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Archive for the ‘Revolution’ Category

Breaking for Baltimore

Posted in Invitation, Revolution on April 28, 2015| 2 Comments »

I can’t talk about what it means to be invited to the table today. Today, the fact that so many are shoved, beaten, shot, and barred from it weighs too heavily.

I can leave you with a few things I’m reading. That the images that get the most coverage are the ones aimed to condemn the violence of people destroying property but not the violence of people destroying lives is infuriating. That the peaceful protests of the majority are downplayed because it upsets the us-vs.-them narrative is unacceptable.

Karen Walrond – To my white friends who struggle with what to say

Lasana Hotep, via BKNation – “When people speak to the racial dynamics in these situations, they find themselves accused of ‘playing the race card’—a tactic that puts the victims of police violence on the defensive. We need to ask the question: How did the race card get in the deck?”

Orioles’ COO John Angelos defends protesters.

Andi Cumbo-Floyd on the importance of checking our privilege in these conversations.

If icons are part of your prayer life, consider some of Devin Allen’s images when you talk to Jesus about this.  And support Allen’s art.

Ugh. White people. Where are the people calling them animals?

Ta-Nehisi Coates – “When nonviolence begins halfway through the war with the aggressor calling time out, it exposes itself as a ruse.” (thanks to A’driane Nieves for the link)

Jesse Williams – “Police and policies have been rioting on our bodies; destroying people & property every single day of your lives. But here you come….When the beaten, marinated in centuries of trauma, pain & distress, manage to muster a response, here you come squealing; revealing.”

Read. Share these stories of brutality being bought off and shoved under the rug. Question what’s going on in your town.

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Black. Lives. Matter.

Posted in Rants, Revolution on November 25, 2014| 6 Comments »

As the grand jury’s decision in Ferguson was announced, I did something unusual for me. I have ignored my Facebook feed and have clung to the hashtags #Ferguson and #blacklivesmatter. I am not quite myself today. This is the fourth or fifth version of this post, and this is the nicest way I can say it. I know I’m usually Ms. Every-Voice-Matters, but the truth is that some of them don’t to me.  Not today.  Maybe not ever again.

I am ignoring my feed because I don’t want to see any of my friends’ faces next to a defense of this decision. I am nervous about going home for Thanksgiving and hearing it there. I am combing through the documents of evidence presented to the grand jury, but if anyone wants to have a conversation about it that is not tempered by grief and loss, they’ll have to have that conversation with someone else.

I am unwilling to believe that a system in which a young man can be denied due process and killed by a one-man judge, jury, and executioner without the case inevitably going to trial is a system that works.  At all.

I don’t understand how anyone, knowing anything about our country and its history, can hear an officer describe how he looked into the black face of his alleged (because remember – never forget – Mike Brown never got his trial) attacker and saw a demon – something subhuman – and not be triggered by how much that REEKS of Jim Crow.

Sitting here and reading this little bit of history repeating, I cannot view anything other than further investigation as justice.

People can hide behind The System and How It Works and shut their eyes against anyone for whom it doesn’t, but they don’t get to do it with me. I know it looks complicated, but it’s really not. Black lives matter.  You either agree with that, or you don’t. And if you don’t, I don’t see myself putting my precious effort into taking anything you say seriously.

I used to talk about laying down privilege, but there was always something inside that bucked against that notion. I assumed it was my own privilege talking – the fear of being without its protection. And that’s probably part of it. But when I look at the benefits afforded to me by my white, well-educated, employed, straight(ish), cisgendered, healthy(ish), beloved daughter of two still-alive and still-married parents existence, I see another reason for my hesitation. I see my ability to walk – or even run – up to a police officer of any race and not get shot. I see my ability to walk into an establishment with my currently imaginary significant other and not be denied the same service enjoyed by others. I live, move, and work in a world where my mental, emotional, and physical states are not treated as arguments against my humanity.

I hesitate to lay down privilege because I am angry that these benefits are considered privileges. They are basic human rights and should be the shared experience of everyone who is human, not doled out selectively, based on arbitrary demographics.

Nor will I wear my privilege like a cape as I swoop in to save the day. I am not anyone’s savior. In fact, I’m sure there are areas in which I am so blinded by my privilege that I don’t even realize I’m part of the problem.

But I am listening. And I will not stop speaking up. When I see injustice, I will say so. If you find that annoying, maybe you should examine why. Look for a little chunk of privilege wedged in your own eye, because that’s probably where that’s coming from. You might want to get that checked.

