Dana, 

I don’t know if this letter will ever reach you, but I didn’t know who else to write to. I need you, Dana, more than ever now. I have been stranded in the year 2020 for almost a year, and it’s truly been a journey of self-analysis and self-discovery. When I first arrived, the amount of people who argued back at me for treating them “poorly” or calling them what they now call “derogatory” terms was incredibly high...you did say you came from the future, Dana, so I guess the times really have changed, haven’t they? I’ll give that to you, Dana, it’s like I’m walking around in a society full of people like you. For once in my life, I’m the one out of place, but now I’m trying to see the world from your perspective and change my ways. 

Dana, before I say anything else in this letter, I just want to tell you that I am sorry – I’m sorry for my ignorance and my lack of respect toward you, despite your patient attempts to educate me. The last time we saw each other, you were about to stab me, before I somehow got whisked away to 2020. Looking back, I’m starting to understand what led you to that point: ever since I was little, you have been nothing but patient with me, adamantly demanding that I respect you and your wishes on how you would like to be addressed, and encouraging me to go down a different path by treating my slaves like actual human beings rather than property. I didn’t understand why I should have listened to your opinions then, because as I grew up, I regarded your voice as less and less valid, pushing away your steadfast attempts to make me better and instead, only temporarily listening to you to mask my actual selfish intentions. 

I want to tell you about what led me to want to improve myself, so maybe you would be willing to talk to me again after how I hurt you. When I first arrived in 2020, I was shocked at the diversity of California; there’s so many different communities and cultures that make up Los Angeles alone, and at first, I treated any person of color terribly, refusing to listen to their opinions or to call them by the names they wanted to be addressed by because I barely wanted to consider them as humans. But, as I have learned, despite the constant oppression facing people of color, the LGBTQ+ community (I had no idea this existed!), and women, in my months here I’ve seen so many protests and so much unending support for their fights – I keep seeing people from all these different communities and walks of life at marches selflessly lifting each other, even if they weren’t fighting for a cause that directly affected them. All of these experiences made me remember what you said to me the second time we met “I’m a Black woman, Rufe. If you have to call me something other than my name, that’s it...I helped you put out the fire, didn’t I?...Then do me the courtesy of calling me what I want to be called” (Butler, 31). I had no doubts that those same people fighting for their rights would have helped me if I needed it, despite the unfair privileges that the color of my skin and my gender represents in this society. At first, based on the concept of respect that you said to me, I thought the least I could do was to address them the way they wanted to be addressed, but I was still unchanged inside, only putting on a polite front. But then, as I spent more time around people of different backgrounds, I actually started to listen to their struggles and their experiences, and I began to pay more attention to the institutions in power, see what values have continued to be upheld since my time, and understand the impact those decisions still have on so many.

All these observations made me want to learn more about my privilege and systemic oppression on all fronts. One day, I bumped into a professor at a coffee shop, Professor Vicki Callahan, and she told me about the work her students had created and invited me to explore their Scalar page and Google Drive on something called the Interwebs...no, I think it’s called the Internet? Anyway, that single interaction made the biggest impact on me, helping to pull me out of my old habits, and leading me to write to you. I was reading through Annie’s Praxis #2 on Scalar, “Arts-ivism”. What caught my attention at first was how much I could relate to Abigail’s background. Abigail, like me, is white with a multitude of privileges in this society, yet she has dedicated herself to using that privilege and creating spaces for marginalized voices. Through this relatability, I was drawn into the nuances of her story, especially because seeing someone like me hold themselves so differently in the world made me question the choices I had made. Dana, as soon as I arrived here, I have been plagued with that memory of you hovering over me with a knife, ready to seal my fate, before I was whisked away to 2020. All these months, I couldn’t stop wondering what I had done to you to drive you to that point. I know you weren’t being unreasonable, so I have come to the conclusion that it must have been my fault, due to my infringement of your boundaries. As a result, I have constantly been trying to search for answers on how exactly to improve and to be more aware of how my actions impact others; through her project, I have been focusing on Annie’s guiding principles from bell hooks and Audre Lorde. They both emphasize that we need to embrace the differences that once alienated us from each other in order to practice loving and healing each other, with hooks writing that “when we are taught that safety lies always with sameness, then difference, of any kind, will appear as a threat. When we choose to love we choose to move against fear - against alienation and separation. The choice to love is a choice to connect – to find ourselves in the other” (93). I’ll be honest, I was shocked when I read that love can help solve many societal issues by bringing us together; I’m so accustomed to thinking that control and establishing dominance over others creates social harmony, so this was a difficult concept to wrap my head around. Dana, I still don’t understand how your world works or how it is possible for individuals with everything pitted against them to still worry about others’ well-being, to fight for their rights, and to love their neighbors without fail. How did the world evolve into this over the past two centuries? I still see the marks of my own society through systemic oppression, but there has been this rise of a love ethic against this dominant culture. Where did this resilience emerge from and how can they continue to be so resistant? There’s still so much I don’t understand and I am hoping that you’ll be willing to give me a second...er, well, maybe a seventh chance and to educate me on your society and your struggles. 

