Tag Archives: ethnicity

Systemic Racism

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During the week in which Alton Sterling, Philando Castile, and five officers in Dallas were killed, a friend of mine emailed me and wanted to discuss a phrase that I had used on social media quite a bit.  That phrase was “systemic racism.”  He wanted to know what was meant when people used it because it could be interpreted in lots of different ways.

Considering the kind of responses that we all saw on social media that week, the respect and kindness that was shown by my friend was a breath of fresh air!  So I spent an hour or so writing out how I define “systemic racism” and why I define it that way.  I’m no expert by any means, but this is an issue that I care a lot about.  So…

Here’s what I wrote (with a few minor edits and a few links included):

I think you picked the right place to start — “systemic racism.”  …  It’s not often that the term is defined carefully and even when it is, not many people listen.

Here’s the way I define it: Our system as a society in the United States is bent against people of color, especially black people.

It began before there was a United States with the Trans-Atlantic slave trade and continued through Antebellum slavery.

After the Civil War when black folks were free, they had few places to go. This period, called Reconstruction, was a really trying time for most black people.

Many black people, if not most, ended up moving to northern cities looking for work or because they were forced out of the their homes in the south.  Since very few white people (both in the north and south) wanted to live with them, they were forced (sometimes by law) to move into downtown areas.  These areas were devoid of jobs that they could do.

Other groups already living in those areas (most notably immigrant groups), especially the Irish, Italians, and various Asians, have had an easier, but still quite difficult, go of it in our country.  And when black folks moved into the inner-cities, many of these other groups moved out (at least those who could afford to often did).

That left very little work for black folks and not many other people groups cared.

In the midst of this horrid situation, it’s natural enough that crime began to rise.  People needed money for food and shelter.  Eventually the criminal element began to organize, just like it did with the Irish, the Italians, and other groups before.  (Side note: for whatever reason, we call black organized crime “gangs” and that of other groups “the mob” or “the mafia.”)

Anyway, while this was going on almost no laws were made to assist, aid, or protect black people.  They were slaves and then they weren’t.  Black folks were set off on their own.  And when some of them weren’t succeeding, people (especially white people) said, “work harder.”  And many, many black foks did just that.  Or that tried to…but many couldn’t find work.  And even for those who found work, it was almost never a “good enough” job to help get them out of their predicament.

But no one really cared.

Well, that’s not entirely true.  A few people cared a lot…so much so that they worked tooth and nail to ensure that black people continued to have a hard time.

Many cities and counties passed laws limiting where black people could live, where they could be educated, whether or not they could vote, etc.  This is what we all call the Jim Crow era and these laws and policies are called Jim Crow laws.  Some people even hated black people enough to kill them for little or no reason.  Public lynchings were happening fairly often in the south and, for the most part, most of the murderers were never caught, tried, and brought to justice.  As if they needed another reason, but most black people at this time had no faith in the governments of the cities, counties, states, or even of the US.

Then, as you might expect, in the 1950s and 60s black civil rights advocates began to rise up, people like Martin Luther King Jr., Malcom X, Rosa Parks, and others.  They were demanding that people look at the plight of their community.  They were demanding that they be treated with equality and justice.  They were demanding that the color of their children’s skin shouldn’t impact whether or not they had a shot at making it.

And what were they met with?  Death threats.  Church bombings.  Stricter laws in some places limiting their freedoms.  And more lynchings in some places.

What it took for America to begin to wake up to the overt racism of so many people was live video footage of police dogs being sent to attack black folks, including children and black folks being beaten unconscious by “peace” officers.  The public perception of the civil rights movement began to shift, but overt racism wouldn’t let go.  Civil rights leaders were assassinated, more acts of terror were leveled against the black community, and even white allies were assassinated too.

After the various Civil Rights Acts and Voting Rights Acts were passed, it became more or less a major social faux pas to exhibit any overt racism.  The KKK and other white supremacy groups eventually shrunk.  The use of the n-word decreased to some degree, at least in polite company.  Not serving black people in a business became a crime, etc.

For most white people, this is when they think that racism in America ended.

If only that were true.  If you ask individual persons of color, especially black folks, about their experience of race in the US, some will tell you horror stories of overt racism and virtually every single one will tell you stories of the results of implicit racism, what many people call “micro-aggressions.”

Implicit racism would include things like women clutching their bags when black men walk by, people touching black women’s hair, and people asking a Latino graduating from college if they are the first in their family to do so (a question almost no one would ask a white person).  Most people don’t mean anything nefarious by these micro-aggressions, but people of color notice them and many are hurt by them.

These hurts add up over time.  They make people of color feel white people view them as other, something different, and, to some, as less than fully human.

The problem is that people who represent authority are guilty of implicit racism too.  (So are people of color, of course, and so are people of color who are in positions of authority.)  What does this look like?

