The Beloved Community

Touching One Another

2012-01-04T20:46:00.000-08:00

Touching One Another

My client touched something in me today.

I enjoy the adventures of being a therapist. On any given day I can find myself on a road headed anywhere. I love listening and journeying with others. While being open to the journey is fun sometimes you have to guide and sometimes you have to put your foot on the brakes. But often you get to go along and just observe the scenery and road maps of people’s lives.

So when my new client began talking about the stress of his job I recognized the road. I have been on that road many times. There are some crazy managers out there that should be given a profit by pharmaceutical companies because they impact the health and well being of employees. And there are a few companies who should be investigated because of the number of employees that seek medical and mental health intervention. Being stressed by the manager is a common phenomena.

Just as I was settling in to the familiarity of the story, however, more unfolded. My client mentioned many escape home by going to work or escape work by going home but at home another battle awaited him. His wife is fighting cancer. And then she is challenged by acute allergic reactions. On any given day she can have a reaction. And it’s nothing for him to check his wife to make sure she is breathing. And before I know it we’re on a road I’ve never seen and it spirals downward and there seems to be no bottom. And now we’re in a hospital. And his wife is in critical condition. And we stand on the other side of the door waiting for doctors to tell us if she is alive.

And as the story continued to unfold a tear trickled down his face. And then a second one found gravity and came forth. And that one was joined by a third. And then there were no more tears. Instead he began to shake. There was silence. He was trying to hold back the dam. He was trying so hard he was shaking. And in the silence I felt the incredible weight of his burden. I felt the tears trickling down my own face and I prayed. I desperately prayed that this time he would be strong for me, the therapist, because I knew that if the dam broke I would not be able to hold my end of this client therapist relationship. And I can’t find anything to hold on to because the pain is so heavy and disorienting. I was so morphed by his pain that I too could not speak. We were dangerously on the edge of sanity and it took us a while to find our way back to safer grounds. And then we found another road. But I cannot forget how close we teetered to the edge.

As we are coming up on Martin Luther King Holiday I am reminded that King touched others by showing them his own humanity. King spoke to those who were hostile to him as though they had the capacity for compassion and understanding. He believed that hearts and minds could be changed. I think perhaps we all have the ability to touch others. King stated the obvious, that blacks were human beings and as such deserved to be treated with respect and dignity. We should not have to wait any longer for our civil rights. We deserve to be able to sit anywhere on the bus and at the counter. We deserve to have the same tools to pursue happiness. Through organized nonviolent protest the global world saw how black were treated in America. Our story now had an audience. Through peaceful demonstration our story showed the ugly face of racism. King along with others of the civil rights era pricked the conscience of white America.

Maybe by touching one another we can slowly break the chains of racism in America.

A Place to Be

2012-01-02T23:46:00.001-08:00

A Place to Be

When I was a teenager I remember the wonderful world that was opened to me through journaling. Perhaps not unlike most, adolescence was an awkward time for me. The world was big and my place in it seemed uncertain. All sorts of things were happening around me and I felt like there was no one I could really talk to or confide. And then one day in the 10th grade the teacher announced we were going to start journaling. Each day she would give us an incomplete sentence as a way to help us talk about our feelings. For example one day she put up on the board, if I had one wish.

All of a sudden in an uncertain world it was as if someone had put a microphone up to my mouth and said in the most welcoming voice share. The journal was like a friend. I could write in it whatever I wanted. It was really my space. It was a place to be. At the end of each month we would turn our journals in so that our teacher could check them off as homework completed. She would write in our journals generally affirming positive feedback.

Journaling would be something I continued to do for a while. At times I would journal with more consistency than at other times but it would remain a haven for a couple of decades; there for me, when I needed it. And so it has been alarming to note in the last ten years of my life I have almost but all drifted from the discipline of processing situations in my life through journaling. At times I have tried to return to this haven but it just didn’t work. And then I realized I did not need a journal to find my voice anymore. The need was not there. This caged bird was free.

It is important for all of us to find places to be. For me at one point in time the only place that was safe was on the pages of my journal and even that was a risk because adults violated my boundaries. I am glad that the world is no longer the big scary place it was when I was a child. I am glad that I have other spaces in which I can unfold. It is important for all of us to have spaces and places where we can be our whole selves.

A member at my church this past Sunday reminded me of this need in us. He is a white gay male and has experienced being marginalized because of his particularities. Some spaces and places are not kind to people like him. But in an uncanny conversation with blacks on his job he/they found a common ground in discussing their experiences in life as “other.” He was amazed at how alike some of their experiences had been. Whereas “other” can often put distance between “us and them” it had drawn his coworkers and he closer.

I start this new year clearer about my sense of call – to create and participate in spaces that allow people to be who they are. Over at my church, Good News Community Church, we sit with people who are different from us and we are countercultural to the sentiment that 11am on Sunday morning in most churches is the most segregated hour. We come to hear good news about our situation and ourselves. We are different but we come together many because we are looking for a place that will not judge us for where we’ve been , what we’ve done, and who we are. And it’s amazing that in this space you have Korean man who addresses leadership as “the most honorable” and you have the Pentecostal brother banging the tambourine. It’s amazing to watch the Baptist sisters caught up in the spirit and then look across the pew at the former Catholic member stoic who still cannot take communion with us. Diversity flows at our church. My friend jokingly calls us the circus with real live entertainment. But as for me I call Good News Community Church a place to be.

