Tag: be the change

Dear Lilka (10/21/2016)

Last week, someone commented on the introduction that preceded our letters, “I can’t understand where these turmoils (sic) come from.”

Official White House Photo by Lawrence Jackson
Official White House Photo by Lawrence Jackson

How can I explain to my white brothers and sisters the importance educating ourselves about history, because remaining uneducated about it devalues the experience of those who went through it? How can I explain we have different worldviews that are rooted in this history? How can I explain, as we unpack it, we must all look at it through the eyes of those who felt the pain of it?

As a white woman, I can say categorically based on my experience in jobs, in health care, in the service industry, women are disadvantaged. Studies have shown we receive less pay for the same job, we receive fewer health care benefits, and we are charged more for many of the same services. If we are disadvantaged we can then say that white men hold an advantage or privilege.

At the same time I can say, based on first person testimony and my own research, people of color are disadvantaged and, correspondingly, white people are automatically privileged.

“In 2015, The Washington Post documented 990 fatal shootings by police, 93 of which involved people who were unarmed. Black men accounted for about 40 percent of the unarmed people fatally shot by police and, when adjusted by population, were seven times as likely as unarmed white men to die from police gunfire.” National study, Washington Post.com

For example, as a white person:

I can be certain when I move into a neighborhood, my neighbors will not judge me for my skin color.

I can walk into a store without having people follow me or watch me.

At work, my clothing, hair style or attitude will not be taken as a reflection on my race.

I can argue or lose my temper without someone being afraid of me or using it as an example of my race.

If a police officer pulls me over for a traffic violation, I can be 100% certain I haven’t been singled out for my race. I can also be unafraid I will end up arrested or dead. This is also true for my husband and my sons.

There are white people who will shake their heads at these examples and not believe them. There are skeptics who insist there is no racism, no mass incarceration, no racial profiling, no inherent bias in our justice system whether on the streets or in our courts.

Lilka, how do we begin to help each other bridge these experiences, decrease this skepticism and increase our empathy toward each other? How do we begin to face each other rather than turn our backs, and listen to the pain behind the anger on both sides? How do we communicate with the intent to bridge the vast gap between us?

So I give you a new command: Love each other deeply and fully. Remember the ways that I have loved you, and demonstrate your love for others in those same ways. Everyone will know you as My followers if you demonstrate your love to others. (John 13:34-35)

…and Justice for All

When you see me, who do you see? A Black face?

Someone who evokes rage or fright,

Undeserving mercy, grace?

 

When you see me, who do you see? Blind and white

and deaf; loath to step into shoes

of your pain, color, grief or plight?

 

When you see me, when will you see that I am

a child of God blessed by the Lamb?

ruby_bridges_w_marshals

I have been rocked back and forth this year by the violence in our country over race relations and a serious lack of understanding, grace and communication between us all. To be frank, it reminds me of another decade.

In the 1960s we faced a country horribly divided by racial tension. We watched in revulsion scenes on our televisions of federal marshals escorting young, black children into white schools for the first time while being spat upon by angry white housewives.

We saw Black folks being attacked by dogs and fire houses, arrested for sitting at a lunch counter, and heard about the murders of three young civil rights workers. And at the end of 1964, the first Civil Rights Acts passed, which outlawed discrimination in voting and segregation in schools, at work and in places that served the public.

In 1968 we watched the Freedom March – a five-day walk from Montgomery to Selma, Alabama where thousands of non-violent demonstrators of all races faiths walked to the steps of the capitol building. State troopers attacked the unarmed marchers with tear gas and billy clubs. We mourned the assassinations of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and two months later of Bobby Kennedy. The second Civil Rights Act was passed which outlawed discrimination in housing.

I cannot, even now, get those images out of my mind when I see Black men shot down by police or when I view disturbing videos of police officers clearly out of control. And I don’t understand if just and righteous police officers can wound and capture a terrorist in New Jersey, why it’s not possible, with 3-5 officers present, arrest a man of color without a fatality – particularly those who are unarmed, who have their hands in the air or who are already on the ground.

We need the courage to have public discussions because this is not about one man or woman – a possible offender or a survivor of racism or a police officer. It is about our justice system which does not apply the same justice toward all.

I reached out to my friend Lilka Raphael, a sister in Christ, to ask if she would engage in this discussion with me. Because while I can sympathize and step into her pain and frustration for moments in time, she lives it every day. Because Lilka is a Black woman with a Black husband and two sons for whom she worries each time they walk out the door. And she said, “Yes.”

So beginning next Friday, Lilka and I will begin to write letters to each other, begin to ask and answer questions, begin to talk openly about our own perspectives, our responses, and our hope. Because we each derive hope through Christ, and we each see all our brothers and sisters as clay molded in love by our gracious Creator.

We pray you will look forward to our letters, read them, and engage with us in conversation to create healing and reconciliation in this online community and in your own communities.

In love and prayer,

Susan Irene Fox and Lilka Raphael