Well, when I worked at Best Buy as security personnel I was way more likely to watch a black teenager on the monitor, even though in all my time there we never caught a black person stealing anything.  (Side note: I caught employees and lots of white people stealing.)  But my first instinct was to watch the black teen.  And my implicit bias against black people isn’t just something that I have.  Many black people report being harassed while shopping.  It even happens to “well-dressed, respectful, and articulate” black folks.

Hiring managers, as famously reported by the Freakonomics people, are much more likely to favor applications that have “white sounding” names to those with “ethnic sounding” ones.  This implicit bias more or less goes away when the applicants are in front of the hiring manager, presumably because he or she is trying to be equitable when seeing a person of color face-to-face.

And, unfortunately, police are victims of implicit racism too.  Multiple studies have shown that people, all people, tend to prefer images of lighter-skinned people, while at the same time being more threatened by images of darker-skinned people.  This same implicit bias has been seen in numerous studies of police officers too, though they tend to do better than the general public.

Thus, for many police officers, black people, and especially black males, are implicitly more threatening, will be watched more closely, etc.  This can be seen in the evidence from the NYPD about how black people (as well as Latinos) are much more likely to be stopped and frisked and why “driving while black” is a reality, since black drivers will, generally speaking, be watched quite a bit more closely.

(Please note, implicit racism is not the fault of a given individual.  It’s human nature.  It’s part of our basic tribalism that says members of “our group” are better than members of “their group.”  And black cops are also likely to exhibit implicit racism against black people as white cops are.)

But a more important part of systemic racism today has less to do with implicit racism and more to do with the residue of our explicitly racist history as a country and some explicitly racist laws and policies.

What do I mean?  Well, as I mentioned earlier, after the Civil War many black people moved into inner-cities.  Those that didn’t, those who stayed in smaller towns, were more or less forced to move into neighborhoods that were comprised almost exclusively of other black people.  And these boundaries were often set into law or official housing policies.

Even liberal Pasadena, CA (where I once lived) in liberal Southern California has some of these policies in its past.

And, unsurprisingly, many black people still live in these very same neighborhoods today (unless they’ve been pushed into even “worse” neighborhoods thanks to gentrification, property prices rising, zoning policies, and imminent domain abuses, etc.).

And, unsurprisingly, these communities didn’t have the best services, the best stores, the best schools, etc.  And between the Civil War and the Civil Rights Act, these communities were heavily policed by largely white police forces because of the realities of organized crime and because of overt racism (just go back and listen to some of the recordings of Bull Connor, the infamous sheriff in Alabama [like this one]…they’ll make your skin crawl!).

So folks in these communities started way behind the starting line in comparison to where others in the US started.  And black families who “made it” had such a harder and longer road to hoe, even than white families who began at similar levels of poverty due to explicit and implicit racism.

During the 70s things seemed to be getting a tiny bit better.  It was during this time that the rise of the black middle-class happened (which is basically gone today, by the way), thanks in part to government jobs, especially those at the post office, sanitation control, and the like.

Then the 1980s came with the “war on drugs.”  Some of the policies set in place during this time period by the federal government, as well as state and city governments, really harmed black communities.

How so?  Cocaine.

The rush of cocaine into the US during the late 1970s and 80s really hurt lots of people.  In fact, it seems that people of all ethnicities were using cocaine in more or less equal percentages.

But the laws surrounding cocaine disproportionately affected black people.  Crack cocaine was punished much more harshly than powder cocaine, though both are equally bad, equally addictive, and equally dangerous.  And black communities tended to use crack over powder.  Sentences for crack cocaine were much longer than those for powder.  Drug-free zones were set up in communities affected by crack cocaine, but not those for powder, which meant that a drug conviction in a drug-free zone was more harshly punished.

So when a black person was caught using cocaine, he would be sentenced to a much, much longer sentence than a white man, sometimes dozens of times longer, since he was likely to be using crack in a drug-free zone.  And since the police were more likely to heavily police black neighborhoods (due to the number of calls, population density, and implicit racism), black people were much more likely to be caught using and possessing cocaine.

It was so bad that black users of cocaine would go to jail for much longer sentences than even the white people who sold it or whomever trafficked it into the country!

And this war on drugs, which targeted black communities (intentionally or not, doesn’t really matter), really hurt these communities.  Many children in these communities had to grow up without fathers since so many black men were incarcerated on drug charges.

Some neighborhoods were hurt by the policies so badly that only a very few men ever made it out alive or without being incarcerated.  One of my mentors, who happens to be black, grew up in the neighborhood where my wife and I once served and he tells the sad story that of the 20 boys that grew up on his street, only four or five aren’t in prison or dead today.  His story is not uncommon in neighborhoods like his, one that is labeled a drug-free zone and has a large black population.