The Help

2011-09-05T09:29:00.000-07:00

I read "The Help" over a year ago. I thought wow this is a wonderful opportunity to pull some Black, Asian, Latino, and White women together for a book discussion. I did an evite and it was on. Now in the final analysis there were some black women present and two white women. As it goes the black women were mostly verbal. Of the two white women one was very outspoken while the other was more reserved in her comments. Anyway the night went on and we had our discussion on The Help.

"The Help" was one of the best books I read in 2010. I read it because a sister, soror, black female friend recommended it. Now up front a brief description about a white woman writing on the maids in the civil rights era would have held no interest for me. In fact, it was a turn off. But because a friend had read and recommended it so highly I downloaded it to my Kindle. Now the book was compelling and I found myself finished almost before I began. The book pulled at so many emotions I felt the need to talk to someone who had read the book. I wanted to talk to others to at least process my feelings. It's one of those books you need to talk about with others.

The books seemed legitimate and believable to me. Now let me be the first to say as a black woman I wouldn't know how accurate the author was to that time period and the black women she portrays. We are reading of a situation where racism was not only oppressive towards blacks it also oppressed a nation. In a book I am reading now, "The Warmth of the Other Sun," the author talks about how we are all constricted by oppression. For example, she mentions this lady had an artifact in her home that got interpreted by her company as Catholic. The comments to the women implying she was Catholic were so scary the lady took the item down immediately after they left and worked hard to show she was in no way Catholic. This example remind me of just how restrictive racism was/is where we all stay in our place, we are all bound. Now I understand race + power means that Blacks are often doubly and triply oppressed and in no way am I equating we all suffer the same. Instead I am wanting to say oppression harms us all.

As a kid, I grew up watching my grandmother help white families. I watched her cater to them in a way that humiliates me to this day. Now my grandmother has always been a kind person to me but she would butter these folks up like they were sweet corn. She acted different and they loved it. They would donate stuff to our family including clothes. I watch my family eat up any scraps they threw our way. I refused to wear or use anything that was given by these white families. With no words or analysis to help me understand what I was experiencing, I hated them. I hated what they represented and the role that had been designated for my grandmother as the help. If I was around them I would not smile or play with their kids. My aunt has scars on her knees from scrubbing white folks floors. And to add insult to injury the family she still works for at 73 years old asked her when the wife passed away if she could wear a white uniform to the funeral. The Help is not just a movie or some book or some analytical argument but it is the street that passes through my heart. It is about the unequal distribution of power and the places we've been assigned as a result. I get that.

Over and against the painful history of blacks in America, for me in some small way these women rebelled against the system just by telling their story at this time. They said what many Blacks have not gotten a chance to say to listening white people. They said what I never got a chance to say to those white families. They said what America has not fully yet heard. They were a small counter culture colony. They were risk involved for both sides. They did not accept the system as it is and so for a little while they journey together. In the book, the white journalist gives these black women a literary platform to speak to White America. It doesn't seem big perhaps today but in that time period it was no small thing. They got a chance to cross lines.

I think the author of The Help has come under great critique and we live in such a world where that is a good thing. I applaud her for having the audacity to touch a subject that is a part of the country's history - race. I applaud her for having the audacity to cross the lines however successful or unsuccessful others deem her efforts. I applaud her for giving us another platform to talk about race. I always celebrate the opportunity to have authentic conversation about how are we going to learn, live, and love on this earth together celebrating the full humanity of all especially those who have been marginalized. Thank you!

Diversity Will Require Something More

2011-06-22T07:25:00.000-07:00

I have a diverse group of friends and associates because I intentionally engage people from various communities. I have had a lot of closed doors but I am proud to say my community is diverse. I have spent most of my life living in racially diverse communities. In fact up until about 12 years ago when I lived in Bronzeville for 3 years I had always lived in a racially diverse community. For people in my age group and those younger this is a rarity. Perhaps it says much. Perhaps it says very little.

I can remember when I first came to Chicago to go to graduate school. It seemed to me whenever I socialized with white folks all they would talk about was their animals. Now you need to know my background to maybe understand why this was such a struggle. In my home in Virginia, animals, including dogs and cats, lived outside year round. It was treason for an animal to step foot inside a home. Carrying an animal in for medical problems or getting shots didn't happen. Dogs and cats got leftovers and special animal food was a rarity. That's just the way things were. So now I'm sitting with these folks who are talking about their dogs and cats with such passion and life. I am at a lost for words and it becomes impossible to find an entry into these conversations. I was soon on a mental plane out at these gatherings wondering when the night would end. When friends would ask me to come to the party I would share with closer friends I wasn't interested in talking about cats and dogs.

Now I'm sure this was not all "they" talked about but it's all I can remember. It sure dominated the conversation. And it left an imprint on my mind that has stayed with me to this day. So what' the point? That was the first title of this blog, "The Point." The point is for those committed to racial diversity (meaningful relationships with people of different race/ethnic groups) it is sometimes hard to find our entry point and sometimes we use that as an excuse to not engage those that are different from us. I'm reminded of one of my white friends who when hanging out with my black friends tells me I do not know what you all are talking about. You go into this dialect and I have no clue what you all are saying. It's frustrating for her and she feels left out like I did at those graduate school parties. Lets admit it different cultures have different ways of existing which can make us feel left out. Whether it's the topic or the language it will require something more of those of us who are committed to living in a diverse world.

The other night I was at a gathering with a racially mixed group. Towards the end of the night the Latinos congregated together and began singing some revolution songs in Spanish. I loved the music and so I made my way on over there. It was a spanish singing and spanish speaking moment. I did not understand one word but I swayed and allowed the spirit to sweep me away. It was still a little awkward. I didn't know how they felt about my presence. Eventually one sister came over and asked me if I spoke Spanish. She shared the words to the song. Then they played a song I know, "La Bamba." It was on. I could have stayed in my own comfort zone. We can all stay in our comfort zone. In fact many of us do. I left feeling glad I had ventured out.

