What does it take to repair?

The difficult but rewarding work of relational reparations

Two weeks ago I was honored to join about one hundred practitioners in New Orleans to explore the emerging field of “relational reparations.” It was an essential place to land post-election: a gathering led by and centering Black women, explicitly embracing indigenous principles, and trying to hold concurrently the urgent need for material reparations alongside the equally important work of relational repair and reconciliation.

The U.S. election underscored what has long been clear: we are living in a moment that requires the fundamental transformation of our systems. We remain deeply divided and deeply disillusioned: if we are to have any hope of charting a new course, we simply must do things differently. When dominant culture is so manifestly inadequate to the task, it is increasingly important to look to the margins to find glimmers of brighter futures. bell hooks calls the margins:

A site of radical possibility… It offers to one the possibility of radical perspective from which to see and create, to imagine alternatives, new worlds.

This was the purpose as I understood it of the Gathering by the River: an opportunity to gather with kindred spirits to ground in radical possibility. I want to share some reflections here about what transformation requires, what repair asks of us, and what we can learn from efforts to gather differently.

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Convening the system… to transform it

Readers of this newsletter will know I am deeply interested in the question of how to transform systems, and for years have been exploring the transformative potential of “systems convening.” The premise is to try to convene the entire system in a room: a fractal of the whole.

The “Gathering by the River” was the brainchild of June Wilson as she stewards the final spend-down of the Compton Foundation, and a beautiful collaborative effort by a group of people for whom I have deep respect: including friends CC Gardner-Gleser, Caitlin Brune, and Hanni Hanson, as well as an all-star organizing team of staff and fellows (shout-out to Monica, Audrey, Bryan, Shelley, and everyone else who made it possible).

In this case, June and team were interested in convening the “reparations” system, which they conceptualized as follows:

They centered the gathering in one part of the system… the oft-neglected aspect of relational repair. They explain the why of “relational reparations”:

We are referring to work where material and institutional reparations intersect with interpersonal healing and transformation. We believe that when we do justice work that bypasses human relationships, we haven’t really confronted how supremacy operates within all of us and any attempts toward true healing will remain incomplete.

They did a beautiful job getting the system in the room: I encountered people in all the spaces named above.

I felt so grateful to be among people who hold no illusions about America, and who nonetheless are working toward liberation with conviction and care. The organizers described the purpose of the gathering as follows:

To explore the ecosystem of relational repair in the context of settler colonialism and slavery in the United States. We gather here to support the practices of relational repair and connect the practitioners doing this work.

Convening the right people is the necessary first step. But then comes the work of how to hold transformative space: how to create the enabling conditions to make transformation possible.

The importance of creating the container/vibe

The Compton team did a beautiful job setting the stage, both through three pre-convening Zoom sessions, and through two days of pre-convening activities on the ground in New Orleans. The Zoom sessions set the tone: they created an opportunity for the participants to connect with each other, for June and team to model collaborative leadership, and to invite us into different ways of being/relating. Specifically, each session included a 30 min practice that signaled clearly to the participants: we are trying to do something different here. This is a space for transformation.

Shana Nunnelly offered a sound bath. Ariana Felix hosted a workshop on worldbuilding and imagination. Francina Kahl hosted a tea ceremony. I attended the first and third, and they were exquisite. In each case I experienced Black women offering their unique gifts: what I felt very clearly as a deep vocation where I, We, and World intersect. I also experienced the radical power of being held… and witnessed how transformative that felt for many of the Black women on the calls in particular. These are people on the front lines of social justice movements, often holding incredible space and entire communities… to have loving and tender space held for them felt beautiful to behold.

Celebrating Black women

My favorite aspect of the convening was the gift of experiencing such a diverse range of Black excellence. The choice of New Orleans was deliberate in that context. As an exhibit at the African American Museum of Art, History, and Culture noted:

From Everywhere We Are, Everywhere We Go, exhibition at NOAAM

More than that: the convening itself showcased the specific gifts of Black women working toward liberation. The most powerful moment of the entire convening for me was the invocation / welcome from June herself, which felt to me like a simultaneously inspiring and cautionary tale about the role of Black women in America.