(Quick aside: many of the crack-specific sentencing laws and policies have been altered or overturned, but, in general, crack convictions still carry longer sentence than powder cocaine today.)

And with the massive influx of people (mostly people of color) being incarcerated for drug charges, jails began to fill up.  State and federal monies were used to build more.  Then these new jails filled up.  It got so overcrowded that many states gave many of their prisons over to private, for-profit companies who run them.  These companies make millions and millions of dollars incarcerating people.  They often get paid by the number of full jail cells they have.

In other words, these companies have a vested interest in keeping their beds full, so they do what any successful business would do, they lobby to keep laws and policies in place that keep their beds full and their profits growing.  And their money is in the pockets of politicians on the left and the right, thus ensuring that the industrial prison complex remains full of people, mostly on drug charges.

And a very disproportionate number of these people are people of color, thus furthering the problems of their communities since it means that parents (especially fathers) are literally taken out of the equation.

And all the while, white people use drugs at about the same rate as blacks (some studies indicate that white folks use more drugs) and yet white people are not arrested as often and when convicted serve shorter sentences and once in prison are more likely to receive parole.

And it’s not just drugs.  As the horrible Brock Turner (the swimmer at Stanford that was basically given a slap on the wrist for sexually assaulting a woman behind a dumpster) story reminds us, white folks are often given the benefit of the doubt and/or shorter sentences.  For example, a Vanderbilt football player, Cory Batey, committed a similar crime as Brock Turner, and he was sentenced to a much, much longer sentence — 15-25 years.

Then you take a look into the public schools which serve black students and see that they are much, much worse than those that serve white communities.  In fact, according to some recent research, a case can be made that our public schools are more segregated now than they were during the Jim Crow era.  And, unsurprisingly, the schools that serve black communities generally underperform.

And the list could go on and on.  Black graduates of college are less likely to land a job than white graduates.  Etc., etc., etc.

And, unfortunately, the data shows that a given black person is much more likely to die at the hand of the police than a given white person.  All of the factors above play into this sad statistic.

Just to be clear, in the vast, vast, vast majority of cases I don’t think that black people are more likely to die during a police interaction due to explicit racism.  There are really so few people who are jerks like that anymore.

But implicit racism and its effects are real.  And the residue of the explicitly racist policies and laws of the past and some of the current policies and laws that disproportionately impact black people are real too.

If we’re going to move forward as a nation, then we need to admit some things.  Here are a few of those things:

We need to admit that we live in a country in which our Declaration of Independence calls a group of people “savages” and the 13th Amendment of the Constitution repealed a compromise that argued that black people are 3/5ths as valued as other people.

We need to admit the horrors of the Jim Crow era and the violence committed against black people during their fight for civil rights.

We need to admit the impact of the war on drugs on black communities.

And we need to admit that doing nothing about the current plight of the black community will only make the resulting problems worse.

That’s systemic racism.

Systemic racism is not a fiction. Systemic racism is not an excuse. Systemic racism is real and its effects hurt black communities like the one where my wife and I served.

But you may be wondering, why talk about systemic racism on a blog about being missional, that is, following Jesus in the real world?  Well, the answer is pretty straightforward — the real world is messed up and unjust and Jesus calls us to care about matters like this.  He says “blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice” (Matthew 5.6).

I know, you memorized “righteousness” as a kid.  So did I.  But “justice” is an equally valid translation of the Greek word that is found here and the context in which this word is found leans toward folks who are oppressed and thus longing for justice.

So I guess that’s really the question then…when we, as followers of Jesus in the real world, see a problem such as systemic racism, do we hunger and thirst for justice?  Or do we try to deny the evidence, invalidate the experiences of people of color, and effectively perpetuate the injustice through our silence and inaction?

What do you think about the way I defined and discussed systemic racism?

What do you think we can do about it?

What can you, as an individual, do about it?

Let me know in the comments below.

And be civil.  I will be monitoring these comments closely.  Anything that deem disrespectful, racist, or rude will be removed.

Broken Systems

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America is full of broken systems.  And many of these broken systems hurt the people who are most vulnerable and most in need.  Perhaps the most obvious examples of our broken systems seem to have something to do with race (or at least correlate with race).  The examples that are pointed to most often in the past year or so have to do with how law enforcement officers interact with people of color, such as in the situations involving Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri, Eric Garner in Staten Island, New York, and Tamir Rice in Cleveland, Ohio.

I’ve written about some of these issues before (here, here, and here,)  So why write about them again?

Reader Responses

The primary reason that I wanted to write about this issue again has to do with how people have responded to my previous posts, especially my friends who are in law enforcement or who have loved ones who are.  By and large these folks have said that my thoughts on these issues are too one-sided.

And this criticism is fair.  I have spent most of my energies discussing things from the perspective of people who live in under-resourced neighborhoods and who are typically black and Latino.

