Do Black Lives Matter to Me?

My immediate and gut answer is yes, of course they matter to me! 

But, do they really? 

Is there evidence in my life and actions to back that up? 

Do they matter to YOU? Is there evidence in your life and actions to back that up?

Here is my confession. Here is my invitation.

When the world is on fire from long-buried, boiling over anger, what do we do? That was my immediate response: what can I DO? What can we do? What are we doing?

Uncomfortable with the subject, we get defensive, we get judgey. We post our opinions. We make it political. We make it about THEM and their violence and "shameful" actions and not about us and OURS.

This is a post about embracing our ignorance and hate and the injustice we perpetrate. It is also about GRACE. God, please grant us your abounding, never-ending, hope-filling, amazing grace for our sinful thoughts and our silence and complicity.

Disclaimer: I am sure I will say the wrong thing.  It is a justifiable fear - because I usually do (I come from a long line of footinmouthers) and because I am largely ignorant on the subject of racism. So, I apologize if I offend you. Then again, maybe we all need to be more open to being offended with open ears....But please call me out if I say something out of ignorance or arrogance.

My initial reaction to the murder of George Floyd was anger. As for many, that video was the last straw, coming so soon on the heels of the murder of Ahmaud Arbery. And it broke me. Completely. For a week I walked around in a fog, wearing my grief with splashes of anger and sadness, erupting at any moment. I couldn't focus on schoolwork, housework, my kids...pretty much anything else. I wandered around utterly useless with the realization of my ignorance about the state of racism in our country. 

I read articles, blog posts, and bought books. I texted with my best friend, called my sister who is married to a black man, trying to process all the emotion and information. I reached out to a co-worker with whom I have always felt comfortable discussing race. He was gracious. He said, "It's not your fault, Ashley." But I'm not convinced.

I watched movies and documentaries about racism, researched the Black Lives Matter organization. I wrote blog posts in my head about what I wanted the world to know. And rewrote them. And then finally, actually started writing this.

I sat in a parking lot and cried after driving by a beautiful, peaceful protest organized by the children in my town. The CHILDREN, not the town leaders, not our spiritual leaders, but our brilliant teens, who have had enough and are determined to do something.

And I have realized this: I am ignorant, and I am complicit. I am guilty of not caring enough about those different from me to educate myself about their current experience. See, I am educated about slavery and reconstruction, and the Civil Rights era in America (as most of us are). But, I honestly had no idea about the continued and deliberate oppression of people of color in our country.  My white privilege allows me the freedom from that knowledge.

Confession:

I confess to my racism. I am not the antagonistic, attacking, or belittling type of racist, but I am guilty nonetheless. I admit to having prejudicial thoughts and reactions. Driving in Florida through "bad" neighborhoods and locking my car door after seeing a black man nearby? Yes. As an adolescent rejecting a boy of another race/ethnicity because of what my parents might think? Yes. Laughed at or made a racist, stereotypical joke? Yes. 

I am sorry for my conscious and unconscious racism and prejudice. I am repentant for the unconscious ignorance of my youth and the conscious and continued ignorance as an adult.

And I confess to my privilege, which has allowed me to live in ignorance.

MY Privilege Profile:

• Race: Inside and out - I am white. Gleaming bright, southern white from the safe suburbs with nice yards and almost zero black neighbors. 

• Ethnicity: Mostly Italian flavored, because my Mamaw was first-generation and her love was generous and her love language was literally food for the soul, so we simmered in her culture, trying to spice up our American ordinary. On the other side of the family, there is quite a complicated mix of white southern planted with European roots. 

• Socioeconomic Status: Solidly Middle Class (which allowed me to access to an education, to own my own property at 18, to easily finance a car, etc)

• Birthplace & Nationality: Florida, USA (Currently residing in MA, USA)

• Religion: Non-Denominational Christian, founded in the Charismatic variety (for those unfamiliar with this term - the anoint your head with oil, slay you in the spirit, hanky-waving, tongue-speaking kind of Jesus Freaks; similar to Pentecostal)

• Sexuality & Gender Identity: Heterosexual, Cisgender (born female and identify as female)

• Political Affiliation: Registered Independent 

I share that info to show you my privilege and because many of us judge one another on the above criteria. For most of us, our place in those boxes form our identity and thought patterns and decisions, and we rarely listen with ears wide open to those from different boxes.