Her tenacity and vision made this convening possible… and frankly, it’s hard for me to imagine anyone other than a Black woman of her stature being able to pull it off. And yet: the act of holding it all together—through yet another traumatizing election—stole her health. Battling bronchitis, she had to step away for two days from the convening she had poured her heart and soul into… and her body as well.

This is the cruel truth of our country: our path toward liberation has long been led by Black women… and they can’t do it alone. It’s too much. As the exit polls illustrate: Black women are doing their part.

From NBC exit polls in 10 key states; source here

It’s on the rest of us to step up if we want to get out of this mess. As June pleaded: it is time for us to “carry the water.”

Men are missing in action

This is the unfortunate counterpoint. In a group of over 100 practitioners, only ten were men (and only three of us were White). It is to the great credit of women—and women of color in particular, as the voting patterns make clear—that they are leading the path toward liberation. And it is a disaster for our movements and our hopes of liberation that more men are not doing the work alongside them.

It is time for us to treat this situation as the emergency that it is. Men are uniquely ill-suited for this moment in history, because we have been socialized and conditioned into the very patterns and behaviors that have brought us to the brink: domination, competition, disconnection, alienation. I’ve written extensively about this and won’t rehash it here except to note: if we take this problem seriously, it requires a systemic response. I’m not talking here about MAGA men or those fueling rising authoritarianism (though I am also concerned with them); I’m talking about our brothers, husbands, lovers, fathers, sons, and friends who are missing in movements for justice.

My consistent experience in movement work has been that—even in spaces curated for diversity and seeking gender balance—we only get 10-25% participation from men. I have now actively curated 8-10 cohorts through my work in Building Belonging, and consistently the biggest struggle is finding men ready to step into liberatory work. And those that do show up are a rare breed: the men I connected with in New Orleans were universally deeply tender-hearted souls, very far from the mainstream norms governing masculinity in America.

And while White men remain the biggest problem, it’s important to note that this isn’t just or even primarily a problem of Whiteness (a majority of Latino men voted for Trump) and it’s worth understanding why. There are profound implications for what we must do to respond, but suffice to say for now: it is time to treat men missing in liberatory action as the crisis that it is.

Repair is radical

I felt the same thing I always feel entering these types of spaces. First, a profound sense of relief and relaxation: ahh, I am among my people. I belong: I can let my guard down, let go of my tendency toward hypervigilance. Second, I see reflected in the eyes of “my people”—who very much do not look like me—a question. Sometimes curious, sometimes skeptical, occasionally hostile: what are you doing here? A sense of non-belonging.

I understand; I feel the same thing when I encounter White men, even in spaces devoted to justice. It’s a reminder of how far we have to go, and how difficult this work is. Of course Black women in America are skeptical of White men. Of course they are guarded. We have so little experience with deep authentic multiracial relationships.

In my cloistered upbringing in overwhelmingly White southern Oregon, I didn’t have a meaningful relationship with a Black woman until my first year of college on the east coast, at age 18. One woman I connected with at the convening told me that she had no meaningful relationships with White people at all until she was 28. We still lead profoundly segregated lives… even when we move through multiracial space.

The convening showcased several “relational repair” cohorts: White women with wealth partnering with Black women to practice wealth return (reparations) in the context of relationships (repair). The key takeaway for me: this work is really hard.

And: it’s incredibly liberatory! I was touched by the honesty and the grappling; I particularly enjoyed witnessing the relationship between Francina Kahl (a Black woman) and her friend/colleague Jackie Gow (a White woman). They talk about their experience on their podcast; this episode in particular really resonated: is racial repair possible? The answer: yes… but it asks a lot of us. As friend and teammate Kazu Haga reminded us yesterday: in the entirety of human history, we’ve never had to connect/repair across as many dimensions of difference/harm as we do today.

Repair is a radical act.

We are desperate for reconnection

This is what gives me hope. In my many conversations over the course of the week, I consistently encountered openness, vulnerability, curiosity. Connection. The question is genuine: they want to know why I am there. What brought me to this work? And I want to know about them: what keeps you going? Two of the convening emcees—Felicia Ishino and Sharon Chism from Sankofa Impact—introduced a refrain from Zulu culture in southern Africa that we were invited to share with each other.