So should the other side be explored too?  Of course.  So I want to do that here.  But I want to put this conversation in its proper context.

So here’s the truth.  Law enforcement officers have incredibly difficult jobs.  Every interaction that they have with the public has the potential to be a life-threatening situation.  It makes sense then that law enforcement officers may be on edge.  It makes sense that they are often thinking about self-defense and self-preservation.

Add to these the realities the fact that under-resourced areas are policed more heavily, due primarily to more calls being put in to police dispatchers.  To make things more complicated, these neighborhoods tend to be populated primarily with blacks and Latinos.

When we plug all these variables into the equation, the result is not surprising — Latinos and blacks are disproportionately more likely to be killed by police.

Therefore, it is wrong for people to assume that all police officers are racist.  Obviously there are some that are.  But it is unfair to lump all law enforcement officers into that category.

But the problem remains, people in America with black and brown skin are much more likely to be killed by police than others.

Here’s my contention: This reality is the result of broken systems in America and law enforcement officers are the ones who get the see the results of these broken systems most clearly.

Broken Systems Should Be the Focus

When someone dies at the hands of the police, we all should take note.  We should ask questions.  We should seek justice.  We should mourn with the families involved, no matter the culpability of the deceased.  And we should lament that this horrible thing happened in the first place.

But our national focus on individual cases is detrimental because it prevents us from paying attention to the larger issues, namely the broken systems.  I want to tease this out a bit more.

When my friends who are white get uber-focused on the details of a particular case, they miss opportunities to feel with people who are hurting because of the case.  And the focus on details also prevents white people from seeing the broken systems that helped create the scenarios that led to the police-involved deaths.  (Note: I’m not saying the details are unimportant.  But should the national dialogue be about them?  There are people who should be focused on those details.  More on that to come…)

And when my friends who are black and Latino get uber-focused on the details of a particular case, they miss opportunities to address the larger issues.  This is because allowing a particular case to stand in for the larger issues of the broken systems can lead to unhelpful and distracting conversations.  And what if the particular case doesn’t have clear or available evidence?  Or, worse, what if the particular case involves a justified use of force?  Then the chance to talk about the issues that led to the problems in the first place is much less likely.

So here’s my point: Let’s focus more on the issues that lead to certain communities being under-resourced.  Let’s focus on why it is that blacks and Latinos tend to live in these communities more often than whites.  Let’s focus more on the horrid schools in under-resourced areas.  Let’s focus on how these realities help cause many of us to view black and Latino people, especially males, with suspicion.

Let’s focus on the wider and endemic issues that lead up to the negative interactions with police.

Let’s focus on the broken systems.

Law Enforcement Has Some Brokeness Too

However, we also need to focus on the way that these larger broken systems impact law enforcement officers and agencies.

Because of the realities that we face as a nation, police departments and other law enforcement agencies need extensive training about how to police under-resourced areas in the wisest ways.  There are lots of agencies who are doing a great job in this capacity or who are beginning to, such as Seattle and many others.  Law enforcement officers are the ones who get to see the realities of all these broken systems.  Therefore, they need to be trained in how to deal with these realities in the best ways possible.

Another thing that has been talked about a lot lately is that law enforcement agencies need to alter their recruiting practices so that the policing force looks more like the community they are policing.  This not the solution but it certainly could help, especially if police officers can be recruited from the community where they will be policing.

Perhaps the most important area for growth would have to be in the way that excessive force by police is investigated.  Currently, it appears that most of these cases are investigated internally by the law enforcement agencies themselves or by local prosecutors.  Both of these scenarios are very problematic since they both are wrought with conflict of interest issues.  Police investigating police is obviously problematic, especially within the same agency, and since prosecutors rely on police for help with their cases, they may not be the best folks to judge the potential misconduct of police officers either.  And since data is hard to come by and the data we have seems to indicate that police officers are not likely to be indicted or even charged with a crime when a suspect is killed, it is clear that what we are currently doing isn’t working.  What is needed is an independent office to investigate cases of excessive force.  This may help us hold our police officers more accountable for their actions when necessary.

 

 

It’s time for some change.  Our broken systems need to be fixed and it’s our job as a society to do the fixing.  Let’s call for common sense solutions (like independent investigations of excessive force).

Another common sense change is to stop is labeling all police, or all white police, as racist.  That’s simply not true and it’s certainly not helpful in these discussions.

And, lastly, we need to focus more and more on the larger broken systems that lead to the scenarios like those involving Michael Brown, Eric Garner, and Tamir Rice.

 

Thoughts?  What are some other common sense solutions that you can think of?  Share them below and keep it civil!