For some, the categories listed are ALL that is seen or understood about them, regardless of who they really are on the inside. And for many, that first category could equal a death sentence.

I have been given extraordinary privilege. I realize my life has been easier because of the neighborhood where I grew up, the color of my skin, my sexual orientation and even my religion. I have not experienced oppression by another race, the trauma that poverty can inflict, or harassment due to my sexual/gender identity.

And I am guilty. I am guilty for taking it all for granted and not accurately seeing the reality of those who check the "Black" box next to race. 

If you are struggling to understand or sympathize with the chaos and violence filling our screens for the past couple of weeks, please examine your own privilege profile. Picture yourself in the shoes of a black parent who has to educate their son or daughter about interacting with the police. Make sure your hands can be seen at all times. Don't argue. Just do what they say. No matter if you've done anything wrong, comply. Don't ruffle their feathers of superiority. Don't expect justice to be yours my precious child, who is made in the image of God because of the melanin in your skin I passed down to you. 

Now picture your own child under the knee of an officer, begging for you. 

Begging to breathe. For over 8 minutes.

Now multiply that anguish by 400 years. 

When I was younger, I did not understand my own ignorance. I did not understand that saying "I don't see color" or self-righteously, "my children will be colorblind" (yes I actually said that) was just plain ignorant. 

And let me be clear about this: NO WE CANNOT be colorblind. Not only is this an idealistic and dismissive attitude, it is impossible and inadvisable. Because to say I'm colorblind is to say I don't see you as you are. I don't see your pain. I don't acknowledge that you have suffered because of your race. To say I'm colorblind is to say there is no difference in our experience. 

The truth is we all see color (even if  you are technically colorblind, because you are missing those little color rods in your eyeballs). We have been raised in a society that sees color by parents and grandparents who were forced to see color by the very laws of the state and in a country that has for centuries defined people of color as less than human.

Life, Liberty, and Justice for All. Unless your skin is black.

How we see the world, interact and relate with the people of the world, our thoughts, our motivations, our dreams, our anxiety and fears, are all products of either our experiences or our education [I don't strictly refer to institutional education]. You and I have not had the same experience or the same education, and therefore we will not share the same feelings about a moment, an event, an idea, a theology, etc. Right now, as you read this, the influences and memories from throughout your life are carving out how you experience this interaction of ours. My thoughts become words becomes digital text that greets you and your eyes and brain give meaning to the symbols floating on your screen.

You read my profile. Based on your prior knowledge, what kind of person do you think I am? Who do you assume I voted for in the last presidential election? Does my profile of race, ethnicity and socioeconomic status tell you WHO I am? Does the data (even with a bit of my personality thrown in) give you a clear picture of what lights up my soul or breaks my heart? 

I don't think so. I don't think we often ask people, who we see as different, to see the nuanced, colorful picture. We take a quick snapshot. A Polaroid profile. And we quickly discard what isn't familiar and comfortable. 

And if we discard the opportunity to see their essence, their trauma, their talent, and beauty based on that profile, we create the brokenness that exists in our society.

What happened to George Floyd and Ahmaud Arbery and countless others before them, breaks my heart. Breaks it wide open and leaves me bleeding tears all over my privilege. What happened to those men is inexcusable, unjustifiable, and...God, I just have no adequate words....

Despite what my profile and my own admission of racist thoughts may imply about me, I hate discrimination and superiority and injustice. I write about these issue in bog posts and support organizations and businesses who work to fight against them. But it isn't enough. I have not done enough. Mostly, I have not educated myself enough.

The point of everything I have said so far is that the evidence points to:

BLACK LIVES DO NOT SEEM TO MATTER TO US. 