I was also reading about Afrofuturism and I actually watched Black Panther recently. A few months ago, I would’ve dismissed this depiction of African American struggles as a feeble attempt to gain sympathy and importance in the world, or thought that it only catered to Black people to provide them with daydreams that could never possibly come true. You know, Dana, I barely want to admit it, but I shed a few tears. That museum scene...seeing people like me – white, affluent museum curators – steal Wakandan culture and dismiss it, even deeming it irrelevant enough to forget its origins...that accurately represents how my ancestors and I viewed the Black people we kidnapped and enslaved from Africa and dismissed as less than human. It made me realize that we stripped them of their culture, their language, their beliefs, and we justified our violence against them for centuries as saving them from “savagery”. And their culture, it’s just beautiful, Dana. In the movie, all of those cultural influences for the costumes, the rituals, and the Wakandan language – I never realized that those traditions were not “savage”, instead they hold such rich meanings and history to their people. I’ve only been thinking about myself for my entire life, so I never even considered how I would feel if the roles were switched – how would I react if the traditions and culture I called home were suddenly taken from me and deemed as primitive and “savage, and how would I feel if my people have been constantly oppressed in a varying forms of slavery for the past few centuries? And yet, although the entire world looked down at Wakanda for being a supposed developing country, the Wakandans still extended their love to the rest of the world by sharing their resources for the greater good. It’s evident that there are some good people in society with kind and loving hearts, who persevere with their love ethic despite people like me attempting to beat them down. In the style of Afrofuturism, I’d like to dream that if society keeps creating works like Annie’s and Black Panther’s to imagine a more harmonious future, maybe those individuals with loving souls will turn those dreams into reality. And dare I say, maybe I can even be a part of that movement with more education. 

If people with so little are still willing to love those who are against their successes, then I should also be able to undertake the comparatively lesser task of considering how my actions affect others. Dana, I am putting aside my pride and admitting that I am a selfish, ruthless, and deceptive person who has caused unforgivable pain to so many, including you. I want to change, for real this time, and I believe that you are the best person to help me. I want to learn more about the marginalized voices in your society and about my privileges so that I can help them be heard, like Abigail. I understand if you still want to kill me, but please give me another chance – I want to listen to how I have hurt you so that I can be better. 

Respectfully yours,

Rufus

 

Works Cited

Butler, O. E. (2017). Kindred : A graphic novel adaptation. ProQuest Ebook Central https://ebookcentral.proquest.com

Hooks, B. (2018). All About Love: New Visions. New York: William Morrow, an imprint of HarperCollins.

Lorde, A. (1984). “ “The Master’s Tools Will Never Dismantle the Master’s House.” Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches. Berkeley, CA: Ten Speed Press.

Feige, K. (Producer), & Cooger, R. (Director). (2018). Black Panther [Motion picture]. United States: Marvel Studios.