Grand Jury Decision in #Ferguson

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This isn’t the first time that I’ve blogged about Ferguson.  Here’s my first post about Ferguson.  And while I still stand by what I wrote there (specifically that not all people have the same experiences with police, the Church can’t be silent about issues like Ferguson, and Jesus always sided with people who were hurting and marginalized), things have changed a bit since Officer Darren Wilson was not indicted by the grand jury.

And here’s my second post about Ferguson.  And while I also stand by what I wrote there (namely that Christians in situations like the one brought on by the events in Ferguson should take time to listen, feel, stand in solidarity, and walk in community), things have changed a bit since Office Darren Wilson was not indicted by the grand jury.

The grand jury not indicting Michael Brown’s killer changed things.

The Decision by the Grand Jury Changed Things…

Or did it?

Sure, there are now protests all across the country and the response to the decision of the grand jury in Ferguson has been marked here and there by looting and violence.

But here’s the truth, the issues that Ferguson brought to the forefront for so many people of color still exist.  The decision by this grand jury has done nothing to change this.

Here are few of those issues:

  • Median household wealth — Whites 91.4k; Blacks 6.4k
  • Home ownership — Whites 72.9%, Blacks 43.5%
  • Median household income — Whites 59.8k; Blacks 35.4k
  • Unemployment rates — Whites 5.3%; Blacks 11.4%
  • Poverty rates — Whites 9.7%; Blacks 27.2%

Here are a few more issues the decision of the grand jury didn’t change:

  • “Blacks are more likely than others to be arrested in almost every city for almost every type of crime.”
  • There are pockets in the US where it’s worse than elsewhere, such as in Clayton, MO (which is near Ferguson), where black people make up 8% of the population while 57% of the people arrested in Clayton are black.
  • “Only 173 of the 3,538 police departments” examined in a particular study have arrest rates of blacks equal to or lesser than those of other groups.

And here are some more unchanged facts that the grand jury’s decision didn’t change:

  • People of color make up about 30% of the population but about 60% of the prison population.
  • 14% of black people use drugs regularly but 37% of those arrested on drug charges are black.
  • White students are over-represented in America’s colleges.
  • 4 million people of color experience housing discrimination every year.

How to Respond in Light of the Decision by the Grand Jury

So, since things haven’t really changed all that much, how are we to respond?

  1. When talking to someone who is angry about Ferguson, focus less on the facts and more on the anger and pain your conversation partner is feeling.  Having a debate with them about forensics reports, eyewitness accounts, and the like won’t get you anywhere.  Instead, talk to them about why they are feeling the way they are.
  2. Get into a posture of listening.  There’s nothing worse than a chatty Cathy whenever someone is hurting and grieving.  And, friends, many people of color are deeply pained by what’s going on in Ferguson.  It’s time that we started talking a bit less, and listening a lot more!
  3. Spend less time judging people who are doing things you may not agree with (like looting and committing acts of violence), and spend more time trying to understand what led them to a place where behaving in such a way seemed like a viable option.  Mother Teresa reportedly said that if we judge people we don’t have time to love them.  And if ever there was a time for love, it’s now!
  4. Educate yourself about issues of race and ethnicity in the US (and elsewhere!).  If you don’t know where to start, use Google.  Type in the following: “Evidence for white privilege.”  I’m sure you’ll learn a thing or two; I know I have!  Also, read some books.  Here are two suggestions that are on my to-read list: The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Era of Color Blindness by Michelle Alexander and Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption by Bryan Stevenson.
  5. Lastly, and in my opinion most importantly, diversify your friend set.  This may be difficult, but the effort will be worth it!  The single most important moment in the development of my understanding of race and ethnicity grew out of a conversation that I had with a deeply trusted friend of color.  My hope is that the same thing can happen for you!

So did the decision by the grand jury change things?  Yeah, a few.  There are more protests.  The Brown family is left with no semblance of justice.  Officer Darren Wilson will not face criminal charges.  And social media has blown up with millions of posts.

But other than those things, the system continues unabated.  The racial and ethnic divides continue to grow.  Racism of various sorts and degrees still exists.  And things are still heavily skewed in the favor of some and against others.

 

What are your thoughts?  Let me know below!  (And please keep things civil; I will watch the comments closely!)

Missional Solidarity

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During the discussions about the killing of Michael Brown, an unarmed black teenager, by Darren Wilson, a white police officer, in Ferguson, Missouri, many words and phrases have been thrown around, and not always with care.  Some of these words are pregnant with historical importance and some of them are technical words from academic studies of race and power.  Some of them sound familiar but have been said so often that their meanings have slipped into the ether.  And almost all of these words have engendered confusion and frustration in some readers and hearers.

Here are a few examples: white privilege, oppression, systemic racism, white supremacy, radical reconciliation, Jim Crow, apartheid, cultural racism, prejudice, and solidarity.

Even though each of these words demands attention, I want to focus on the last one — solidarity.

Solidarity

Every Life Matters

 

Solidarity: What Is It?

