81 Quotes by Austin Channing Brown

It's so easy to believe the pretty pictures on the website filled with racial diversity, to buy in to the well-crafted statements of purpose, to enjoy being invited into the process of "being part of the change." The role of a bridge builder sounds appealing until it becomes clear how often that bridge is your broken back.

White people are notorious for trying to turn race conversations into debates, and then becoming angry or dismissive when people of color won't participate. White people believe this is because people of color haven't thought it through or are stumped by a well-made point. But the truth is, oftentimes people of color don't have the time, energy, or willpower to teach the white person enough to turn the conversation into a real debate. To do so would be a ton of work.

Tiffany was my bridge to understanding that Black is beautiful whether it looked nerdy like me or cool like her. I could choose what felt right for me without needing to be like everyone, or needing to everyone to be like me. Black is not monolithic. Black is expansive, and I didn't need the approval of whiteness in order to feel good in my skin; there was no whiteness available to offer an opinion. It was freedom.

For the most past, we all existed in harmony, but there were a few key moments in which I learned that harmony - the absence of outright conflict - often leaves deeper complications untouched.

They haven't educated themselves through books or courses. They are unfamiliar with the lexicon on race, not realizing their words have particular meanings. Their understanding of both America's racial history and current racial landscape is lacking. But this does not prevent them from being convinced of their rightness and need to reassert dominance.

Unsolicited confessions inspired by a sense of guilt are often poured over Black bodies in search of their own relief.

Togetherness across racial lines doesn’t have to mean the uplifting of whiteness and harming of Blackness. And even though the Church I love has been the oppressor as often as it has been the champion of the oppressed, I can’t let go of my belief in Church – in a universal body of belonging, in a community that reaches toward love in a world so often filled with hate.

Because I am a Black person, my anger is considered dangerous, explosive, and unwarranted. Because I am a woman, my anger supposedly reveals an emotional problem or gets dismissed as a temporary state that will go away once I choose to be rational. Because I am a Christian, my anger is dismissed as a character flaw, showing just how far I have turned from Jesus. Real Christians are nice, kind, forgiving – and anger is none of those things.

In my experience, white people who believe they are safe often prove dangerous when that identity is challenged.