a certain mindfulness on my part to keep that veil from falling back, the relief and expansiveness I feel has already impacted my engagement in local racial justice and community singing work.

ElizaBeth Simpson is the Resource Coordinator at BayNVC. She can be reached via email at ezb@baynvc.org.

March 2019

I feel immense joy, gratitude, and awe working with such a collaborative team of compassionate, inspiring and supportive people. One of the things I value and appreciate most about working with the BayNVC team is that I am invited and encouraged to be my whole self at work.All of our meetings (whether one on one, small groups or the full team) begin with check-ins where we have space to share how we are doing emotionally, mentally and physically.

At BayNVC, authenticity is celebrated, vulnerability is held with great tenderness, empathy is always available, honoring individual capacity with compassion is the norm, support is routinely offered, self-care is constantly encouraged, and trust is the foundation of our team culture – dramatically different from typical workplaces!

Rather than detracting from the flow of work, I believe this wholehearted, whole person approach contributes to the flow and overall productivity. It helps us honor where each person is at with their capacity and organically adjust as a team. Showing up and sharing in this way contributes to a deep sense of companionship, connection and co-holding that is incredibly nourishing and replenishes energy; energy that can be used to do our work more efficiently. What a relief from putting on a “professional appearance” and hiding our authentic experiences, which drains energy and isolates us.

Heather and Leonie at Art of Facilitation Retreat 2017

In this environment of care and compassion, I am inspired to joyfully contribute to the maximum of my capacity with wholehearted willingness and with my whole self; something I previously experienced only outside of work.

Sadly, these last few months have been the most challenging of my life, largely due to the loss of several loved ones. During this time, my team members have helped me mourn, not only the loss of my loved ones but also the gap between my enormous desire to contribute to the team and my reduced capacity to do so.

I have been generously encouraged to work within my limits and to let others temporarily take on some of my tasks when self-care and family needs are critical. How incredibly different this is from the usual attitude of a ‘workplace’ — where maximum productivity is valued typically without considering the cost to the people doing the work.

When a team member is feeling overwhelmed, we look for ways we can shift work, ways we can support and care for one another, and ways we can do our best work collaboratively within our collective capacity. It is our authenticity, and often our vulnerability, that allows for this natural flow of interdependence and creates a sense of ongoing abundance within our team.

I want to share and celebrate that everything I described above perfectly matches my experience working with the Nonviolent Global Liberation Community (NGL) as well. I treasure the friendships I’ve made within both communities and I’m looking forward to deepening those connections, as well as making new ones, at the NGL-CA Retreat in August.

If you are interested in experiencing what I’ve described here, I hope you’ll join us at one of our upcoming retreats. (NGL Poland is coming up in May!)

With love and immense gratitude for being part of the BayNVC and NGL Communities….and this abundant flow of trust and generosity,

Heather

Heather Austin is the Event Coordinator at BayNVC and welcomes connection with the community. She can be reached via email at heather@baynvc.org.

January 2019

“I want to be more kind and loving to my parents”. Almost a year ago to this date, I read this resolution to a dear friend. The holiday visit to my parents’ home a few weeks prior fluctuated between explosions of anger and joyful togetherness. This was common for my family, and it became poignant when I realized that my parents were undeniably aging. While I genuinely wanted to cultivate better relationships with them, my resolution became my command.

Stephanie and her father playing music at her mother’s funeral. Photo by Richard D. Iyall, Cowlitz on Flickr. 

My mom unexpectedly died two weeks later. Our relationship drastically improved the last five years of her life, but I regretted some of the ways we interacted during our last holiday season together. I turned to my surviving parent with desperate urgency to be kind and loving with him. It quickly became clear that commanding myself towards kindness and love was like sitting on the couch while staring down a gym membership card to get fit. My empathy and care muscles atrophied, and I repeatedly injured myself carrying unrealistic expectations for our relationship.

During this time, I was a candidate for a job with BayNVC. I read through the core commitments on the website, and was instantly inspired by their gracious understanding and encouragement towards more capacity and resilience. I met Miki for an “interview” three weeks after my mom died. Our main topics of discussion were vulnerability and grief. Within minutes of meeting me, Miki generously co-held the most traumatic experience of my life.

I quickly found that my experience with Miki was not an anomaly. The core commitments vibrate throughout the BayNVC team. Leonie’s prioritization of relationships through open dialogue, empathy, and conflict resolution immensely benefits our community. Beth kindly invites me to assume innocence when I find myself triggered. Rebecca embodies the breathtaking dance of authenticity and vulnerability, which emboldens me to move to a similar rhythm. Dawn consistently honors caring for her life and interdependence, reminding me that they are not mutually exclusive. All of these women offered their empathic presence to me last year, tenderly holding me through my grief and the difficult “first” milestones without my mom. As I heal, I’m experiencing more clarity and strength. I have greater capacity to give what I can offer thanks to the love and support of the BayNVC team and community.

As the one year anniversary of my mom’s death approaches, I am happily reflecting on the recent holiday season with my dad. Even in the midst of some challenging moments with him, I noticed myself consistently walking the walk while talking the talk of nonviolence. The command for kindness and love shifted to a devotion to love no matter what. This is inseparable from the BayNVC team’s dedication to live the core commitments from the inside out. As Miki says, living in integrity is demanding, and incredibly life giving. With this community, I am celebrating the New Year with an appreciable diminuendo of commands as life-enriching relationships crescendo.

With authenticity and vulnerability,

Steph

Stephanie Smith is the Administrator at BayNVC. She welcomes connection from the NVC community. You can email her at stephanie@baynvc.org.