Sawubona: I see you. I honor your dignity and worth. I am because you are.

Shiboka: It is good to be seen.

And honestly: it feels really good to be seen. And to give the gift of seeing someone. It’s a universal need, and one we are desperate for.

I actually find it really hopeful that our culture is so hungry for those examples of connection across difference. It’s why we love those movies that show racial repair (though most of the ones White culture celebrates can be rightly critiqued for white saviorism). But lurking in the problematic portrayal is a deep longing: for reconnection. For belonging. My favorite example in recent years was the Grammys duet featuring Tracy Chapman, elder Black icon, joined by Luke Combs: a young White man making his name in country music. A deeply unlikely pairing… and an utter joy to witness:

I love everything about it. But what I like most: it offers White men another way to be in relationship with Black women. Luke shows up with deep respect: not trying to lead, nor trying to follow, but simply accompanying. Joining. Connecting in right relationship, a relationship that honors her leadership, her gifts… and brings his own to deepen and enhance the experience.

This I think is the invitation June was getting at, and the invitation we (well, I’ll speak for myself) are longing for. To join, to be part of, to contribute… to belong. And it is my deep felt sense that so many of us are hungry for it. I think people are willing to work for it, too. I know I am. But we really need to believe—and to see—that it’s possible.

The art and beauty of repairing the ruptures

The convening felt like an apt invitation to reflection and introspection as the year draws to a close. Back in January when I set my intentions for the year, I chose an overarching theme: Repairing the Ruptures. So it felt like a gift to have an opportunity to gather in community with others committed to that work, clear-eyed about how difficult it is.

I’ve always been deeply interested in repair, in what it takes to return to connection. Perhaps it’s the middle-child in me, or the empath/rescuer who deeply sees the humanity and wounding in others and wants to alleviate it. Growing up I didn’t learn many practical skills in the art of relational repair: it was not something I saw modeled, in my family or in the world. I saw clearly that we were broken, and it felt so weird to me that society didn’t seem to acknowledge what felt so obvious. I love this inflection point in Ted Lasso, because he at least names the truth:

Except he’s not quite right. It’s not that we need to change: it’s that we need to repair. Change isn’t the antidote to brokenness; repair is.

Increasingly I’ve found myself drawn to this conclusion: repair is everything. Rupture is inevitable… but if we can find our way back to relationship, anything is possible. If we understand the original wound of all systems of oppression as separation… the antidote is reconnection. Not the faux unity that papers over harm, but an honest reckoning that seeks to make amends, to repair the violation.

I actually think relationships are stronger on the other side of repair: it’s the felt sense that we can do hard things, that we care enough to make the effort. I’m reminded here of the Japanese concept/art of kintsugi: the process of repairing a broken dish by lacquering the cracks with gold… rendering the original even more beautiful after the repair.

image source

I actually prefer the term kintsukuroi, which translates to “golden repair.” Yes… that to me carries the connotation I’m seeking, of something so attractive that it’s worth confronting the difficulty and vulnerability of seeking amends. It also reminds us that repair is an art, a craft to be cultivated in pursuit of beauty and connection.

What are we willing to risk… in order to repair?

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I want to close with deep gratitude to June and the team for all the heartfelt work they put into hosting the convening, and for the gift of their invitation to join. And to everyone I encountered there, for the deep gifts of their work in the world, and the inspiration of their commitment to liberation.

I remain committed to repairing the ruptures in myself, in my relationships, and in the world. And I am feeling a powerful call post-election and post-convening to better-embody that invitation, to try to illustrate in a more compelling way the fruits of liberation. I fear sometimes that people see in me the struggle… but don’t see the reward. They see the work, but don’t see the joy. I want to do a better job sharing what it feels like to be moving toward liberation.

I will leave it here for now. Much to reflect on as I prepare for the second gathering of Belonging @ Scale, rapidly approaching in January in Borikén (the indigenous name for Puerto Rico). A chance to be with my people, to practice building belonging together, and to move toward liberation.

In community,

Brian