It’s been three months since Ahmaud Arbery was shot in the street while running near his own neighborhood. I can’t help but think of it when I grab my own running shoes and ask myself where I can safely engage in such a harmless and wholesome activity. Am I safe in my own neighborhood?
Since then, even in these quieter streets, cleared by COVID-19, a colorless enemy that should have reminded us all of how much more unites us than divides us, more men and women of color have continued to suffer hurt and injustice fueled by racism. My heart grieves for all the stories I know about, and I hate to imagine all of the stories that I am not aware of - the little stories that people like me live through silently. The assumptions, the microaggressions, and the larger incidents of racism that no one wants to talk about. Racism is real and not just a phantom of our history in this country - it is an issue that remains a part of our society and culture, even if the shape it takes or the names we give it are different today. In addition to the problem of racism itself, there is an issue of refusal to acknowledge, discuss, or change it.
I know people I love who would rather dismiss such matters than discuss them. There are people who grow weary of hearing about it, and want everyone to “move on” and “stop making everything about race”. These kinds of mindsets are a privilege that not everyone can afford. If you are not impacted by the problem, I can imagine how easy it might be to live in the comfortable privilege you’ve been afforded without realizing it. Some folks hold on to that comfort so tightly - some deliberately, and others without even noticing. Some people think they’ve been exempted from their privilege because they have faced their own challenges, or had to work for success. (White) Privilege is not the same as a silver spoon at birth; it is the luxury of not having to give thought to how the color of your skin will impact your day to day living.
To live without this privilege is to exist in a reality where the color of your skin adversely affects your day to day living. Sometimes that manifests in small ways. For instance, a black student admitted to Harvard will face the assumption that his race was the reason for his admittance, when in fact, his performance alone was sufficient to gain his entrance. Somewhere in the world, a white girl coveting his spot will assume the spot should have been hers and it will never occur to her that her academic performance and civic responsibility were simply not as outstanding as his.
Then, of course, these issues can play out on a larger scale. A young man will be gunned down near his own neighborhood, a consequence of the color of his skin and some unfounded assumptions.
Racism and racial injustice are messy, ugly parts of our world, and particularly our country, that can be difficult to face and easy to ignore. Whatever your race or your privilege, the courageous thing to do is to face the matter, to consider it, and to act to change it. Let yourself be held accountable for how you respond to racial issues. Hold others accountable. And treat everyone well, especially those who suffer because of these issues. As a believer, I would go a step further and say that we are called to love everyone well.
I write this today not from a place of sadness or anger, and not for the sake of preaching. I write this today so that I might encourage you as I have been encouraged. I started this post a couple of weeks ago, after reading an encouraging Facebook post from a friend and was prompted to finish it today after receiving an encouraging text from another friend.
I thought about what it took to choose to watch that video for the sake of understanding the plight of the victim and countless people like him. I thought about her choice to share about it rather than stay silent about it. I thought about her heartfelt desire to learn how to be supportive of her friends, neighbors, and community members who were being impacted by the same kind of pervasive threats and injustice. And as I thought about all this, in spite of the horrible reality that Ahmaud’s situation exemplified, I was encouraged by my friend’s choice to try to understand the hurt and to respond to it with loving intent.
How nice it was to be thought of in such a time. If a hurricane swept through a friend’s hometown, you might reach out to see how they were doing. If a friend’s relative was in the hospital, you might reach out to see how they were doing. My lovely friend saw some devastating news that might be impacting me as a person of color and thought to reach out and see how I was doing. This was more than a text - it was a meaningful gesture, and it was sincere. It came from a place of love and understanding of the fact that racial issues around me inevitably affect me. Again, in spite of an unpleasant delineation of an ugly reality, I was encouraged by a friend’s response.
These are the responses of people who are unafraid and more than willing to face racial issues, consider them, and act to change them. And it is the sum of people like these who will make the situation better.
So the next time that I grab my running shoes, I may run with caution, but I will know that I do not run alone.