The next post in the series comes from my good friend, Precious Jones. In her post, Precious authentically shares about her experience as a Black woman and what she has to carry because of that identity. She challenges readers to consider the passivity of privilege and calls us to action on the path to racial reconciliation.
As a
Black Christian woman I have more anxiety on the Sunday or Monday following
tragic events such as the #Charlottesville attack because the work of racial
reconciliation is exhausting. The Sunday following Charlottesville (which
happened to be less than 24 hours later), I remember being hopeful as I entered
church that I would regain some of my sanity. At least a little bit.
Thinking to myself, this Sunday at least one non-person of
color would come up to me and legitimize the concern I privately expressed to
many. I recounted the personal conversations held following the election
of our President regarding his rhetoric and lack of empathy for non-whites.
At the time, I shared that I thought his views would give credence to
those who held extremist and racist views to become hyper-visible and less
concerned with "hiding" their views or their faces. We
witnessed that in #Charlottesville.
This
was not a moment of wanting to be right. This was a moment of wanting to
be validated. I wanted to feel sane, if only for a moment. The
context here is that I have spent countless hours listening, sharing, and
praying with congregants and colleagues as we earnestly look to live
reconciled. Yet, I exited my phenotypically diverse church that day
without a single conversation or acknowledgement from a white person. I
exited with increased ache in my heart. I exited wondering how many more
Sundays will I sit in this pew and wrestle with the passivity of privilege and
the tone policing of my voice. I then hoped for a face to face conversation,
text, phone call on Tuesday, Wednesday, or any day. It did not occur.
Exhaustion enters stage right.
After
reflecting on Amy's blog, How Do I Handle My Privilege, and her compelling question at the end which asked 'What
privilege do you have, and how can you use it to serve the underprivileged?'
I stumbled upon a revelation.
In
the United States of America, privilege has been a silent teacher for hundreds
of years. Privilege, white privilege, for those who possess it, has
taught that good things will come to them simply because of who they are - even
if that good thing is racial reconciliation.
Many
would argue that hatred is a learned behavior. I'd contend that just as
hatred is taught, so is the passivity of privilege. It is mostly taught
without using words. Privilege by its very nature is passive. It
demands absolutely nothing of its possessor. It teaches its possessor to
protect it at all cost. Privilege indirectly teaches that if one desires
racial reconciliation, then it will be achieved by simply waiting for
the "perfect, comfortable, opportunity" to have a difficult
conversation, ask an awkward question, or get to know a person outside of your
ethnicity. Privilege has written thousands of history books and passed
hundreds of laws. And with events like #Charlottesville, it waits patiently to
reconcile. We've been miseducated, and the western church has been an
active pupil.
Miseducation definition: a wrong or deficient education
Racial
reconciliation is costly. It takes work.
Many
desire racial reconciliation through a five-step process or a "quick
read." I've had countless people ask me to give them a resource to
navigate this difficult and messy space. For instance, there’s a local church
in our city that offers a fantastic six week workshop on race which creates a
safe space for people in the community to listen to one another, grow in
empathy, and dialogue. However, I’ve encountered many who’ve been content
with attending this six week session and reference this as their “work” in
racial reconciliation. I commend people for attending; however, when this
session ends, the work of racial reconciliation doesn’t. If the only
desire is a resource, racial reconciliation may not be realized. It happens
over time through empathy, honesty, contrition, and proximity. Get close.
Get uncomfortable. Get honest.
If
the American church desires to really model racial reconciliation, the Church
must re-educate itself. Learn from Black folks. Listen to
Black folks. Lament with Black folks. Let Black folks lead.
I
don't want a racial reconciliation that demands more of one follower of Christ
than the other. I pray that my encounter on the Sundays following tragic
events are less anxious and more intentional. As Amy stated in the
previous blog, may we be known by what we lay down, rather than by any
privilege we hold high.
As a
follower of Christ, I remain hopeful that racial reconciliation will occur in
earnest as I continue to engage in uncomfortable conversations, love others
where they are, and speak truth to power. I'm encouraged that
others are doing the same. I have not thrown in the towel on racial
reconciliation. Each day I hold tightly to the hope I have in Christ,
anchored by the reality of my desperate need for Jesus as I do justice, love
mercy, and walk humbly with my God.
Greater
love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.
- John 15:13
Maybe
the first act of laying down one's life is to lay down the passivity of
privilege.
As
we lay down our respective privilege, I pray that we build authentic
relationships across multiple ethnic groups, help restore broken communities,
and recognize systems that perpetuate marginalization for disadvantaged groups.
May we use our power, resources, and influence to tear these oppressive systems
down; decision by decision. Racial Reconciliation, like sanctification
(process of becoming more like Christ), is worked out daily. It is not a
one time act. It is a lifestyle.
The
church has been "waiting" for racial reconciliation for too long.
Let's intentionally give differently, live differently, and love
differently. Not just in words, but in lifestyle.
May
privilege be ousted as primary instructor in the work of racial reconciliation
and be replaced by empathy that leads to action.
"He has told you, O man, what is good;
and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness,
and to walk humbly with your God?"
- Micah 6:8 ESV
Precious Jones is the proud daughter of parents who’ve known struggle. The familial impact of poverty and struggle shape her writing. She works in youth & education advocacy for those marginalized. She’s a former Electrical Engineer who delights in creating through writing. She is a proud southerner turned foodie who loves people more than she loves good food and a good read. She resides in Cincinnati, OH and candidly shares her predilections [bias, leaning, weakness & predisposition] on her blog, Precious Predilections.
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