Because this is my blog I can make generalizations and hope someone challenges me on my stuff. That said, multicultural/multiracial is often a word I hear white liberals sport. Some blacks are suspicious of the word. Liberal whites speak it so well and they share how important it is to them. But if you follow them closely like look at their gatherings or better yet check their facebook page out and with the exception of a few token non-whites you wonder if diversity stole away in the night. They take nice mission trips to Latin, Central and South America. They are concerned about the environment, and animals, etc. They love to cultivate their global awareness. They teach ASL classes, etc. but when it comes to reaching out to Black America, reaching out to the folks they still owe 40 acres and a mule to I find them lacking. Some will say I didn't do anything and I shouldn't be held responsible for what my ancestors did. To that I say you benefit from the privilege without any complaints. I don't hear them saying don't treat me so well because I don't deserve special treatment because of what my ancestors did in America. But I'm getting away from my point and my point is this - while multicultural is a word with so much potential for it to be a reality it takes intentionality i.e. moving beyond our comfort zones to have a conversation about cats. It takes more than interest it takes commitment. It takes more than a night of wine and cheese it takes us. Diversity requires something more!

Relationships are Important

2011-05-27T19:31:00.000-07:00

So it was time to visit my dentist. But before visiting the dentist I had this mental conversation in my head, right. My dentist lives far away from me. When I first started seeing her I worked a mile away from her office but some few jobs later my job nor my residence is close to her office. It only seems natural in a big city where there is lots of everything that I find a dentist closer to me especially with the rising gas prices. So this is the conversation I had with myself before walking in her office.

My dentist scares me. She's a strong black woman, the real thing. She's tall with lots of weave and she wears 3 inch heals or higher to work everyday. She dresses her but off and is keeping some cosmetic company in business. She has opinions and is not easily swayed which is an understatement. She is religious and she lives out what she believes. I think if we talked long and deep we probably would disagree on many things. I'm not going there. I love to playfully tease my dentist and staff but she has the ability to stop me or at least slow me down. I imagine I'll look like her in a few decades minus the heals and makeup. Okay so I'm somewhere between scared and impressed.

The exam is over. I'm like in her top 5 folks that take good care of their teeth. Please do not look at my teeth the next time you see me. I didn't start out on such a good page but like I said she scares me so I started flossing and brushing and doing what I had to do to keep the wrath of Dr. Young off my ----. And so another A+ report. I feel good but I'm still determined this drive is too far. I say goodbye and head to the receptionist. She follows. I'm keeping it cool. And then she announces she just had a birthday. My mother taught me manners so I say Happy Belated Birthday and asked what did she do. Well there must have been an open door because she spills out a few more sentences. I'm thinking I'm leaving so do not be friendly with me. And then she announces her age, 63. Okay so I'm totally shocked. I'm shocked because she looks younger. I squelch the question of retirement because she is still obviously good at what she does. I have new found respect for the sister with curly weave and 4 inch heals decked in red like it's nobody's business slightly hidden under the dentist wear. It is at that moment that I know I will drive far and I will return. I'm not even sure i can put it into words.

Good relationships are and have always been important. Good people are keepers. This dentist has been looking in my mouth for a while and she knows something about me. I dare say she's been looking inside of me. And i know a little something about her like she cares for her 19 year old with severed developmental disabilities. I know beyond the tough exterior is this wonderful caring person. I see it in her staff. I hear it in the glimpses of her life she shares. And I feel it in me. I will go back again and again because at the end of the day that's all that matters, you and me.

A Face

2011-05-16T23:55:00.000-07:00

Have you ever been to a shopping mall on a Saturday and looked for parking? You drive down rows and rows of diagonal parking. The only parking you can find is way at the end of the row. Oh and there's one more place close and up front, handicapped parking. Usually if there are four handicapped spaces only one car is parked. (Note: Occasionally I have seen cars without a handicap sticker park there or seen people park with no disability and get out and walk). Or have you ever been in the bathroom and there were two stalls and because the handicap stall was more spacious you went on in.

In undergraduate school I had a classmate whose mom was handicapped, confined to a wheel chair. She explained the challenges her mom faced. She talked about unclean stalls and how hard it is for someone in a wheel chair to maneuver such situations. She talked about buildings that claimed to be handicap accessible yet her mom's chair could not get past the front door entrance. That story touched me. As I listened to her share the struggles her mom faced I felt convicted that I was a part of a crowd that was insensitive and clueless to the challenges of another. Though I never met my classmate's mom that story gave a face to physical disability. It made me just a little bit more aware. And on that day I aligned my actions to be more sensitive to those who are physically challenged.

As I look at the political tensions surrounding illegal immigrants and same sex marriage I wonder if these issues had a face would or could we be more humane. On both of these issues I use to be very conservative. By conservative I mean "go back" and "get out." I am not saying liberal is the way but what I am saying is that through life experiences and being in relationship with people who are adversely affected by these issues has given me a face. It gives integrity to the discussion. It is not just an issue to debate but it is people's lives. I still do not have all the answers but having a face makes the discussion more humane.

Elisabeth Lesser introduced a notion of inviting the other to lunch. You explore the following: Share some of your life experiences. What issues deeply concern you? What have you always wanted to ask someone from the other side? Of course the other is that person or group that we can't stand. She says by going to lunch with the other you begin a real conversation. She gets that right now we are more divisive than other and we are good at demonizing other. So she invited a Tea Party member to lunch. What they learned is that they knew no one who fit the labels that the other group had given to them. What she didn't say but I will say is that they both had a new face for Tea Party and Liberal. Okay maybe I'm not totally won over by this idea but it is compelling.

