Experiencing racism is harder than, you know, talking about it.
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A couple of days ago I spent an hour with about twenty Christian leaders, most of them white, to talk about some anti-racism work we're doing with their organization. After sharing for a few minutes, my colleague and I opened it up for questions.
A few of the white leaders, while affirming their commitment to the work, talked about how some of the language we had used made them feel uncomfortable. They worried that by so clearly talking about white racism we might be positioning people of color against white people in the organization. They were also concerned that some white people who might otherwise be open to this work would be put off by having the focus on racial divisions directed so precisely at white people. They wondered, won't white people retreat in shame?
A couple of weeks ago an article in Chicago Tribune discussed some new studies that track the impact of of violence on people's social networks and physical health.
Christopher Lee was 15 years old when he was shot May 14, 2016, while on his bike outside his East Garfield Park home. Now 18, Lee was shot in the back, arm and chest, and was in the hospital for six days, where he had two surgeries in addition to staples and stitches. To this day, he said, he still has a bullet in his chest.
And he’s still not over the shooting. He doesn’t play basketball in parks anymore — only in gyms. Taking the CTA makes him nervous. And when friends invite Lee to a party, he declines.
We know that rates of violence are greater within impoverished and systematically isolated communities and we know that race is a defining factor when it comes to poverty and segregation. I thought about the meeting with denominational leaders as I read this article. I understand those white leaders' reactions and concerns, I really do. I've felt them myself. Yet how are we to compare these emotions with the actual physical burden of racism?
This is one of the challenges of racial reconciliation work whenever white people are part of the mix. We have been so accustomed to our emotions and responses being prioritized that the decision to focus on the lived realities of those who experience racism makes us... uncomfortable. Nervous. Ashamed. In many ways it is an alien experience.
I don't have an universal answer for this. In the context of our church I've chosen to always prioritize the well-being of people of color over white people's emotions, though I'm sure I've missed that mark more than I'll ever know. But I struggle in these other spaces where the focus is on white people taking strides toward racial justice. How do we keep white people at the table while never, for a moment, downplaying the actual experiences of people of color?
My instinct has been to begin with pointing out this troubling dynamic. By describing this tension out loud we can, perhaps, make it clear that one person's feelings about racism will never be more important than another's experience of it.
I'd love to hear how you've engaged this tension. Have you found a way to thread this needle?
This Friday Pastor Michelle Dodson and I are joining a few other pastor teams for this discussion hosted by Missio Alliance. You can register for free and learn more here.