Trying to Understand Time Better: The Traps of White Dominant Culture
Notes on Unlearning Things from White Culture, for Black History Month
Just before my wedding, as I stood in the back of the chapel with my parents, my dad looked at his watch. Five minutes until the start time. “Well, should we get going?” he asked, gesturing toward the aisle.
His lifelong habit of being slightly early was kicking in.
I thought time mania was a family characteristic, instilled by my dad. My mother was the opposite, always trying to jam in one more thing and often late. For years, I was the same. I was the late friend. Now, I’ve over-corrected. I don’t mind waiting for you – that empty time at a coffee shop or lunch place is a gift. I once apologized to someone for being five minutes late, and he told me not to worry. “Life is not that precise.” It’s not? I was genuinely surprised – and thrilled.
I thought this attention to time was “normal,” until I started learning more about the characteristics of white supremacy, or white dominant culture. Hyper attention to time is part of the false feeling of urgency, a fake need to hurry, when things are not that urgent. (And most things are not.) It’s a way to judge and control people, based on an arbitrary value. I was acculturated to have a slight disdain for people who can’t be on time, as if timeliness was the highest value.
There are a thousand reasons someone might arrive after the stated start time. Unreliable transportation. A truly urgent need. Maybe they stopped to save a life. Or they’re giving a subtle reminder that power belongs to everyone in the room.
Friends from Nigeria and Cameroon have taken me aside over the years to counsel me about when to arrive at parties. Two hours late is frequent advice. It’s a delightfully different vision of time.
I know, I know. I can hear you now: we need time so we can start schools, and schedule operations, and do the same work in the same location. If you still have that kind of job. Yes, and…time is a tool, not a boss.
On my list of deep regrets: the conversation I had with a staff member about them getting to work on time. Now I wonder why I cared so much. The work was getting done. Why couldn’t I value the work more and the clock less?
At my wedding, I persuaded my dad that, just this once, we could arrive a few minutes after the start time. In real life, I’m trying to see time as more elastic and generous. Now when I arrive somewhere early, I smile and see it as a small homage to my dad. My attention to the clock can be my own little quirk, not a way to judge anyone else’s value.
Life is not that precise. Or, so I keep trying to learn.
Mary I love the reflections about time in your post and these comments. After growing up with my naval officer dad who insisted on "wheels in the well" departures for road trips at 5:15 am and many decades of time obsession, I am learning to loosen my grip on the need for promptness. A little. It helps when I notice people giving me grace about lateness. Stuart and I got stuck in a bad traffic jam on the way to a doctor's appointment with a specialist who's hard to get in to see. I called to say we were going to be 30 minutes late and asked if we needed to reschedule. The lovely person who answered the phone said: Oh no, we'll fit you in. Take your time and be safe." Such kindness.
I can’t remember if you were late or early on your special day but I remember a really fun time in Princeton with a group of wonderful people and a special bride ..( what year was that ? ) xo Time seems very different nowadays . I always seem to be rushing or behind . Life is chaotic . It took me 4 attempts to get out of the house last week for work . I forgot my keys , my water , rechecked the animals .. did i turn off my curling iron ? I thought well God thought I should be a little late this morning for some reason . I got in the car and turned up my music .. and I was still able to spend quality time with all of my patients .