It is so easy to be divided and to feel the rightness of our cause but that's another blog. It is easy to think and live as us versus them. It is easy to demonize others and feel justified in our acts. It is easy to never cross the tracks. It is easy to hate. It is much harder, more liberating, and life transforming to see the face of other.

The Distance

2011-05-04T20:38:00.000-07:00

On my way to the airport last week I rode on the blue line with people going to work. There was this middle age Latino woman dark complexioned with long hair twisted up. There was a glow in her eyes and instantly among all the riders I felt a connection with her. Several stops later two more Latino women entered who sat beside her. She introduced me to them as her friend or so I thought form the little Spanish I understood. It was a brief encounter but it left me feeling good about her, myself, and diversity.

I love diversity really I do. People are just interesting and their particularities just adds to the fun. As a military kid I was raised in diversity so I guess I have always been exposed. In an era where many of my peers grew up among people of the same race/ethnicity I grew up with people from all over the world. I did not know then how rich and unique was my experience. I have almost always with the exception of 3 years lived in diverse neighborhoods.

That said I still think there is this unspeakable distance between people of different race/ethnicity, in particular blacks and whites. Perhaps it is not for all and perhaps if there is a distance that distance gets defined differently by each of us. And for some of us it is a distance we live with comfortably. For me that distance is this gnawing belief that deep in the psyche of whites (and other non-Blacks) is a belief that they are inherently superior and that Black have brought the lie that we are inferior. I think prejudice has conspired and made it a reality of sorts. This is the distance that stands between us and them.

Tonight I watched the 50th Anniversary of the Freedom Riders on Oprah. Oprah had 178 of the 436 Freedom Riders survivors on her show. Diane Nash reported that segregation was humiliating. She said that every time she walked through one of those signs that read colored or white she felt like she was agreeing that she was inferior. Another man tells the story of coming into a bus terminal and having a white man beat him until he was bloody. The police asked if he wanted to press charges and he said we didn't come to start trouble but that people would love one another. And the white man heard that and it gnawed at him for 48 years. And in 2009 he apologized to the man he physically attacked. The freedom riders got on the bus to face a hell on earth called hate. What courage it took to board that bus. Through nonviolent behavior they thought they could change the world and they did.

I hope that more of us will have the courage to lessen the distance from one heart to another. The distance is there but we each have a moral responsibility to lessen the gap by reaching out towards one another. Amen!

I Was Wrong

2011-04-30T19:23:00.000-07:00

Every time I go to the grocery store I try to pick the line I think is moving the fastest; after which, I rant that I managed to pick the slowest line. Yesterday was no different. There were three people in front of me. When the cashier rang the lady in front of me groceries up her eight items came to 13.47. When the cashier told her the cost she said that the total was too much and that something was not right. I looked at the kids and I looked at the lady and the first thought that came to my mind was she doesn't have the money. With people behind me, I was stuck. I couldn't easily move to another line so I accepted the notion that God was trying to teach me more patience. It had to be because I lingered in this line 10 more minutes. It was triple coupon day. After gong through two cashiers and calling a manager who never came someone finally came. When it was all said and done the lady's bill came to .08. I stood astonished. The lady had more coupons. I asked why didn't she get more items. Her response was I try to buy only what I need. What started out as frustration ended for me with having deep respect for this woman/sister/mother. I liked her. She was patient. She worked the sale. And her kids were respectful.

I was wrong. I had made a judgment about someone after being in their presence only a few minutes with no words exchanged. I do it a lot. Maybe we all do it a lot. I don't mean any harm but it's like an unconscious process. I was wrong. I wonder how many times with different ethnic groups are we wrong. I wonder how many times have whites judged others without even caring to open the book because they are afforded such luxury by the privilege of their skin color. I wonder how many times do Asians get it wrong about blacks as they peer at us through glass windows selling greasy fried rice or hand over their merchandise in glow beauty store with a sign behind them that says no returns. I wonder how many times have Blacks judged Latinos as a group taking something from them in the battle of jobs and citizenship. Iwonder how many times have Puerto Rican Latinos gotten it wrong about Mexican Latinos. I wonder how many times do privilege folks get it wrong about the less privilege. I wonder how many times have middle class gotten it wrong about the poor and vice versa. I wonder how many times has society seen a group of black kids with baggy pants hanging gathered as opposed to any other group of youth and gotten it wrong. I wonder how many times do we look at each other and draw the wrong conclusions.

I think essentially racism, prejudices and stereotypes is about drawing the wrong conclusions about each other and missing the opportunity for true community. I can't say I won't ever draw a quick conclusion but I can say I yearn to understand and be understood. I yearn to embrace people as I do a book, with a desire to absorb all of its content.

Skin

2011-01-16T22:28:00.001-08:00

This year at our church, for our Sacred Conversation on Race, we are doing a movie and discussion. Last week we showed the first half of the movie, Skin. Skin is based on a true story about a white couple in South African during apartheid who give birth to a brown skinned child. The story follows this child and her experiences. For example, they drop her off at a boarding school but the other parents complain so badly that she is removed. The irony is that she doesn't even know she is brown until one of the girls tells her she likes black people. The character informs her that she is not black. Her parents go through court proceedings to get her classified as white. These papers however do not ease white people's uneasiness with her skin color. There is one point where she bleaches her skin so that it can be lighter. The story is a sad case showing us how the systemic structure of racism boxes us all in. The parents can only see their child as white while the world because of her skin sees her only as black.

