30 Days of Love: Day Four

Who Are Our Neighbors: The Race Story ReWrite Project

I remember sitting in the Young Adult Caucus room one afternoon during "Justice General Assembly" in the summer of 2012. Project Reflection. We had a guest speaker come in to help us reflect on the "Doctrine of Discovery," and its effect on the indigenous people in the United States. I remember how he challenged us that day. "Justice GA" that year was focused on the issue of immigration, and our tradition's presence there turned into one of social witness. That afternoon, we were given the challenge of thinking about where the conversation around immigration really starts. We were told that if we really wanted to have a full conversation around immigration, if we wanted to consider the whole story, we needed to first begin with the experience of the indigenous people of this land when European colonists first began to claim America as their own.

That challenge has stayed with me since that summer. And today's theme, which invites us to consider and rewrite the stories we tell of our collective history brought it to the forefront of my mind. When I think back to the stories I learned about our history, especially US History, I realize that they are usually told from one point of view. There's the expression "history is always written by the victors," and often those victors paint the story in such a way that ignores or discredits the suffering of their "opponents." Colonialism was a gift in history, the indigenous people were a threat to the growth of the colonies, the "founding fathers" fought for freedom with no mention of their participation in the horrors of slavery. When we look at those stories in a new light, we change the conversation, not just around history, but around the issues we continue to struggle with today. In reflecting on the words of Dr. King yesterday, one of the most powerful pieces of his speech against the Vietnam War was his acknowledgment of the suffering of the Vietnamese people because of the actions of the US military. He dared to tell the story from a different point of view.

In her reflection this morning, Dayna Edwards speaks about inclusion and inter-connectedness as the reasons why we must learn to rewrite the stories we tell. She tells us that in order to heal, we need to be more honest and willing to name the "atrocities of colonialism, slavery, Jim Crow, segregation, and current racism." But she cautions us to not just focus on the negative pieces, but to write stories of survival that can empower communities today. She reminds us that to move towards healing and forgiveness, we cannot rewrite these stories in a way that ignores the fact that "racism is a disease that afflicts and affects both the offender and the offended." That is not an easy task, but it is indeed a necessary one. The purpose of rewriting our stories, of bearing witness to the oppression in our past and present, is not to vilify. It does us no good to create new reasons to hate or divide. The purpose of rewriting these stories is to move towards wholeness. By using the gifts of forgiveness, humility, and love, we can begin to be honest with ourselves about what has happened to and through all of us in the past. By recognizing the effects of these truer stories on the present, we can begin to heal the brokenness that every one of us experiences in systems built upon discrimination and oppression.

The prompt for this fourth day also included a link to the UU curriculum "Who Are Our Neighbors," describing it as a program intended to "heal racial divides." The name of this curriculum reminded me of a video for a sermon delivered at Middle Collegiate Church on July 14, 2013. Interestingly enough, this sermon re-entered my life just two days ago, after I followed a chain of links from Day Two's reflection invitation. In this sermon, titled "Are You My Neighbor?," Adriene Thorne spoke very poignantly and honestly about the recent "not guilty" verdict in the trial of George Zimmerman for the murder of 17-year-old Trayvon Martin. Weaving in reflections on the parable of the Good Samaritan, words from Toni Morrison, and the paradoxical limitations yet potential of human nature, her sermon challenges us to consider not only "who are our neighbors?" but also how we respond to our neighbors when to love them feels like an impossible task. In one part of this sermon, she says:

"There's no artistry in hate. But there is great artistry in love. What if George Zimmerman had been an artist, like the Good Samaritan? What if we were? As creative beings made in the image of a holy god, we are capable of great artistry in love. When we consider the beauty, the sheer beauty, wrought with the human hand and voice - the literature, the music, the scientific breakthroughs, the business medical, and agricultural triumphs, can we not also consider the numerous creative human responses that have met hatred with love?"

On this day, as we re-imagine the stories we tell about race from our history, her message reminds me of the need to also consider the ways in which we view and tell the stories of today. How are we telling the story of Trayvon Martin's murder? How are we telling the story of the thousands of black and brown men who are unjustly targeted by "law enforcement" and "court system" officials simply because of the way they look? How are we telling the story of the thousands who have died in a senseless collection of wars and military attacks overseas? How would you tell the story of the child in a Philadelphia public school who does not have a nurse to go to when she has an asthma attack or a textbook for any of her classes? How would you tell the story of the thousands of people who are losing access to necessary healthcare because of Medicaid cuts? How would you tell the story of the families who are forced apart because of a corrupt and broken immigration system? How do we tell these stories in a way that bears witness to the injustices experienced, that demands changes to the systems and cultures that feed their continuation, but does not encourage hatred towards the groups or individuals who have contributed to them?

