It was 2005 or 2006, and I was at an conference called "Race Matters." I was in a small group - half white, half black - of peers from my college and neighboring schools.
We were discussing why we were there, and our backgrounds and experience with race coming in. And I said (minority friends, can you guess?):
I don't really have a problem with race so I'm not really sure why I'm here. I might have even thrown in an "I have black friends" for good measure ... blah blah blah (I don't remember the rest). Something sterilized and positive sounding.
And for the first time in my life, at 20-21 years old, the people around me didn't just smile and nod. Instead they gently pushed back against my statement and challenged me to look deeper.
I was offended. Angry even.
I was a "good" person. I did have minority friends - not just periphery, but very dear. I was intentional about learning about other cultures and appreciating them. My family didn't have a lot of (read: any) wealth, so clearly I couldn't be privileged. I didn't say overtly racist things and I didn't actively think white people were better than others. Besides, racism was over, right?
But I had never really thought about race, racism, and the experiences of others of a different race than my own. I had never asked my black or brown friends. And I observed cultures, but my listening skills were only beginning to develop. I had never considered the ways in which my culture and my race shaped my experience or my benefits. Privilege meant only one thing to me - money - and I didn't have it, so I didn't dig any deeper. If you had asked me what my culture was, I couldn't have given you an answer. And I had never been under the leadership of someone who wasn't white and didn't see a problem with that.
I was offended, but I stayed. I begrudgingly listened. And in listening, I *heard* little bits of other peoples stories. And even though I didn't fully think I needed to at that point, I committed to continue to learn and listen - a journey which I am still actively on.
That was 12 or 13 years ago.
In the years since then, I have bumbled through a lot of different experiences with race, racism, and culture. I've done it poorly many times. I've been apathetic and unengaged many more [that's one of my places of privileges, btw]. I'm guilty of being vague, safe, savior-esque, ignorant, and "holier than thou."
But I've also listened a lot. Been intentional with learning more about other people's experiences, and [
Because I am convinced that race does matter. That our cultures, our races, they matter deeply to the heart of the Christian God - and are beautiful to him for their reflections of different aspects of His heart. And pursuit of Him means pursuit of racial justice and reconciliation.
Because I am convinced that racism is alive and well in our country, within our infrastructure, our justice system, our culture and our hearts. Last weekend's events in #Charlottesville are nothing new - it's just the brooding subsurface-level white supremacy that's been there since our founding, unhooded and laid bare. It's easier to judge neo-Nazi's with torches than the micro-aggressions that occur daily, but they are no more significant. This is not a political post in the slightest - while I personally align left, and I think the left acknowledges some of the issues more - racism is not a partisan problem, despite what both sides say.
I haven't arrived and I don't know what I'm doing. I have to apologize and repent more often than not. But I'm committed to this journey of listening, learning, heeding the corrections of friends who are wiser than I, speaking up against racism, teaching my kids about power, race and true justice, and seeking to empower minority voices.
I'm a stay-at-home mom right now. My days are made up of trying to keep my daughter from swimming in the toilet and my sons from ninja jumping off or onto tall things [I failed one of those today]. I don't go to rallies, and I don't have many public forums - this blog [that I haven't written on in 3 months] is one of the only. That's not an excuse, that's just reality right now.
My role in the greater picture is small and my voice insignificant. But it is missed, when it's not there.
Because while my role in the Great Big Battle Against Racism and Injustice is small, my role in my kids' lives [two white sons and a white daughter] is pretty big.
I'm part of a local church that doesn't say a lot about race and God's multicultural kingdom, even though it values that - and I know my pastors' email addresses.
I have friends that I hang out with weekly, as we try to stop our kids from licking green line trains and somersaulting off of things, and occasionally we get a few sentences in between rescues - and we get to challenge each other and learn from one another because we're in regular relationship with one another.
My point is this (and it's mostly for white people like me):
Your voice and your power matters. We each have places where what we say and do [or don't] matters. Social media is included in that, but shouldn't be the only place we think of.
You don't have to have it figured out to be part of the solution rather than part of the problem. Don't expect that you *will* figure it all out. Start with learning and listening. Try to do so from non-white sources. Ask - which books are you reading? which articles? who wrote them? who do you repost? whose voices are you hearing? whose authority are you under? who do you respect? who are you around? Do you validate or question other people's experiences, when you don't understand them?
Recognize that action does not have to be grandiose or "solve" things [because, white people, we can't do that]. Just as micro-aggressions are a part of the problem, micro-actions can also be part of the solution.
Do you have kids? (What did you tell them about Charlottesville? Ferguson? Charleston?) What do you tell them about race and power or kids with different names? Who's pictured in their storybooks? Who wrote their story books? Who do you schedule playdates with on the playground?
Do you speak up when your friend makes that joke or posts that meme? (I didn't last time.) Do you speak up, when the Big Bad Racist Things happen? When you pray, do you ask God to show you your own heart and convict you of ways that you gravitate towards white leadership [people, culture, movies, insert your own option]? Have you talked to your boss/coworkers/pastor/friends about their words or silence on the matter?
Everyone has a starting place - a moment where being "woke" begins - and that involves seeing the problem more clearly and owning it. And for those of us who are white, often times that feels offensive, because it requires we own our own identities, complicity, [sin] and ignorance.
After many years of campus ministry, I came to the conclusion that being offended is not necessarily a bad thing - it's a starting place. What you do from there determines whether it builds anger and frustration or leads to reconciliation and growth. In humility, we grow. In pride, we barricade ourselves from relationship and the truth that can help set us free.
I'm glad I stayed that weekend. And when your moment comes, I hope you will too.
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