As of Monday, I have been alive for 28 years. Not one of those years has been unaffected by the fact that I am black. And every year, I know that a little more - this year most of all. Birthdays are a time of reflection for me, and this year as I consider my life in the last several years and in the years ahead, I cannot avoid the consideration of all that is going on with regard to race and racial injustice in our country. If I am still here on this earth years from now, I will look back on this time, and remember this moment when all around the world, people were crying out for justice on behalf of people like me.
In the last few months, a handful of horrific incidents have brought national and worldwide attention to some ugly parts of our reality. The headlines came as news to some, but not to me. I already knew what Amy Cooper showed everyone - that white privilege combined with a discriminate justice system not only enables but emboldens unjust white civilians to invoke police presence as a threat to innocent black civilians. I already knew that there are several Amy Coopers running wild, armed with the knowledge that police are inclined to take them at their word and to proceed to take disproportionate and even unjustified action against black civilians. Black civilians remain vulnerable to this threat, which is not to be taken lightly. Not when George Floyds are being nonchalantly murdered in broad daylight, in plain view of civilians objecting and cameras recording. Not when Breonna Taylors have their homes erroneously raided at midnight and are then shot in their homes without having posed any threat, much less committing a crime. I knew this, and most, if not all other black people knew it too.
What has been most surprising to me is the echoing uproar of people who have only just learned about the very real and pervasive racism and racial injustice that still exists in our country. It offers some solace in my ongoing struggle to merely exist as a black person in this society. That sounds dramatic, yet it still does not sufficiently convey the weight of the burden that black people have carried. Every decision I make and every interaction I have has high stakes, and not only because it can easily escalate into a death sentence, but because underlying assumptions about me as a black person as well as unconscious bias renders improper consequences for my actions and sometimes for no reason at all.
Today’s uproars over egregious acts of injustice, brutality, and murder have sparked important discussions about changes that need to be made. However, the framework of these conversations is often incomplete. While it is imperative and foremost that we talk about how to stop the unjust deaths of black Americans, it is not enough. “Black lives matter” means more than “we don't want to die”; regard for black lives has just as much to do with the beginning and the middle of our lives as it does with the end.
Black parents should not have to spend the formative (and following) years of their children’s lives determining how to shield them from and equip them for racism. My parents should not have had to clear hair picks and banana peels from our front lawn because white neighbors were opposed to having a black family move into the neighborhood. They should not have had to petition our district to let us attend our local school and been subjected to all kinds of inappropriate questions about what they do for a living to qualify their children’s entry. They should not have had to sit their children down and teach them how to respond if they should have the misfortune of being pulled over by a cop - speak as little as possible, remain calm, keep your hands where they can see them, respond with “yes sirs” and “yes ma’ams”, even when they call you out of your name *refer to you by derogatory names or words* etc, etc, etc - in short, give them no excuse to harm you.
“Give them no excuse” - that seems to be the unspoken motto of black existence. If you want to stand a chance of competing in a world where white is preferred, you will need to do twice as well in school - give them no excuse not to choose you. If you are being provoked or wronged, respond with quiet calm or not at all - give them no excuse to call you “unprofessional”, “threatening”, “sassy”, or “loud”. If you are overlooked or wrongly accused because of your race, don’t you dare say so - give them no excuse to dismiss you because you’re “using the race card.” You live a chin-up, eyes-down life and make it look normal. You keep your face smiling and your tone upbeat while your mind races a hundred miles a minute to keep up with each consideration you have to make.
Of course, my experience is not a universal black experience - every one of us has a unique experience. My parents granted me all the advantages that they could. That meant researching the best schools and neighborhoods and working hard to position us there. The best schools and neighborhoods were always predominately white, and so my siblings and I grew up in white American culture. Some black Americans learn to assimilate into that culture, but it was a sort of default for us. This meant that even though our classmates, teachers, church members, co-workers, and other people around us might still look at us differently, it was easier for them to warm up to us because in some way, we were already like them. I could see a distinction in how other black Americans in those settings who shared a less whitewashed upbringing were perceived and treated differently than I was. I still do.