Are we brave enough to tell those stories in ways that are honest about the suffering experienced by our neighbors? Are we willing to take the risk of being criticized and rejected to show new windows into these unjust pieces of our present? And are we willing to recognize the brokenness that every person experiences within these stories? Are we creative enough to still show love for all of our neighbors? Are we creative enough to write new narratives, ones in which we heal with love, rather than continue the division of hatred?

“Are You My Neighbor?” :: Jul 14 @middlechurch from Middle Collegiate Church on Vimeo.

30 Days of Love: Day Three

Day Three: How Far Have We Really Come?

"Our growth as religious people happens when we engage with pain--our pain and the pain of others--in ways that help us expand compassion and a deep sense of our interconnectedness."

~ UU Metro NY District, "Contemporary Racial Inequity: A Statement of Faith"

Today we honor Martin Luther King, Jr., a man (and in my opinion, prophet) who gave his life to challenging systems of racial injustice, and inspiring others to do the same. Dr. King lived during a time when racial injustice was practiced openly - it was the visual norm of our society. Many argue that things have changed, that such racism and the devaluation, the dehumanization, of people of color is a problem of our past. But is it?

Today we are asked to read a statement from the UU Metro NY District (linked above), released in July after the verdict of the George Zimmerman trial. We are asked to read "Building a New Racial Justice Movement," an article from Colorlines that describes the new work that needs to be done if we are to truly bring healing and an end to systemic racial injustice in our world. There is a call to no longer be afraid to name the injustices we see for what they are, to understand that this fight goes beyond legislation to practices embedded in our social and economic culture, and to embrace the need for solidarity by joining our individual movements into collective action.

The words in this statement and article, their calls for all people to commit themselves to justice, are not new. They are echoes of what has been said by leaders and members of civil rights movements for decades. The need to remain committed is a need that has been voiced time and time again. As part of today's reflection, we are also invited to watch or read Dr. King's "I Have a Dream" speech. His words, in this speech and others, are sadly equally, if not more relevant today. The injustices he describes are still present today, though some may wear a new mask. The "bad check" he speaks of, the "defaulted on" "promissory note" within our Constitution has not yet been rectified.

Racial injustice has not gone away, it has simply found new ways to stay alive, deeply embedded in systems that are framed to "protect." When we see the disparities in income, housing, healthcare, education, criminal prosecution, employment, wealth, it is impossible to deny that there is still much more work that needs to be done. When we see cultural misappropriation in the media, and the subsequent disregard and disrespect for the voices that dare to point out its devaluation of entire peoples, it is impossible to deny that there is still much more work that needs to be done. Work that we as individuals are capable of completing in our everyday lives. Work that we as members of a religious movement are called to pursue if we are to live out the principles of our faith. Work that as a human family must commit ourselves to if we want to heal the divisions that prevent us from being whole.

"But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. So we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice." ~ Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

What are you willing to do to join the movement for change?

30 Days of Love: Day One

Today's Question: Why do we want to be multicultural?

On Saturday morning I posted the following response on the Facebook Group I opened up to my home congregation in Philadelphia. 

We each see the world through the window of our own individual lives. But that's not the whole picture, and we will never understand the full reality (and potential beauty) of the world if we don't connect to people whose windows show a different story. Being multicultural lets us expand our understanding of what is possible, what is just, what needs to be changed, what more we can celebrate. By creating a multicultural community, we take down harmful assumptions, form new pathways for learning and loving, build relationships that strengthen our commitment to necessary anti-oppression efforts, and come to expand our understanding of our "self" as interconnected and inseparable from the stories of those around us. Being multicultural helps us better understand ourselves in relationship to the world, and the ways in which we are called to transform it into a "community with peace, liberty, and justice for all."

That is only my partial answer. While I agree wholeheartedly with what I posted, there are a few more thoughts I would like to share that are more suitable to my own personal blog.