After we watched the first half of the movie I posed to my member this question - if you skin could tell the story of your life what would it say? I think the question was too profound for our 30 minute discussion but it lays unopened and unanswered for me. I have always felt my skin as a black person was just right. I wasn't too light or too dark. I was in the middle able to move with ease around all folks. But even this middle had to be delicately maintained. I remember one summer over my friends house not wanting to go out in the summer heat because I would get too dark. This notion was confirmed by another friend's mother who said to me you know you can't marry too dark because you have to be concerned about your babies and you aren't that light yourself. I was more shocked by this ladies confession because her own daughter was ebony in complexion. No wonder her daughter always dated light to white men passing up the chocolate brother who loved her so much. I am also made aware of the delicate nature of my in between state by my cousin who is darker complexioned. She shares with me her baggage of feeling never quite good enough because she is darker. When we were young and someone called her black she would beat the crap out of them. I also remember family members telling my cousin that she couldn't wear certain colors because of her skin color. Growing up I felt for her because it did not feel right and somehow we both got the message that many get if you're black stay back, brown stick around, if you're light you're alright, and you can fill in the blank. I believe skin is very important.

So if you're skin could tell the story what would it say?

Living Inside the Lines

2010-08-31T21:22:00.001-07:00

Today I went to a river with a little sand and water. If I knew the name of the river I would tell you but I do not. When I arrived there was a lady and a girl. I approached the area with my toddler son. The lady was white and her child was relatively dark making me momentarily wonder about the child's ethnic makeup. They were having a good time. Though I couldn't see it I felt like there was some line drawn that said we were suppose to stay in our spaces. For a while it appeared that all parties were living inside their own lines. But then something changed. My son, given his age, did not quite know the rules. Venturing out further and further as far as his curiosity would take him ended up in the space of the woman and child. While they acknowledged his presence their less than friendly response confirmed for me that there was this line and he had crossed it. Well after little one had tried to engage them he eventually found his way back to mom. I thought my son somehow had stepped across the line unbeknownst to him. While the woman and child were not overly receptive to him he had not been deterred. In that instance he made me aware of the line I conformity. He also made me aware that I did not like the fact that I had been complicit. It also occurred to me that that's just how oppression works, constructing invisible lines were our very being, thinking, and values are co opted.

Relapse

2010-08-25T21:39:00.000-07:00

I have made a commitment to living my life in relationship with people who do not look, act, or think like me (with the exception of Republicans). By diversity I do not mean having a person I can point to as my non-Black friend. I am talking about vulnerable honest open space. I believe the best way to combat any ism is to be in relationship because the ism now has a face and the face is someone that matters to you/me. Having said that, every now and then something happens that makes me want to relapse to my former self. For me that happened when I visited a white suburban church. At first I pushed myself not to judge the people because I had not lived on their street. I had not traveled in their shoes. The fact that I was pushing myself is already an indicator I was judging them. Still, I tried to be open to forming new relationships. However, after a series of years I have been mostly turned off by the pastor, colleague, and members. My interactions with people at this church make me feel hopeless that the racial divide can ever be crossed and/or healed. In fact, I think I was wounded. I imagine Shirley Sherrod has been wounded through the most recent incident. While she's saying one thing on the camera I can imagine she said another off camera. I can only imagine. I imagine that all of us but especially minorities have experiences that make us shake our heads and wonder if people of European descent can ever really enter into authentic relationships that they do not have to monopolize? Or perhaps more accurately do they even care or notice how the other side lives? Are they aware? Do they understand how much the darker siblings complete the human story? I think perhaps I have relapsed. I realize I am making generalization but this is just me keeping it real about how I feel. By making my opinion public I am also inviting a conversation. Not every road I've been down is discouraging but there are some bumpy roads out there. And from conversations with minorities I know that this particular road has been very populated. Hurt tempts us to retreat and I am not exempt. And trust is hard. And even if we eat each others food and sing each other's song we still have some critical work to do to live as the beloved community.

The intentionality that is missing in multiracial/multicultural churches

2010-08-19T15:11:00.000-07:00

Being an intentionally multicultural faith community is hard work. Is is easy to cater to one groups likes. In fact statistics report that 95% of our churches do just that serve a homogeneous group of people. However to attempt to create a space where multiple cultures can gather and feel the presence of God takes intentional effort. I must confess I don't even fully know what that means but the vision of many nations under one roof must be the guiding light. Being a multicultural church doesn't just happen. Being a multicultural church doesn't mean you have one Latino family and the remainder of the congregation is black as someone recently told me at a Diversity Conference. Being multicultural is not even having a few ethnic families. It is the intentionality around the space and an identity that gets formed from the we and not any I. It is hard work but it is worthy work. And even then members complain. If you go to far to the left certain members complain service was too long and too much. If you go too far right people report they can't feel the spirit. While it is a part of our history and Good News Community Church members embrace being a multicultural church no one ever considers the cost of being intentional. The cost involves all of us being willing to give up our particularity to potentially make room for others to come. For example singing a song you do not like because it ministers to someone whose primary language may not be English. Being a multicultural church is a vision of a seed God has given to some of us on this earth. Being a multicultural church is a journey and not a destination. Being a multicultural church is the recognition that diversity is one of the most wonderful gifts that God has given to humankind.