A common solution that is given for the tension in the aftermath of something like what happened in Ferguson is that various groups should stand in solidarity with one another.  What does this mean?

The dictionary definition of the word goes like this:

Unity or agreement of feeling or action, especially among individuals with a common interest; mutual support from within a group.
~Oxford Dictionaries

This term is used in many different settings and academic disciplines, such as sociology, anthropology, philosophy, religion (especially Catholic theology), race and ethnicity studies, the study of labor movements, etc.  As such, it can have many different shades of meaning.  Unsurprisingly, the usage of the word “solidarity” ramped up during the 1920s during some significant labor movements in the English-speaking world and then again from the 1950s to the 1970s during some of the most divisive decades with regard to race in the United States and in Europe.

There are two aspects of solidarity that I want to explore here: 1) what it means within Catholic theology; and 2) how the phrase “solidarity” applies to Ferguson and racial reconciliation in general.

 

Solidarity in Catholic Thought

The study of Catholic Social Teaching is rich and complex.  Whatever I say here is a simplification and I am aware of that.  However, some of the basic concepts, such as solidarity, are fairly straight forward and will hopefully prove to be helpful.

Here is one example of how solidarity is thought about in a Catholic context:

Solidarity highlights in a particular way the intrinsic social nature of the human person, the equality of all in dignity and rights, and the common path of individuals and people toward an ever more committed unity…
~Compendium of the Social Doctrine of the Church (2005), No. 192

There is so much in that quote that is worth unpacking.

  1. Each person has intrinsic value.
  2. Each person should be afforded equal dignity and rights.
  3. Individuals and people groups should be allowed to walk the path toward unity.
  4. And solidarity is one of the ways in which these things come about.

Pope John Paul II wrote often about solidarity.  Here’s a poignant section from one of his writings:

It is above all a question of interdependence, sensed as a system determining relationships in the contemporary world in its economic, cultural, political, and religious elements, and accepted as a moral category.  When interdependence becomes recognized in this way, the correlative response as a moral and social attitude, as a “virtue,” is solidarity.  This then is not a feeling of vague compassion or shallow distress at the misfortunes of so many people, both near and far.  On the contrary, it is a firm and persevering determination to commit oneself to the common good, that is to say, to the good of all and of each individual because we are all really responsible for all.
~Sollicitudo Rei Socialis, 1987, No. 38

Again, there is a ton worth noting.

  1. Solidarity is all about interdependence.
  2. Solidarity is a virtue.
  3. It is not feeling sorry for someone or for a group of people.
  4. And it’s not the feeling of pain or distress at the misfortunes of others.
  5. Solidarity is “a firm and persevering determination to commit oneself to the common good.”
  6. We’re all responsible for each other.

In other words, Cain’s timeless question (“Am I my brother’s keeper? [Genesis 4.9]) has a definitive answer — YES!  And if you aren’t convinced by Pope John Paul II’s words, that’s okay.  His words are based on the teachings of Jesus (read the parable of the Good Samaritan in Luke 10) and Paul (who explicitly says that the Spirit works among us for the “common good” in 1 Corinthians 12.7).

But importantly, feeling sorry for someone or getting sad or angry at the pain of someone else is not necessarily solidarity.  Perhaps these things are the early stages of compassion or empathy but they certainly don’t demonstrate “persevering determination”!

 

Solidarity and Ferguson

With all of these definitions and what not in mind, what’s an appropriate response to the killing of Michael Brown in Ferguson and the vast underlying issues of race and ethnicity that it brought to the fore?

Let’s start by thinking about what some inappropriate responses might be:

  1. “…………………”  We all know that silence in situations like this is wrong.  We all know that inaction is wrong.  How do we know this?  Because we all will begin making excuses as to why we’ve been silent or why we haven’t acted.  We’ll say that we don’t know the facts yet.  We’ll say that we don’t know what to do.  We’ll say that the problem is too big to deal with.  Blah, blah, blah.  Each of these excuses indicates that we know what we ought to be doing.
  2. “Get over it” or “Leave the past in the past.”  How is this attitude demonstrating a desire for the common good that the Apostle Paul talked about?  How is this demonstrating our intrinsic human interdependence?  How is this sentiment demonstrating the Christ-like attitudes of humility and concern for others (Philippians 2.1-11)?  The answer to all three questions is the same: it’s not.
  3. “That sucks for them; now where’s the next cat video?”  This response (though the last part is clearly tongue-in-cheek) is pretty common.  We see something horrible, such as the killing of Michael Brown, and we feel sad.  But we don’t want to feel sad so we try to move on quickly.  This is the “vague compassion” that John Paul II was talking about.  It doesn’t do anyone any good.
  4. “THIS %&^&$ MAKES ME ANGRY!”  Should the killing of an unarmed teenager evoke emotions?  Absolutely.  But if those emotions don’t result in action, they are pointless.  I said that very directly and I know that can sound crass and uncaring.  But it’s true.  Anger about injustice is simply not enough.