I feel like it cannot be said enough - multiculturalism is not about diversity for diversity's sake. Yet, we can so often become easily trapped in that mindset of achieving "diversity" without actually considering why it is a necessary element of the ever-sought-after beloved community. And when our understanding of the "why" is missing, our efforts, though well-intentioned on the surface, are misguided, ungrounded, and lazy. Frankly, if we do not have a reason to build multicultural communities besides "diversity is good" or "multiculturalism is good," than we should not be trying to build them. Not yet, anyways. But unfortunately, this mindset is one that I have encountered on a few too many occasions, and it leaves me feeling as though some communities see "cultures" as something to collect. Difference becomes a commodity, and what can at first feel like appreciation for one's experience turns out to be tokenism for the sake of another's desire to feel good about including "other" people. The result is pain, frustration, and disappointment for all members of the community. Some might wonder what they are doing wrong. "We believe everyone is welcome!" they exclaim with confusion. "Diversity is one of our guiding principles!" Some might wonder if they will ever find a community committed to inclusion. "I thought this place would be different," they sigh with fatigue. "I thought the people here would actually listen."

So why do we want to be multicultural? My answer is as simple as it is difficult. To heal. For so long, we have been divided into groups that create an "us" and a "them;" categories that create a sense of competition for allegedly limited resources; identities that are assigned different levels of worth within systems designed to maintain the power and privileges of certain "kinds" of people over others. Our social structures were not originally built to encourage connection and appreciation between these groups, categories, or identities. Instead, many were created to separate and isolate, generating and perpetuating a fear of the "other" that encouraged a culture of protection from anyone who was different from oneself. For those with greater social and economic power, these structures and this culture of protection worked, and continue to work, in their favor - they maintain a privileged position in society and can define its rules, its norms...and its alleged threats. For those on the other end of the spectrum, they are faced with a history and mentality that automatically defines them as lesser beings, and social structures that ensure they are treated that way.

For many of us, what I have just described is nothing new. It is "oppression 101," and if you're reading this blog, chances are you've heard me use the aforementioned "p-words" countless times. Many of you have probably used them yourselves. So how can multicultural community help to bring the healing needed to end these oppressive divisions? Why do we need multiculturalism to change these power-protecting structures? Because without true multicultural community, we would never know the depth of impact these structures have. Without true multicultural community, we would never need to look within ourselves and understand what role we play in allowing those divisions to continue on - what responsibility we have in bringing them to an end. Multiculturalism brings us the healing we need by allowing another person's story to change how we understand ourselves. That may sound a bit counter-productive and self-centered, but it is a necessary part, and result, of true multicultural community. Our interactions with people whose stories are different from our own challenge the assumptions in our daily narratives, add a layer to our identity that is in relationship to those around us with different windows on the world, and push us to reconsider how our attitudes and behaviors may not be as inclusive as we once thought. "Multiculturalism is good" when we are willing to let the diversity of experiences within our community teach us, grow us, change us, even dismantle us. Rather than see that process as a destructive one that takes apart the individual, we need to reframe it as a constructive one that builds the individual in community.

One of my favorite poems is On Being Woven by the Sufi poet Rumi. While the entire poem speaks to the importance of human relationship and companionship, it is the very first line that captures the essence of multicultural community.

"The way is full of genuine sacrifice."

The healing we require in this world demands genuine sacrifice within the context of multicultural communities. Until we are willing to sacrifice our preconceived notions of what is justice, our false self-assurance that we are in no way contributing to systems of oppression, and our belief that we are too good or learned to carry harmful assumptions, we will not heal those divisions. Until we are willing to sacrifice the power and privilege that we have when we encounter someone in our community whose story shows us that we do in fact benefit from a system that holds them down, we will not heal those divisions. Until we are willing to sacrifice the comfort of a community that accepts the status quo for the challenge of a community committed to the struggle of taking down the status quo, we will not heal those divisions. This idea of sacrifice does involve taking a risk on behalf of another's well being, and it does involve accepting a loss for the sake of someone beyond oneself. But what we lose through this genuine sacrifice is not our inherent worth or even our security. What we lose is the mindset that there is, as described by Anita Farber-Robertson, "a scarcity of the holy," a scarcity of love.

For me, the question is not "Why do we want to be multicultural?" The question is "Why do we need to be multicultural?" Our personal and spiritual development depends on the commitment to let ourselves be changed by stories different from our own. Our efforts to create a world community of "peace, liberty, and justice for all" require that we continually build relationships with people who will show us the ways in which we have been compliant to systems that divide and oppress. We need multiculturalism if we hope to move forward together, sacrificing our individual and competitive goals for the sake of generating communal and cooperative ones. We need multicultural community if we hope to be fully invested in the struggle to end injustice. We need multicultural community to heal.