Fairness and justice have not been granted to black Americans and white America has looked the other way. We have seen their profile written on their skin and discarded them, locked them up, shot them dead, suffocated the very life and liberty our constitution grants us all.

I confess my complicity and ignorance and denial. And I invite you to a conversation, even if we don't agree. Join me on a journey of becoming educated. Join me on a journey to change "The Way Things Are."

My pastor did a very rare thing today. He postponed the well-prepared, originally planned sermon for today to address how we as a church and individual Christians should respond to the current crises. His advise is that we Listen, Lament, Learn, Live, and Pray, and I believe that's a good path on which to take our first steps. (You can watch his address here ). 

I have stepped onto that path and commit to living it out, which means doing more than just educating myself but also taking steps to change "The Way Things Are." Will you join me?

Black lives do matter to me. For people of color who read this: You matter to me. Your children matter to me. Your feelings and fears and anger and anguish all matter. I see you. I am listening. I am sorry.

With a broken heart and ears wide open,

Ashley

Below are a few resources to help us get started. But beyond what I have stumbled upon and listed here, seek out books, listen to podcasts, read articles and blog posts that will challenge you; hear from people outside of your social circles and political affiliation. 

Books:

• The Book of James - found in the New Testament of your Bible, or any Bible app, easily downloaded to your phone. The words of my favorite book in the Bible often point to how a Christian should respond to others.

• All American Boys by Jason Reynolds - This is a book I am reading for class by an author I have recently fallen in love with because of his letter to young men he wrote on the subject of consent. He is a multi-award-winning author, writing mostly YA books. (I will finish reading All American Boys by Thursday, June 18th, and I would love for you to read it and then process and discuss it with me.)

• Beyond Colorblind is a book that I am planning to read to join a book discussion with others in my church. Again, I would love to discuss and process it with you too.

• The New Jim Crow by Michelle Alexander - I have not read this one either, but plan to when I have more time for reading books not on my class reading list. I have heard good things about it from friends.

Movies & Videos:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z7ihNLEDiuM

Megan Ming Francis Ted Talk on the roots of racial injustice, posted 4 years ago but could have been given yesterday.

"13th" - Documentary on Netflix

On Being Superior

I usually blog about what's weighing on my heart.  But I have been silent about a certain issue until now. Not because it hasn't been on my heart. It has. I care. I really do. I just wasn't sure I should say anything. I've stated it before, sometimes Silence is Golden.

I told myself I'm not qualified to voice an opinion on this particular issue. So, I have been quiet. I have been listening and reading and trying to understand. And I mostly agree with myself about being quiet. But, I also know that maybe I was partly avoiding the issue because it is hard. It is sticky and sensitive, and it makes me feel guilty. And it makes people say and do hurtful, angry things.

But. Ferguson. Protests. White cops. Black men. Racial tension.

I didn't feel qualified to speak about what's happening in Ferguson or about any of the other recent news stories of black men killed by white police officers - for several reasons. Most importantly, because I am not a young black man nor am I a police officer. I have never walked in their shoes or even walked beside them. I've never been in a situation where I had to choose to protect my own life by taking another's. And I have never been judged as a threat or criminal based on the darkness of my skin color. And, I wasn't THERE. I don't know the truth about what happened. I haven't personally read the case files, and I haven't seen or heard all the evidence. But, I know this to be the truth: in EVERY situation or fight or argument, there are two different accounts of what occurred, and then, there is the TRUTH. Everyone sees a situation through their own past experiences. This is just how we humans are wired. ALL of us. Red, Yellow, Purple, Pink, Brown, Black, or White. We react and make decisions based on our experiences, depending on how we have been treated as white, black, brown, mixed, or multi-colored people.

As a white female, I don't know the truth of what it is to experience life as black or as a male. I realized yesterday that - besides my handsome Jamaican brother-in-law - I don't even have any black friends. Not because I don't want to have any, but I just don't. I currently live and have pretty much always lived in a predominantly white community. We don't have any black neighbors, and I rarely see anyone of color out shopping at the local market. Based on a report from 2000, the black or African American population in Gloucester is .6% and goes up to .9% for those who are biracial. I've discovered that here "minority" refers to anyone who is not Italian. So, my opportunity to have an open conversation about racial tensions with someone of a different race in my town is slim.