The Help

2010-06-10T11:15:00.000-07:00

I just finished reading The Help by Kathryn Stockett. This book is about black maids and the women they work for in 1962 in Jackson, Mississippi. This one white women, Eugenia Skeeter, who has completed college comes home to find her maid is gone. She ask but noone will tell her the truth. Part of the elite, she hears her friend talking about the importance of a separate bathroom for black workers because they carry diseases. Eugenia thinks this is crazy but the culture of conformity around race is so thick she dare not challenge her friend's belief. Eugenia wants to be a writer and develops a relationship with an editor in NY. The editor ask her what would she like to write. Eugenia the first time around puts what she thinks the editor wants her to say. The editor pushes her and she comes up with the idea of writing a book where black maids get to express what it is like for them to be maid in the south. At first they all say no. The first person to say yes is Skeeter and second her best friend, Minny. Medgar Evans is killed and a maid is sent to jail. Slowly one by they begin to say yes. Their stories are powerful and rich. As the story is forming they are all scared of the consequences. Eugenia loses all her friends. But something scary happens they find their own fuel among each other. The book gets published. The white women read the book. Some recognize their maids. Others do not. Mostly for once they have been exposed to what their maids think of them. This part feels very redemptive. And this among others is one powerful aspect about this book.

So why am I writing on this blog about this book? Well it's all about race, racism, oppression, etc. It's about the tensions and obstacles that exist between us. Racism allows the person on top to exist without awareness for the person on the bottom...without regard. It allows those who have privilege to be ignorant and thoughtless about those without privilege. But it also makes invisible those on the bottom to those on the top. It relegates those on the bottom to places they had no real say so about. It struck me in this book that obstacles still exist to us knowing and understanding other. We still live apart and separated as I am reminded by an associate whose family lives in the suburbs. When she shares what they think about black people behind their closed doors I know that racism is on the back shelf but it's there. And it makes me mad.

What I like is that the black women discover the power of their own voice. For the oppressed we have to find ways to speak our truth. We have to find ways to insist on being heard. And the black maids in "The Help" do it!

The Race Card

2010-04-01T10:43:00.000-07:00

At our last Sacred Conversation on Race, the question was posed is the race card used to frequently. There were a range of responses. Some looked absent-minded. Some said no. Some said yes but in most cases it was accurate. And yet a smaller minority said yes it is used too often. What do you think? One person instantly began to share her treatment in a restaurant where she and her children were asked to leave. She pondered why was she being so badly treated and concluded race. Well this was plausible but foggy when she shared there were other minorities in the restaurant. Well what are other reasons she could have been asked to leave. The group embarked on a conversation about what are the ways in which we discriminate against others. In more practical terms who are the people who receive poor treatment from society or some group of people. Here's a few - obese people, homeless people, immigrants,foreigners (from certain regions), nerds, smart people, uneducated people, bunch of teenagers clustering together with baggy pants, etc. Well actually once we got started the list went on and on. There seems to be a whole lot of ways we measure and sum each other up and many of them are not so great. So once we had all these measurements on the table the question I posed was why when there are all these possibilities on the table do we so easily conclude that race was the deciding factor? It's easy said one person. It allows people not to have to do the hard work. It's true concluded another person.

I remember a professor once telling me when she was young her parents always challenged her and her siblings from resorting to race/racism when they experienced obstacles. They would ask had she done her best and a series of questions. It wasn't that race wasn't involved but maybe it is too easy to use the race card. So what about you...do you use the race card too often. Maybe, maybe not? Maybe the next time we encounter other maybe we try not to use the race card or all the other cards that puts more distance between us getting to know one another.

Racial Reconciliation: Relationships Matter

2010-01-14T10:48:00.000-08:00

I've been away for a while but I am back. Tending to a baby has radically changed my life. The Sacred Conversation on Race continues to happen monthly at Good News Community Church, 7649 N. Paulina, Chicago, IL 60626 (http://goodnewschicago.org/). We have had lively conversations where people continue to be shocked and surprised by what they learn about each other. Our real goal is to eradicate racism through the building of relationships. For a while I wasn't sure if we were reaching that goal but this past gathering opened my eyes.

We always begin our meeting with some informal introduction that involve light sharing. This past month I asked participants if they had to choose another ethnic/race group than their own what would they select. Well at first the room was very quiet as people claimed that the question was hard. But eventually one person did break the ice. Perhaps shattered is a better word. An African American female turned to the person sitting next to her and asked her ethnicity. The White female said she was ashamed of her ethnicity but it was revealed she was German. The African American female said that you are so nice that I would choose to be German. Well the group tried to unpack the shame for the White woman of being German but the African American female would not budge and was adamant that because of the kindness of this White woman it would be an honor for her to be German. It was a powerful moment for the group.

As we continued it was amazing to hear the ethnic groups people chose and why. The deeper point is that even though there are many things that divide people most of us are curious about other and that curiosity is a connection. We want to know but somehow we never get around to nurturing our curiosity. Because of a group of people I have met with for almost 2 years I am more curious than ever to meet, learn, and know those that are different from me. Selah!

Angry Black Women

2009-08-17T01:29:00.000-07:00

At our last Sacred Conversation on Race one of the questions posed was are black people angry? Immediately I thought what a loaded question. However, right away, the person reading the question off a piece of paper which concealed the identity of the the person answering the question said he wanted to answer the question first. The reader of the question was a black male and he answered that black people were angry but especially black female. He went on to say that black women do not know how to appreciate a good black man. The mood like Chicago's weather shifted drastically. As facilitator I quickly tried to hold off every black woman as I could see the hairs on their skin rising. I decided to allow the other males to speak before the sisters had a modern day verbal lynching. The men varied in their opinions but none of them felt as passionate as the original speaker. One woman responded we are angry but we're angry for a variety of reason including the responsibilities that are often placed on us and the lack of male presence. Another (white) female wanted to qualify that the conversation had a heterosexual tone and that some women did not want men and some men did not want women. That being said the conversation went back to being a heterosexual conversation. Women talked about being pregnant, feeling alone, domestic violence, infidelity, etc that contribute to and exacerbate their anger. The question was stimulating enough but our answers only begin to touch the surface.