So instead, what can we do?

  1. Listen and learn.  If you’re white, talk to your friends of color.  Ask them how the situation in Ferguson makes them feel.  Ask them about what it is like being a person of color in your culture (especially if you are in a culture in which white people have tended to be in places of power).  Read books and blogs about the issue, especially those that might challenge your usual point of view.  Look again at the history of racism in the West, whether by reading some books or watching some documentaries (I highly recommend the BBC’s three-part series, History of Racism).
  2. Feel.  It’s perfectly okay to feel compassion and anger in moments like these.  In fact, these emotions can help inspire us toward action.  But don’t get stuck here…and it is easy to do so!
  3. Stand in solidarity.  With persevering determination, be committed to the common good.  Move beyond just thinking and acting on behalf of yourself, your family, and people like you.  Begin to think and act on behalf of all people, especially those different than you.  There are a thousand ways to do this, many of which are already in motion.  Do some research, find an organization you trust and love, and connect yourself with them by giving of your time, energy, and money.
  4. Walk with community.  Don’t do any of this alone.  Don’t listen and learn alone.  Don’t feel alone.  And don’t stand in solidarity alone.  Lean on each other.  Bring people different from you within your community.  Learn, grow, and act in support of the common good together.

Lastly, this issue of standing in solidarity is central to what it means to follow Jesus.  If we want to be on mission with Jesus, meaning participating in the reconciliation of all things to God in Christ through fulfilling the Great Commandment and the Great Commission, then we must stand in solidarity with those who are suffering.  Being missional without adopting the virtue of solidarity is a farce.

Why?

Because all human life matters.  And when one group of humans, such as the black community, is hurting, it is appropriate to single out how their lives matter.  Thus, black lives matter.  Let’s stand in solidarity with our black brothers and sisters in a time such as this.

 

How do you and your community stand in solidarity with those who are hurting?  Let me know in the comments below!

[[Be kind and respectful in the comments.  Anything deemed inappropriate will be removed.  Thanks.]]

Michael Brown, Ferguson, and the Police

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Michael Brown and Ferguson: Perception and the Police

When I was a child I was taught to respect the police. I often went on field trips in school to visit law enforcement stations. I always had positive interactions with the police in those settings, in my communities at large, and in general. My perception of the police as a young white man was that they were there to do their stated mission: to protect and to serve.

However, I’m becoming aware that this is not the prevailing perception of the police with everyone, especially among people of color. For various reasons that are difficult to encapsulate in any quick way, people of color, especially black Americans, often view the police as a threat and with suspicion. Some view the police as out to get them by actively profiling them. And both anecdotal stories from my black friends as well as research about the rates of arrest validate some of these concerns.

It’s in this context, the context of the perception of the police, that the story in Ferguson, Missouri of the fatal shooting of an unarmed young man named Michael Brown takes place. In other words, this story is not happening in a vacuum. This story is not happening outside the context of race and ethnicity. This story is not happening outside the realities of American history. And this story is not happening outside the decades and decades of racial tension in American cities like Ferguson.

The Church’s Response

The question that I want to wrestle with a little bit is this: what is the church’s response to situations like the one in Ferguson? What should we do?

First, we should not be silent. Churches all over America will probably not mention this story this weekend at all. Many of these silent churches will be primarily white (though it should be noted that historically black churches are sometimes silent on social issues also).

There is another piece of evidence, albeit anecdotal: my social media feeds. Despite the fact that I have numerous Christian friends online, almost none of them who are white have mentioned the story in Ferguson at all. This may be due to fear, or confusion, or whatever else. On the flip side many of my black friends, my Asian friends, and my Latino friends have been mentioning this story often. I’m sure it’s not just my social media feed that looks this way.

And, in my humble opinion, this is a disgrace. White Christians should also be involved in issues of race and ethnicity. We should stand on the side of justice. This should not be something that we ignore because it’s difficult or complicated. We should not shy away from these sorts of topics because we are scared that our white brothers and sisters may not understand where we’re coming from. And we can’t let our fears of being called “liberal” or something of that sort prevent is from standing up for what’s right.

And if the media reports are correct that Michael Brown was unarmed and that he had his hands raised whenever he was gunned down, then what happened was not right. This is true regardless of his past, his affiliations, or any other things about him. He was unarmed and his hands were raised according to reports. If those things are true then the way he died is unjust. And we Christians, all of us Christians, need to stand on the side of what’s right and just.

