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| Artwork by Andy Baughman |
There aren't words. Only broken hearts. Broken families. Broken societies. A broken world. Broken. We. Are. Broken. When we should be coming together, building each other up, we tear each other down with harsh, hateful words. We are families spewing hate at each other for the whole internet to see. We are friends attaching unfair strings on our friendship. We are a country that can't see past political party. We are leaders using tragedy to increase our own power and influence. We are the Pharisees, willing to kill the innocent in the name of staying comfortable. What are we doing?
I don't want to ask how we got here. History is so important, yes. But what I do want to ask is how are we still here? I used to look at the Israelites in the Old Testament and laugh at their foolishness and complete inability to learn from their history. I don't do that anymore. Now I shake my head because I see myself in them. I see my family in them. I see my city in them. I see my country in them. We say, 'look how far we've come!' Not. Far. Enough. I went to a panel on anti-racism a while back and one of the panelists was talking about implicit bias. She said she saw a group of white people jogging through her neighborhood and she called up her friend saying, "You wouldn't believe the group of white people I just saw running through my neighborhood!" to which her friend replied, "Ok, and?" Her point was, there's nothing notable about a group of white people running together. But if the roles were reversed, if there were a group of black people jogging through the neighborhood, people would stare, people would wonder what they were 'up to,' someone might even call the police. The whole room felt that. We were all there to pursue anti-racism in our lives and to learn how to encourage those around us to do the same, and we all knew she was right. We all knew that we were included in the people she was talking about. We haven't come far enough. Not even close.
So, here we are. We see that it's rotten, shameful, unacceptable, and that it's tearing us apart in our families, our friendships, our country and our world. A coworker recently said she's been really struggling to feel 'proud to be an American' right now. I feel that. So how do we make a difference? How do we be part of the solution? Where do we even start? We have to work on ourselves. I heard someone say that being anti-racist doesn't mean that you don't have any implicit biases, it doesn't mean that you're perfect, it means that the moment you recognize an implicit bias within yourself, you call it out. You dig. Where did that come from? It's deep down in there. You throw Truth at the lies that live deep inside of you telling you that someone is somehow less because they look different. Less safe. Less friendly. Less capable. Less lovable. Less of a human. These. Are. Lies. Lies that have burrowed deep down beyond our awareness. But as soon as their ugly little heads pop up, we have to be willing to play whack-a-mole like we never have before. We have to force ourselves to continue walking on the same side of the street (except for maybe right now with social distancing measures in place), keep our eyes up and even say hello with a warm smile. We have to let our purses hang off our shoulders the way we normally would. We have to show our kids how to love people. All the people. We have to have those conversations with our kids, with our friends, with our families, with our coworkers, with our churches. I admit, I am guilty of avoiding the conversation. I'm guilty of playing the Asian card and saying I couldn't possibly harbor any racism because I too am a POC (p.s. I don't love that term). But if I'm honest, I've had every white advantage in my life. The very fact that I have the luxury of being able to place myself in a white crowd and fit in says I don't know anything about being a person who doesn't look white in this country. I am so sorry that I have put my comfort and sense of belonging over the safety of my black brothers and sisters.
Let us be people who are okay with being uncomfortable. Let us charge into the awkward because if we don't, we'll never get better. We'll never stop killing innocent people because they look 'suspicious.' We'll never stop assuming that our brothers and sisters with black skin can only ever be skilled at entertaining us, whether through sports, comedy or soulful jazz. We'll never stop unfairly punishing black children in schools and handing out labels like 'problem child' for things that white children don't even get lightly reprimanded for because the white kids are 'just being kids.' We'll never be a place where people who don't look white feel safe inside their own skin. I'm not okay with that. I choose to be uncomfortable. I choose to make eye contact. I choose to use my privilege to be part of the solution. Right now there is so much brokenness. But our right now doesn't have to be the right now of our kids and their kids after that. Our right now needs to go into the history books and never be repeated. We must learn from our history. We must not try to bury what we've been and done. We must be uncomfortable for the sake of justice. We must take responsibility for making sure the future isn't like this. Black. Lives. Matter. Why do we keep acting like they don't?
