Checking-In

With the tragedy of March 16 (you can read my statement about the Atlanta shootings here), I've had numerous friends check-in and also had some great conversations with friends and colleagues about how to check-in: check-in with friends, check-in with colleagues, check-in with neighbors, for solidarity, for support, etc. So here are some things I wanted to add:

Before I continue though, I want to thank my amazing friend Dr. Valerie Thompson (learn more about her here) because she is the one who pushed me to write this after we had talked about a piece she has coming out from NASPA, which I'll be posting here as soon as its live. Coming to you soon; check it out!

The other thing I want to caveat and note, is that ultimately, checking-in is about centering the person with whom you have a relationship: it is a signal of care and love. What that also means then, is if you know that your friend, colleague, neighbor does not want a check-in in the ways I am describing below, then don't, because that is not honoring or centering them. AND, for those who might appreciate a check-in, here are some things to note: 

1. Center them. In writing a text message and/or dropping an audio file, we can be tempted to process our own feelings: how shocked and horrified we are, how we can't imagine what they are feeling, how utterly horrible this is. These statements might signal that you understand, to some extent, the magnitude and pain, but can also easily turn into the comforter becoming the comforted. Now, before you know it, the response is about making sure you are okay or explaining how these events aren't... unfortunately as shocking as they should be, given the longer history of anti-Asian hate, racism, colonialism, and imperialism (see more here). 
   
   
2. Hold no expectation for a response— and I might even say, write that in the text. Grieving, healing, and everything in between look like so many different things. In this past week, I had days where I responded within minutes after each text message. Other days, entire days passed by because I just couldn't. For me, I felt comfort being reminded that I didn't need to respond and that people knew that perhaps, I couldn't. 
   
   
3. Offer, compared to asking. This third point is related to the second, but having a question embedded in the text, can at times be difficult. When people asked me what I needed, both over the past weekend and in past experiences of dealing with acute grief, I didn't and don't always know what to say. How do I know what I need? Instead, I've appreciated friends and colleagues offer suggestions like: "here if you want to talk, a meal, a funny gif," and so forth. And, if you don't know what to offer, you can always go along the lines of: "here in community and in whatever capacity you need" (but that also means you have to mean it, of course).

In all of these things, the bottom line is still about care and love. Reasons like feeling guilty of soothing one's conscience align closely with centering yourself (see point 1), not the friend or colleague or neighbor. And, as my last caveat: this is not a script or an end-all-be-all. These observations and suggestions are based on how to authentically care in ways that for me, have felt rooted in love. In sharing these, I hope you are able to hold your communities and yourselves in the ways you need.  Hope they resonate and if you have additional suggestions, please add in the comments.

In the tragedy that has been this week, which has encompassed the continued tragedies of the pandemic and manifestatations of anti-Blackness, I have been grateful for my communities and friends that see me, hold me, and love me early.