And second, we need to be reminded that the Jesus of the Gospels stood on the side of those who were marginalized. Specifically Jesus often went out of his way to include people who were different than him, especially the Samaritans. And we see this continuing in the book of Acts as the good news expanded outside of the bonds of Jewish ethnicity and extended into Gentile world. We read this in Paul’s letters, in the other epistles, and all throughout the Old Testament. This notion of including all people is a common theme in all of the Bible. And yet at some point we have limited the Bible to be only about me and people like me. Now that “me and people like me” in my previous sentence could be people literally like me, middle-class white people, or maybe people like you, whatever your social location.

The truth is that the gospel is not just for people like me or people like you. It is for all people. And as such those of us who claim to follow Jesus should begin to live like Jesus lived. And one of the chief ways that Jesus lived was for the other, especially the marginalized other.

Friends, in America there are marginalized people. One of the ways that people are marginalized most often is through race and ethnicity. And it is high time that we in the church took a hard stand for those who are marginalized. For whatever reason. Especially if we are white.

I would love to hear your thoughts on what I’ve written here in the comments below. But the comments need to remain civil and respectful. Any comments that I deem otherwise will be removed. Thank you for your understanding.

Half Full or Half Empty: Some Thoughts on Racism

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Nemo / Pixabay

Is this glass in the picture half full?  Or is it half empty?  (Or, if you are a nerd, do you focus on the half that’s full of a clear liquid or the half that’s full of air?)

Well, for me, it depends.  If it’s my glass, then it’s half full.  I get to enjoy several more drinks of refreshing water before having to get up and get some more!  But if you’re a guest at my house, it’s half empty and I need to get ready to bring you a refill!

In my life I find a similar sort of relativism when it comes to whether I’m an optimist or not.  When it’s my stuff, my life, the things I have leadership over, I’m usually optimistic, especially when I’m talking to others.  But if I’m looking at the situations that others find themselves in, I tend to be more pessimistic.

I find myself much more easily doubting the intentions of others rather than being honest about my own.  I’m really likely to ask for people to give me leeway for my mistakes and to point out my own progress on various issues but I’m pretty unlikely to do either for other people.

So, I don’t find it surprising that some people who have been hurt in the sticky racial climate in our country don’t want to hear from me how far I’ve come with regard to being more sensitive about ethnically-related ethics, practices, and behaviors.

But I have come a long way.  I fully imbibed the latent but polite racism that was part of the culture of my youth.  However, I always tried to fight against it.  I tried not to laugh at the racist jokes.  I tried not to use racial slurs.  I tried not to buy into the stereotypes of people of different ethnicities.  I tried to have a diverse set of friends.  I tried to lead groups in the churches where I have served to be more multi-cultural.  I have tried to stand in solidarity with those different than me.  I’ve tried to be an advocate, a support, and a freedom fighter.

I have tried.

But the folks who live in my neighborhood who are currently suffering thanks to unfair systems and structures don’t really care about how I have tried.  And my friends who when they look at themselves in the mirror wish that they could change, not their weight or hair, but their ethnicity thanks to all the pain they have suffered just by being a person of color, don’t really want to hear how I’ve tried either.  And folks who feel marginalized and unheard within Evangelical churches like my own simply because they were born within a different ethnic culture than me also don’t really care how much I’ve tried.

Is it good that I’ve tried?  Sure!  100%!

But why do I have this tendency to tell people how hard I’ve tried?  Is it white guilt, the feeling of shame and frustration that some white people feel when they see or hear about racism leveled against others by whites, whether in the present or past?  Or is it my sad effort to distance myself from those racists while ignoring some lingering racist tendencies in me?

My friend, Liz Lin, recently posted an awesome blog at The Salt Collective called “My Name is Liz Lin, and I’m Racist.”  In her piece Liz argues that we’re all racist by default.  It’s just part of what it means to be human to group people together and to make pre-judgments about them.  But Liz doesn’t leave it there.  She pushes forward, challenging us to move beyond simply accepting our own racism and that of others.  She says, “We need to actively correct ourselves — and each other.”

And Liz is right!  But as we do this active correction of ourselves and others, let’s not parade it around for everyone to see!  Instead of using some of my energy to tell others, especially those who don’t look like me, how much I’ve tried and how far I’ve come, I’d rather use that same energy to continue to treat people of other ethnicities with dignity and grace, just like I would like to be treated!

So let’s get a little less “the glass is half full” with this issue.  Instead, let’s admit that the glass is broken and the refreshing water that was supposed to be delivered to us all has spilled all over the table and is dripping onto the floor.  Now let’s work together, across all of our divisions (ethnicity, socio-economics, gender, education, etc.) to build a new vessel to hold water…and then let’s tip it over and shower those in the most need with the life-giving water of the good news of the kingdom of God!

Here’s a book by Efrem Smith that is full of helpful resources and thoughts about being missional and multiethnic: The Post-Black, Post-White Church: Becoming the Beloved Community in a Multi-Ethnic World.