This moment is heavy and scary and painful, but let’s be honest — we’ve been in this moment for years, decades, centuries. The various ways that the horrendous systemic and historical oppression has played out along racial lines has been carried in our bodies and souls for ages and ages. 

In this present moment, what do I — or what does Indigo have to add to this current conversation? I’ve been struggling with this question for the past week. To be honest and totally transparent (which is central to Indigo’s philosophy about leadership and vulnerability in racial transformation), my feelings in this present moment mirror those of many of my sisters and brothers across the country. I’m tired and scared and I’m truly struggling to hold on the hopefulness I preach in many of the messages I deliver around the country. I don’t want to show my outward face to anyone right now. I want to nap; I want to heal; I want to return to center; I want to love my family and keep them safe; I want to indulge in self-compassion so that I don’t lose my way in the darkness of this moment. 

In this moment — as the mother of a beautiful, dark brown, quirky, 9 year-old boy with disabilities — I am at once ‘mama bear’ and also struggling to breathe. My son just turned 9 last week, and every day he gets older and bigger, he is perceived more and more as a threat and a menace. For those of you who know my son and see him spontaneously give me hugs and kisses while I’m on my Zoom calls with all of you, thinking that others will see him as dangerous and as a predator feels unimaginable. My work (Indigo’s work) to help create a world that is safe for him takes on more and more urgency.

In this moment — there are protests and proclamations and hourly emails, texts and prayers from well-meaning friends and colleagues. I’m touched and can feel your love, but I’m also scared for the moments that come next. I wonder, what will we do beyond this moment? For those allies and co-conspirators who are standing with us (e.g., African Americans collectively) and for those who are specifically standing with me and my family — I ask you: what can you do and be(come) beyond this moment?

In the next moment(s) — we can:

~ continue to heal (pray, meditate, love, do art, journal, be still)

~ learn, explore, and unearth for ourselves the many ways racism shows up in our bodies

~ re-learn our history to understand why the f*** do we keep landing here in this moment – why have our systems and psyches not evolved more?

~ contribute time, energy, money to causes that exist to dismantle our racist systems.

Of course, there are many more ways we can continue to bring this moment into the next, but this is all my tired, muddled, scared brain can offer right now. I offer this in the spirit of love and our common humanity. By no means is my interest in the moments that come next meant to diminish the powerful forces of change we all feel in our country in this present moment. In the words of the artist, Corita Kent, “we need to embrace the moment [in whatever way that is meaningful to you], and the energy of that moment will spread beyond all boundaries [including time and space].” My sincerest prayer is that this moment will not be lost.

~In love and light, Eva