I know you want to know my response as author of this blog but as one who is passionate about human interaction across all differences. One, I wish we would stop making blanket statements about other whoever that other is. I know I'm just as guilty as the next person. But when a person says that black women are especially angry, as a black woman, it immediately places a tension in our relationship. I do not desire to say whether I think the statement is true or not or be defensive. I'm more interested in when are we going to have a conversation that appreciates the unique positions of all people. When are we really going to find new pathways to travel together. When are we going to stop pitting one group against or over another and realize that our survival as Dr. Martin Luther King Jr said is dependant on each other. I think there is a lot of anger out there these days that gets displayed in different folks differently. Black women need compassion. Black men need compassion. White, Asian, Latino, child, female, male,etc all need compassion. Perhaps if we use compassion as our starting point and treat all ills with the same level of sensitivity then we can begin to expose our whipped backs and weary legs and have a real conversation on race.

Balancing the See Saw

2009-04-06T09:12:00.000-07:00

So at our last Sacred Conversation on Race one of the questions that was posed was, "do you believe the media plays a part in race?" For a group of people who had been divided on several of the questions that were asked suddenly there appeared an opportunity for us to collaboratively sing, yes Lord, yes Lord, from the bottom of our heart to the depth of our soul, yes Lord, completely yes, our answer is yes. Except after the choir of different voice ranges sang harmoniously, one off voice begged to differ with us. It was already clear the answer was yes but what was this wayward voice trying to say. I think he was advocating for balance. Too often when we say race is a factor it tips the see saw in one direction. It dismisses, absolves, accuses, and sentences all in one breath. This dissenting voice asked for balance by stating we have a responsibility in this process. It is so easy in matters of race to be aligned to the right or left. Both sides set up camp and membership equals absolute and total allegiance. However the conversation on race, the gathering of all people, requires us to balance the see saw. When I hear the left everything rest on the back of -isms (i.e. systemic evils). Some of those people are prepared to do nothing other than complain. They cry whenever they perceive an offense. I do not subscribe to this sort of being because it makes us reactive. If I am suspicous of the left with their bleeding heart and continual bleeding leads to death then I am paranoid of the right. They advocate for personal responsibility and pulling one's self up by the boot straps. Its totally up to you. If people fail then it's their fault. Both of these sides alone are incomplete. Too much weight on one or the other sides leads to the see saw being unbalance. The dissenting voice in our conversation was calling for the balancing of the see saw.

The Race Card

2009-03-20T01:50:00.000-07:00

If race could be compared to playing cards then the race card would have to be an ace. First let me qualify this article by saying race is so much a part of our encounter with the other in America that it needs to be honored as part of our reality. I am taken aback by the expectations placed on Obama at the beginning of his term in office as President Elect of America. I have intentionally distanced myself from the news and its negativity. I am a die hard supporter of Obama and the reform I think he will bring. I think the race card is important for minorities and it is one we should hold wisely.

Havin said that, a professor/mentor told me that her parents taught her that when she encounters a problem that the last card she should use is the race card. Instead she should examine herself and other factors. By doing this they encouraged her to take responsibility for her destiny. They cautioned her that the race card could become a crutch. When she shared this story over 7 years ago I could not hear the wisdom. I made all kinds of judgment about her and dismissed the pearl of truth. I know that race/racism is real and I do not want to sweep it under the rug. However some years later I'm taking in the lesson.

If we as humans are to ever overcome the obstacles between us, I think on the part of minorities we might want to play the race card less. For those of us who believe in a multicultural community, we have to be wise about which cards we are going to play. In both instances it's not to ignore or dismiss racism in America but the power to impact our destiny lays much more in holding ourselves responsible. And just maybe and I say this in a whisper not all of our obstacles are race. I know personally classism and sexism have taken a toll on my body. And those who are nonheterosexual face all kinds of discrimination. Maybe when we point the finger towards other people's bigotry maybe there is a finger that points at us as well. Just maybe.

Lately in my own denomination there's been a stew that has resulted in the race card being pulled. Personally, I think it's the wrong card to play but it's been pulled and for all card playing folks you know the ace trumps all. Or is it the joker?

Are Blacks More Spiritual?

2009-03-15T16:33:00.000-07:00

We had our sacred conversation on race this month. We had anonymous questions placed in a bowl. One of the questions was "are blacks more spiritual?" While some disagreed the majority of individuals felt that in fact blacks were more spiritual. Two people said because blacks have often faced more oppression their faith in God often was all they had. Others sort of shook their head affirming in fact that black are more spiritual. My first inclination if to pause but my second might be to say yes as well. I think first we must ponder what is spiritual. I think many of us see spiritual in terms of appearance. So black people often articulate their faith and show expressions of their faith that make them appear to be more spiritual. However, I am not sure being more spiritual is about what you say or how you move your body. I'd like to think of spirituality as something deeper and more sustaining like oatmeal. Spirituality is like an anchor. If I think of spirituality as having roots that run deep, then I'm not sure that blacks are more spiritual.

Equal Playing Field

2009-03-02T08:04:00.000-08:00

I know before I repeat what I heard it sounds like a record that has been playing for some time. It is part of an old conversation that some will perceive as having no road out. It sounds like blacks are the victim and white people are the oppressors. It's the cry of oppressed black people in America. I hope you will keep reading anyhow.

