Transcriber: Leonardo Silva
Reviewer: David DeRuwe You can ask anyone you want, and they will tell you that they are sick and tired
of fighting for justice. People of color and members
of the LGBT community are tired of carrying the burden
of speaking up and stepping up even when they're being silenced
and pushed back down. And white allies
and cis allies are tired too: tired of being told they're doing it wrong or that it isn't even their place
to show up at all. This fatigue is impacting all of us. And in fact, I believe we won't succeed
until we approach justice in a new way. I grew up in the middle
of the civil rights movement, in the segregated South. As a five-year-old girl,
I was very interested in ballet. It seemed to be the five-year-old-girl
thing to do in the 1960s. My mother took me to a ballet school, the kind of school that had teachers
that talked about your gifts and talents, knowing that you'd never be a ballerina. (Laughter) When we arrived, they said nicely
that they did not accept Negroes. We got back in the car as if we were
just leaving a grocery store that was out of orange juice. We said nothing - just drove to the next ballet school. They said, "We don't accept Negroes." Well, I was confused, and I asked my mother
why they didn't want me. And she said, "Well, they're just not smart enough
to accept you right now, and they don't know
how excellent you are." (Applause) Well, I didn't know what that meant. (Laughter) But I was sure it wasn't good, because I could see it
in my mother's eyes. She was angry, and it looked like
she was on the verge of tears. Well, I decided right then and right there
that ballet was dumb. (Laughter) You know, I had lots of experiences
like that along the way, but as I got older,
I started to get angry, and not just angry
at the outright racism and injustice. I was angry at people that stood by
and didn't say anything. Like, why didn't the white parents
in that ballet school say, "Uh, that's wrong,
let that little girl dance"? (Applause) Or why didn't the white patrons
in the segregated restaurant say, "Hey, that's not right,
let that family eat"? Well, it didn't take me long to realize that racial injustice
wasn't the only place that people in the majority
were staying quiet. When I'd sit in church and hear some homophobic comment
being disguised as something scriptural, I'd say, "I'm sorry, why aren't the heterosexual churchgoers
disrupting this nonsense?" (Audience) Right. (Applause) Or, in a room filled
with boomers and Gen Xers who started degrading
their millennial colleagues as being spoiled, lazy and overconfident, I'd say, "I'm sorry, why isn't someone my age
saying, 'Stop stereotyping'?" (Audience) Yes. (Applause) I was used to standing up
on issues like this, but why wasn't everyone else? My fifth grade teacher, Mrs. McFarlane, taught me that justice
requires an accomplice. Not just anyone will do. She said we need unlikely allies
if we want to see real change happen. And for those of us
experiencing injustice up front, we need to be willing to accept the help because, when we don't,
change takes too long. I mean, think about
founding father John Adams and, if he had not talked
to Abigail Adams in 1776 when she pled with him
"to remember the ladies and to be more favorable to them
than your ancestors were," we might not have gotten
to the women's movement when we did. Or imagine if heterosexual and gay people
had not come together under the banner of marriage equality. Or what if President Kennedy just wasn't interested
in the civil rights movement? Most of our major movements
in this country might have been delayed or even dead if it weren't for the presence
of unlikely allies. When the same people speak up
in the same ways they've always spoken up, the most we'll ever get
are the same results, over and over again. You know, allies
often stand on the sidelines, waiting to be called up, but what if unlikely allies
led out in front of issues? Like, what if black and Native American people
stood in front of immigration issues? (Applause) Or what if white people
led the charge to end racism? (Cheering) (Applause) Or what if men led the charge
on pay equity for women? (Cheering) (Applause) Or what if heterosexual people
stood in front of LGBTQ issues? (Applause) And what if able-bodied people advocated
for people living with disabilities? (Audience) All right! (Applause) You know, we can stand up for issues,
weigh in and advocate even when it seems like the issue
has nothing to do with us. And actually, those are the issues
that are most compelling. And sure, people will have no idea
why you are there, but that's why those of us
facing injustice must be willing to accept the help. You know, we have to fight injustice
with a consciousness of grace. When white guys stand up to fight for the liberation
of black and brown people, black and brown people will have
to be willing to accept their help. And I know that's complicated,
but this is collective work, and it requires everyone to be all in. One day when I was at kindergarten, our teacher introduced us
to this beautiful, tall white lady named Miss Anne. I thought she was the prettiest
white lady I'd ever seen. If I can be honest with you,
I think it was the first time we'd ever seen a white lady
in our school, ever. (Laughter) Miss Anne stood in front of us, and she said she was going to start
teaching ballet classes right there at our school, and that she was proud
to be our dance teacher. It was unreal. All of a sudden, I didn't think ballet was dumb anymore ... (Laughter) You see, what I know now
is Miss Anne was fully aware that the white ballet schools
would not accept black girls. She was incensed by that. So she came to the black neighborhood to start teaching
the dance classes herself. And you know, it took love
and courage for her to do that. (Applause) And where there was no justice,
she just built it. We all survived because we stood on the shoulders
of our black ancestors. We all thrived because Miss Anne was an unlikely ally. You know, when you add
your voice and your actions to situations that
you don't think involve you, you actually inspire others
to do the same. Miss Anne inspired me
to always be on the lookout for situations that weren't about me, but where I saw injustice
and inequality happening anyway. I hope she inspires you too, because, to win the fight for equity, we will all need to speak up and stand up, and we will all need to do that
even when it's hard and even when we feel out of place. Because it is your place, and it is our place. Justice counts on all of us. Thank you. (Applause) (Cheering)