To be perfectly honest, race isn't usually something I think a lot about. I guess you could say that's my "white privilege" showing. Probably. I would like to think it's because I don't care. Not that I don't care about inequality among races, but because the color of someone's skin or a person's racial heritage makes no difference in how I would want to treat them.

However, racism is not something I've never dealt with personally. Because unlike Santa Clause, it most certainly DOES exist in the 21st century. Unfortunately, the ugliness and ignorance of racism has caused friction and anger within my own extended family. When my younger sister married a black man, a few of my Southern-bred relatives had unkind things to say about interracial relationships. Personally, I cannot understand their unfounded bias, especially since our clan has stirred in many (way too many to list) nationalities into our own hereditary pot. My own husband, who is a hybrid Mexican, Spanish, Italian, was accepted despite his Latino roots. So, it just makes no sense to me. What is the basis of their prejudice - skin pigment? Really? How completely insane.

I can only attribute their feelings to long threads of lies, which have wrapped around inadequate people, desperate to feel superior. The Desire for Superiority. Such an incredibly degenerating human quest. Feeling we are better than others based on the color of our skin or on our cultural heritage or religious background or the quality of our clothes or the size of our house or the cost of our cars. Ridiculousness. Wreckage. This hole in our human souls where the desire for superiority and importance exists is the birthplace of violence and racism and hatred.

Racism, sexism, ageism. They all emerge from our desire to be better, more powerful, more in control. And we will not rid our country of them until we fully submit to the truth of equality. The TRUTH OF EQUALITY - we are all created equal with the right to Life. The white cop and the black man and the white mother and the black mother all cry tears of sorrow and feel the devastation when a child is taken as a result of any kind of violence. So why can't we end it? Why are there riots and protests going on all over our country in 2014, 150 years after slavery was abolished and 50 years after desegregation?

Because racism keeps being taught. Racism does not exist among children unless they are taught by society to shun or disapprove of people who look different. My daughter's first school friend to come sleep over was a little black girl, who Ali still remembers as the girl with brown skin, because for some reason we cannot remember her name, and the term "black" used in reference to a person of color just isn't part of her vocabulary. Two of her best friends are from very different cultural backgrounds than her own, but she never even considered not being friends with them. And, my children never once questioned the fact that their uncle has darker skin than their own. They just know he is fun, because he plays with them and likes football and fishing and has a cool house. The fact that my nephew has curly black hair and beautiful caramel-colored skin, which is so different from their own, means absolutely nothing to them. And it shouldn't.

And that's why I decided that I had been quiet long enough. Because no matter what the circumstances that led to the death of Michael Brown that summer night in Ferguson, the problems and sickness of racism in our country exist, and we need to keep having honest, loving conversations until we have completely eradicated this disease. We all need to give up on anger and resentment and denial and strive for compassion and understanding and acceptance.

As for this privileged white girl, I know that I will never be able to fully comprehend or understand the feelings of outrage and frustration and injustice that black people in this country feel when they hear that an "unarmed black man" was shot and killed by the police. But I do know that I feel shame and guilt for the reasons behind those feelings of outrage. And I am sorry. I am so, so sorry. And I care about this kind of pain. And I promise to teach my children differently. I promise to try my damnedest to look beyond skin color or cultural background to see the heart of a person first.

To all the police officers who are feeling hurt and taken for granted: thank you. Thank you for your service and for being brave enough to step out into hard situations - dangerous situations which might mean the end of your own life or the life of another. I can't imagine wearing the weight of that responsibility.

This is what I have learned: The only superior attribute ANY human can actually posses is the ability to EMPATHIZE with others. A person's ability to consider another with concern and kindness without regard for status or color or title makes them worthy of the label SUPERIOR.  

So, let's be that kind of SUPERIOR. Always.

Love,

Ashley