I had planned to extend an invitation during my Easter Feast course to other people to guest post about what it means to them to be invited to the table. I’m not sure it can wait until then. More information coming soon.

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Five Minute Friday – Change

Posted in Five Minute Friday, Hope, Revolution on August 22, 2014| 4 Comments »

“Until White America tells fear to fuck off, we’ll keep dying at the hands of ‘justice’ in a country they broke our backs and our souls to build for them.” – A’Driane Nieves, in “White Supremacy and Fear: The Cracks in America’s Foundation No One Will Fix”

Words have sat heavy on me this week. They land hard on my lily white skin and seep into me.

This sounds awful.  It’s not.  This is how change works. It strikes, and then it sinks in.

I suppose the easy thing to do would be to get defensive.  The danger in taking the easy route is that the events that incite heavy words are usually broken systems that aren’t worth defending. The easy route allows the stunted soul to stay the same and hide from anything that doesn’t fit into what it already understands.

I don’t want the easy route. I want the words and the stories of the angry and the oppressed and the dismissed to melt into me and change me.

I am trusting firsthand accounts. I am trusting their lived experience that says this is only the latest installment of a system of oppression. The learned inclination to trust a badge just because it’s supposed to be trustworthy is quickly unraveling. My trust in authority is no longer immediate (and let’s face it – has not been immediate for quite some time).

I am praying with some of the bloggers I follow as they go to Ferguson to hear the stories of the people who have been there. I am praying that words will land heavy on them. I am also praying that they will be safe.

I am praying that the people – all the people – of Ferguson will be safe. I am sitting uncomfortably with the knowledge that feeling safe would be a first for many of the people of Ferguson, for many of the people in this country.

But I will sit with that discomfort.  I will not run away from it to take the easy route. I will change.

I am linking up with Kate Motaung for Five Minute Friday. The prompt is “change.” Join us.

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I Choose Them

Posted in Hope, Rants, Revolution on February 17, 2014| 4 Comments »

Disclaimer: Yes, this was inspired by a real-life conversation.  If you were there, you know it, because I wasn’t subtle.  Nothing here will identify you, nor will it offend you, because it’s so much nicer than what I said to your face.  All others, if this post offends you because you feel that, in some theoretical way, it could be directed at you, maybe take it up with Jesus. Maybe talk to him (or a licensed professional, if you prefer) about why it could have been directed at you.

If you say something racist within earshot of me, I consider it my business.  I will confront you.  Even if you weren’t talking to me at the time. Even if I don’t know you. I will do my best not to embarrass you, because shame is a lousy motivator, but I will address it.

I will confront you, just like I expect you to confront me when necessary, because I am not perfect and need to be confronted sometimes.

It’s not that I think I’m better than you.  This is not image management; I’m not trying to look smart or culturally sensitive.  I’m not even really trying to teach you something, although in the best case scenario, we would both come away from the experience having learned from it.

It’s just that it is my business.

Racist speech inevitably draws a line, dividing the whole of humanity in two. It breaks the natural design of the universe. Our differences are meant to empower us and to give us voice. Racist speech corrupts this design and turns difference into a silencer. Your racist remarks draw a line and force me and everyone else around you to choose which side of the line we’re going to stand on. And lest the word “force” sounds like it’s some great burden, the truth is that my having a choice in this situation in the first place is a privilege afforded to me by my lily white skin.  The easy choice is to stay quiet and pretend that it doesn’t concern me, or to say that there’s nothing I can do, or to hide under the cloak of “no one needs me to speak on his or her behalf.”

But as a friend recently reminded me, I don’t have to make the easy choice.  So I choose to use my privilege in a different way.

When you draw that line in the sand between us and them, I choose them.

If you are a complete stranger, I choose them.

If you are my very own flesh and blood, I choose them.

If you are randomly wandering through my building at work, I choose them.

If you occupy any rung of the ladder at my workplace(s), even rungs that are far above me, I choose them.

If we are friends despite our having nothing in common, I choose them.

If we are friends because we have so much in common, I choose them.

If you are trying to get my attention because you want to date me, please note that this is the exact wrong kind of attention to get from me.  I choose them.

If I have shown interest in dating you, don’t expect my crush to silence my response, because I choose them.

Even if telling you that you’re wrong will cost me our relationship, I will still choose them.  If that’s going to break the deal, I’m going to go ahead and let it break (for a little while at least). My hope is that eventually you will cross over the line with me. My hope is that one day the line will be destroyed and diversity will be a place of celebration, not competition.

But if you draw that line in the sand, I will choose them.

 

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