When I was 22 years old, I sat on the dock at the Fresh Creek Marina on Andros Island, Bahamas, looked up to the night sky and watched a shooting star fall across the horizon.
In that moment, I knew that one day I would adopt a child. I said a prayer and let it go.
In September of 2019, James Harley Wieck came into this world and right into my arms. His black skin to my white skin, his precious newborn heart to my longing heart… I looked into his eyes and knew that he was my son and I was his mother.
God had heard my nearly twenty year old prayer and moved heaven and earth to bring him into my arms and into our home.
My husband and I took classes to prepare for the adoption. We read books, we connected with other families who had been through similar situations. We knew that an interracial adoption would challenge our beliefs, open our eyes, and give us a new perspective on life.
I understood on a surface level that there would be difficult conversations, awkward looks from strangers, inappropriate comments from loved ones and people who have no right to say anything.
But if I’m really honest, I thought that we would learn as James grew and ease into it.
I thought we had more time.
In May of 2020, the world watched in despair as George Floyd, another black man in a line of way too many black and brown skinned people, was killed at the hands of the police in broad daylight. The pain, sadness and anger the black community has been enduring for generations burst through mainstream media on a level that was frankly long overdue.
The world erupted in protest.
My Instagram newsfeed went from quote cards on positivity to articles, images, and black boxes that showed me how incredibly naive I had been. I watched videos of parents teaching their FOUR year old black children what to do if they were stopped by the police. I easily saw James’ sweet, innocent face on that screen and bawled.
I have not watched the video of George Floyd’s murder. A black man calling out for his mother was no longer out of bounds for my reality. I no longer had the privilege to feel my heart break over the tragic loss of another marginalized person and then go back into my day and put it to the side.
All the time I thought I had, came crashing down. This was real. This is my life. This was NOW.
Fuck.
I had nightmares of James getting pulled over when he was older. I worried constantly about how some people in this world might see his beautiful ebony skin as a threat. I feared for his safety and wanted nothing more than to hold him tighter and tighter to protect him from a world that was in need of healing.
Between the fears was the realization that what I was experiencing was nothing compared to what the Black community has been experiencing for generations.
Before I continue, I want to speak to every Black, Indigenous, Person Of Color reading this article. I know that my white privilege is oozing out through these words. My experience this past year is nothing compared to generations of pain and struggle you, your families, your communities, and your ancestors have endured.
I am sorry that my ignorance and negligence perpetuated a system rooted in white supremacy… a system that I have benefitted from in so many areas of my life. I am nowhere close to getting this right and I am aware that there is so much within these pages that I can improve upon. Please hold me accountable. I am committed to doing my work and continuing to peel back the layers of my bias.
In the midst of all of this, a coach friend of mine, who seemed to be oblivious to current world affairs, posted a beautifully branded quote card on Instagram that said:
Freedom is the power to choose.
If it had been a week prior, it would have blended into all the other mindset quotes that line up in my newsfeed because the AI algorithm has obviously put me in the ‘personal growth addict’ category. I probably would have tapped my finger twice to give it a little heart and gone on with my day.
But on this day in this moment, I paused.
Something felt off about the sentiment. It felt gross. It felt dismissive to all the other posts on my newsfeed that literally showed how a man’s freedom and life was stripped (ripped?) from him because of the color of his skin. Where was his choice?
Where was his freedom?
Then I thought about other common phrases the coaching industry likes to toss around when it comes to the idea of ‘Freedom’.
“Freedom is a mindset,” and “Freedom is a feeling” are common sentiments that, if I’m really being honest, I have said myself.
And while there is definitely some truth to these statements, I wonder about people who have never had the privilege of choice in their life or people who have never fully felt safe within their own skin and therefore don’t have the luxury to feel free within themselves.
There is a ‘toxic positivity’ to the freedom that is often spewed throughout the coaching industry that is combined with a ‘don’t talk about race’ unspoken rule. But if we are truly in this line of work to help people live their best lives, we are doing a disservice to all of us if we don’t start talking about the real issues that affect all of us — including inequality and racism.
Culturally, we are taught that freedom is achieved. And you achieve that freedom through rugged individualism so that you can gain your independence.
If you’ve achieved a level of freedom, chances are, it’s not enough and so the endless search never ceases. If you haven’t achieved it, you’re told that you haven’t worked hard enough.
WTF?!
Keep in mind that to ‘achieve’ something means to rise above it. To be supreme over something or someone. When you operate from this definition of freedom, what you may not consciously realize is that for you to ‘rise above’ means that someone, or something, has to fall below. Your need to be superior or above perpetuates a reality for those who have been pushed down in the process.
And don’t get me started on all the materialistic ‘freedom’ that gets thrown in our faces on social media…
I took a deep breath and centered back into my body.
You know those moments in life when your entire perspective changes? When you see something so clearly, you can’t go and unsee it?
That’s what was happening.
The lens I had seen my life through got so clear. I started to think about choices I had been afforded in my life, not because of freedom, but because of my privilege. There are so many things in my day-to-day life that are easier because I am a white woman.
As the list grew longer in my mind, a sweet coo came through the monitor. James was waking up from his nap.
The afternoon light peeked through the edges of his curtains, softly dancing on the edge of his crib. Now fully awake, I walked towards the edge of the crib to see his big, brown eyes staring right at me. A smile widened across his face. He was happy to see me.
He reached out his arms to meet mine and I scooped him up. His little body melted into my embrace while he gently placed his head on my shoulder.
Present.
Surrendered.
Held.
Whole.
Tears started rolling down my face as I realized that, in that moment, he embodied the freedom the world longed for.
I’ve been a coach since 2008 and nearly every single client I have worked with has desired the same thing — Freedom.
Freedom from stress.
Freedom from pain.
Financial freedom.
Time freedom.
Emotional freedom.
Freedom to be who they are.
Our souls desire freedom. Every single one of us!
Our souls desire freedom.
Every single one of us!
So we go off on this journey to find our freedom and we unintentionally get caught up in these fucked up ideals around freedom — individualism, achievement, money, materialism, winning.
It’s time we stop treading water and get honest. We’re swirling on a quest for individualized freedom that is literally destroying our lives, communities, and the planet!
What if the freedom we all seek can only be achieved TOGETHER?
When it comes to redefining freedom, I have more questions than I have answers. But this is a conversation I think we all need to start having.
What does freedom mean? How do we honor our soul’s desire for freedom while honoring each other?
What would freedom that is rooted in connection look like and feel like?
It is January, 2021. If you are reading this, you just lived through the most challenging year of our lifetime. I believe 2020 was here to WAKE US UP. To show us that our toxic desire for ‘freedom,’ the one based in achievement individuality is actually the source of our pain.
It is time for our definition of ‘freedom’ to change.
What if the freedom that calls all of us can only be experienced, felt, and embodied when every BODY is free?
What if true freedom is a collective freedom?
That is a world I would love to see. If not for me, then for my son.
