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Quote by Robin DiAngelo

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White Fragility: Why It's So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism

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Robin DiAngelo

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“Meetings constitute the charm of travelling. Who does not know the joy of coming, five hundred leagues from one's native land, upon a Parisian, a college friend, or a neighbour in the country? Who has not spent a night, unable to sleep, in the little jingling stage-coach of countries where steam is still unknown, beside a strange young woman, half seen by the gleam of the lantern when she clambered into the carriage at the door of a white house in a little town?”

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“It is said that 70,000 veils separate the human being from Perfect Freedom. These veils are not evil, below us or filthy. They are complexes that need to be dissolved, beliefs that need changing and doorways to existential core issues. God has said, 'There are seventy thousand veils between you and Me, but there are no veils between Me and you.' This is why we so greatly stress the importance of the Murid involving him or her self in some kind of psychological and body work.”

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“If you had actually screwed me it would have wrecked everything. It would have convinced me that you were only interested in pleasure with my animal body and that you didn't really care about the part that was a person. It would have meant that you were using me like a woman when I really wasn't one and needed a lot of help to grow into one. It would have meant you could only see my body and couldn't see the real me which was still a little girl. The real me would have been up on the ceiling watching you do things with my body. You would have seemed content to let the real me die. When you feed a girl, you make her feel that both her body and her self are wanted. This helps her get joined together. When you screw her she can feel that her body is separate and dead. People can screw dead bodies, but they never feed them.”

Joan
Author:R.D. Laing
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“My Joan was at the window staring out in curious wonder. Then jumped and turned to me when came a great crash of thunder. Somewhat startled, she laughed out. I laughed a little too. "Awful. Just awful," she said, turning again to view. I stood up from where I sat. It was then I felt a fright. I walked over to my Joan. I knew something wasn't right. I had never seen her before behaving in such a manner. She seemed nervous, puzzled, unsure of something I'd yet to discover. I wrapped my arms around her chest. Then asked her if she was okay. "I'm fine," she said. "Just fine. It's just most storms don't look this way. " I looked out the window and then saw what was wrong. Before us there were clouds that just did not belong. Thick and black, very angry looking clouds. Like nothing I'd ever seen. That seemed to push and shove one another to make themselves more mean. The storm had very quickly taken form. Its wrath soon to unfold. It blocked out the light and replaced the warm with an eerie damp cold. It was as if this beast were alive. Both destructive and enormous. And as it let down its winding tails I knew soon it would be on us. Still I held her even closer and told her it would be fine. Though in my mind was thinking along a different line. The wind outside was now howling. I knew the worst was near. Then came the fearsome growling. And all at once, it's here!”

Calvin W AllisonJoan
Book:Joan
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