However much each black American experience varies, there is a shared racial hardship. It undoubtedly plays a part in shaping our personalities and our lives. In addition to living under the weight of systemic racism (perhaps another topic for another day), imagine being perceived as a threat for no reason at all. Can you? It looks like women holding their purses a little tighter when my excessively upstanding moral father walks by. It looks like a mother pulling her child nearer to her when my sister who is a gifted teacher, beloved by children, walks by. It looks like a cop pulling my high school-aged brother over while he is riding his bike in his own neighborhood. These are not hypothetical situations or imagined racism, but real experiences.
The perceived-threat dilemma is only one facet of racial hardship that black Americans experience. It is one that plays a significant part in the racial injustice that we see so plainly today. The perceptions (conscious or unconscious) of black people as other, less than, or disposable have certainly brought us where we are today, but the perception of black people as threats has largely been the unmentioned justification for their murders at the hands of white perpetrators.
I have had several conversations lately that have helped me to be more introspective than I have been previously about how my race has impacted who I am. I have come to realize how much I allow for the issue of racism to persist by normalizing it in my own life and by virtue of my silence. I’ve grown so accustomed to racism that I think of it simply as “how things are”.
A lack of comfort, and a desire to always have the right words, sometimes hinder me from saying all that I want to say. As a general rule, and a part of my personality, strength and composure are important to me. However, I dare say there is a time to share my burden rather than shoulder all the weight, and even to lose my composure and allow people to see how utterly wrecked I am about these things. I could get so fired up, but I'm afraid to look like "the angry black woman". In this situation as in ordinary little situations in my life, I sometimes think to myself, if I were white I could yell about this. But I am black, and because of stereotypes and fear, I am extra careful about every detail of my speech, including the volume. Sometimes I'm a little afraid to show the full brunt of my opinions and experiences or call people to action because I don't want to make them uncomfortable or feel as though I am imposing.
I cannot continue in this way. We cannot continue in this way.
As a believer, I know that I cannot expect a perfect world on this side of heaven, and so I pray for the world and hope for heaven. However, that does not exempt me from making an effort to make things better. As believers unified by Christ, we are called to mourn with those who mourn, speak up for those whose voices remain unheard, and defend the rights of those whose rights are disregarded. Moreover, Jesus commands us to love our neighbors as ourselves.
Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow. -Isaiah 1:17 (NIV)
I won’t claim to have all of the answers - I have very few answers indeed, but I know that I can use my voice, my time, and my experience at the very least. I am choosing to reject the status quo and break my silence. I am deciding to take a clear and public stand against racism and racial injustice. I am learning, alongside people of many backgrounds about what can be done at a local, state, and federal level to make appropriate changes in government and law enforcement. I am seeking and creating opportunities to have open, honest, and safe dialogue with people who may not share my experience, but have a desire to understand it and to help make important changes in the ways that we perceive and interact with each other in our communities. I am committing to be intentional about finding opportunities to meaningfully interact with people who do not look like me or sound like me or share the parts of my background that have quite possibly kept me from knowing them.
These are the things that I know to do, and I believe that they will make a difference. At the core of racism and racial injustice is a people problem that has a whole lot to do with perception. And that problem starts in our homes, in our churches, in our schools, and all the other ordinary areas in our lives where we spend our time. We cannot change the problem from the inside of our comfort zones, so I invite you to venture out with me. Let us leave our comfort zones and be brave enough to get a little uncomfortable for the sake of making this world a better place.
I want to end by expressing my deep gratitude to the tens of thousands of people from other races and white folks who have joined the demands for justice from police, Americans, and all institutions in America (and the world), by peacefully protesting all over the U.S., England, South Africa, Germany, Paris, and so many places throughout the world. These and other deliberate and passionate actions both seen and unseen are going to push the needle forward as we continue in our drive towards a more peaceful and equitable society.