I watched Pt. 1 of Tavis Smiley's 10th Year Symposium on the State of the Black Union with a panel of honorable and noteworthy blacks. The theme was "Making America As Good As It's Promise." The panel included Jesse Jackson. I wasn't too interested in his presence but his words drew me in and I remembered my father's statement that is one smart man. He said that in areas where the playing field was equal i.e. sports that blacks have excelled. But in areas where the playing field is not equal i.e. access to health care, education, jobs, economics, etc blacks have struggled. He said we want to raise the questions and not get attacked for asking the questions.

I'm back on my band wagon - there is an unequal playing field as it relates to education. The education that many poor and minority children receive is inferior to what is provided to middle class white children all over the world. I am not just talking about the classroom but education that goes on in the home, community and institutions. The unequal playing field is so great that one groups sits on a mountain while the other exist in the valley. If we can create one school of top caliber then we can create two. And if we can create two we can create 20. And if we can create 20 then we can create 200 until there is an equal playing field.

First World Students in Trouble

2009-02-28T10:07:00.001-08:00

I keep revisiting the inequality of education in America i.e. the disparity between education to minorities and economically poor children and Caucasian and middle class children.

Yesterday I spoke to five classes of largely Latinos and African American high school students for Career Day. First let me say that I was warmed by the level of enthusiasm and spirit which they brought to the conversation. However, there were several of realities that deepened my concern over the plight of minority youth. Out of about 75-100 students less than 10 had a grade point average of a 2.5 or higher. Second, many of their interest seemed to be shaped more by television shows than a genuine interest in a particular field or a recognition of their gifts and talents. Third there was little understanding of what it takes to obtain a position in their desired career. I could go on but the reality of what they knew is probably as much telling of me as it is of them. I am concerned. At lunch time I joined other presenters who were concerned too. I met people who work with high school kids on a consistent basis and they echo my concern. In fact, President Obama echoes my concern. Recently he said, "If we want to out-compete the world tomorrow, then we're going to have to out-educate the world today. Unfortunately, when our high school dropout rate is one of the highest in the industrialized world, when a third of all fourth-graders can't do basic math, when more and more Americans are getting priced out of attending college, we're falling far short of that goal."

There is something happening and I am deeply concerned that many of our minority youth are seriously not prepared to face the world in which they will enter when they leave high school.

Reparations

2009-02-09T05:20:00.000-08:00

Our church meets monthly to have a sacred conversation on race. The last two months we have been talking about reparations; however, our discussion is not the general take. I asked members what are we trying to repair and make right? This took us on an interesting discussion about the inequality of education. One of our members shared the inferior education she received and how that has hindered her all her life. It hurt her when she could not help her own kids with their homework. While she worked for years to obtain her GED and values education, she still feels the weight of what she does not know pressing against her neck. Others chimed in we still have to try. One member felt like minorities use racism as an excuse not to do their part. Other members expressed even though some individuals use excuses, inequality is very real and it beats you down. Those of us who had attended top notch universities in our fields also testified to this sense that we are never quite as knowledgeable as our white counterparts. I mentioned a board I served on. I noted that on this board made up of mostly white men that any one of them could call a friend working at a corporation and get financial donations. The contacts, the inheritance, the cheat sheets, the resources available are unequal.

So how do we tackle such inequalities. How do we repair the pain, the history, the bigotry, the prejudice, two centuries of stuff that exist between us? One member said it will take thousand and thousands of years. Many of my members concluded reparations is an almost impossible task or they feel overwhelmed with the question. And how do we begin to have a conversation with those across the lines? How do we have a conversation with some walking in the privilege of their education and others walking in the humility of their wisdom? How do we have a conversation when the one who talks should be listening and the one listening should be talking? How do we have a conversation when some people are defensive and guilt ridden and others are angry as hell? How do we have a conversation when some think in black and white and others are swimming in the grey?

I like the language of repair because it suggest that there is something I/we can do. Even though I'm not totally clear about what that doing work looks like for 9 months a group of ordinary folks, black and white, with profound stories of how race/racism has intersected with their lives gather to talk, share, and listen. We do not know where this conversation is taking us but we know where we've been and we keep telling each other about it. So for now I commit to chipping away at the task until it reparations is possible.

The Unexpected

2008-12-02T16:11:00.000-08:00

Hello:

I have been wondering how to start and maintain a post. A colleague suggested I post all my sermons for a starter. While I was not to keen on that. I decided that mabye what I could post are my afterthoughts regarding each sermon. I admit that often life is a process and sermons beg for, what my play mom describes as, "a beginning, a middle, and an end." However, often what stimulates the sermon idea has no beginning and I'm surely not ready to conclude by the time I preach. So here it is...the space and place that can hold the indefinite. We shall see.

So this Sunday I explored the unexpected...Mary's pregnancy. Life really can become boring, routine and the unexpected wakes you up. It cuts into business as usual. It sometimes catches us off guard. It writes on a page that was already done. I was thinking this even as I looked out at the parishioners. They sit and wait on the worship leaders to either inspire them or not inspire them. There's this whole model for church that I try to challenge, stretch, and step out of that wreaks of boring. But a lot of times it feels like trying to swim upstream. I would love it if people came open to the unexpected. I would love it if the claims on our life do not have to have the final say . I would love no matter how much we are caught up in living, struggle, and justice that we would reserve a little space in our lives for the unexpected. Reserve a little space for the child like faith. Reserve a little space for our hearts to leap up. Reserve a little space for joy, hope, and grace to crawl into our lives. For me, I hope that I can reserve a space that is as giddy, excited, idealistic, hopeful, and optimistic as the day I decided to become a follower of Christ.