George Floyd by Lukas Carlson, 2020. Photograph: Lukas Carlson
I just got back from my first protest. At 44 years old, it shouldn’t have been my first one but better late than never I guess. There were under 100 people—a very diverse group in ethnicity and age. We walked a couple miles while chanting. Walked by a police precinct where we stopped on the corner and chanted George Floyd’s and Breonna Taylor’s names. One of the leaders wanted to walk up to the precinct doors, the other organizer said “No, this is a peaceful protest, and we don’t even want to give them a reason.” So we kept walking. As we chanted “No justice no peace, Know justice know peace,” I felt a deeper connection to the injustice than I ever have before. I began to feel sadness and then a twinge of rage. I thought to myself: I feel so strongly about this and it’s not even my experience of my life. I don’t know anyone personally who has been wrongfully killed. I can’t imagine if I did. I can’t imagine the rage that I would feel. If over and over and over my rights were violated and no one seemed to notice or care. And then multiply that over a lifetime and multiple generations of having this be your experience, I wondered what would I feel like. It’s hard to comprehend. Black people have had a knee on their neck for a long time. It shouldn’t take a knee on the neck for us to hear the cries of our black brothers and sisters.
So I decided to put some reflections down when I got back from the protest. They are haphazard. They are rough. They might be said in the wrong way. They might use the wrong terms. Many of the ideas are from people I’ve read or videos I’ve watched. They will probably offend some and encourage others. Here goes.
Reflection #1:
I’m not as woke as I thought I was.
A quote I read last week really dismantled me:
“If your outrage about the loss of a Target is greater than or equal to your outrage over George Floyd’s murder, there’s a problem.”
BOOM. I had definitely been outraged over the murder of George Floyd but then I was also upset about the burning and looting and riots in the days following. Was it equal? They were damn close. How could I be more upset over the destruction of property and stealing than I was over the plain sight middle of the day murder of an innocent man?!? I was shocked and embarrassed. How could this be? What is wrong with me? So this thought came to me:
I’m not as woke as I thought I was.
I’m just beginning to understand that I don’t understand.
But I want to understand. I know I might not ever fully understand because I’m white. But I want to get as close to understanding as possible for someone whose story is different than mine.
I always thought I understood better than most white people. I played basketball in high school. I listened to rap and hip hop. I DJ’ed in college. I always thought I was on the “inside” of the race issue. I was wrong. It is like I was playing in a baby pool on the landside of a big hotel at the beach. Content with myself. Thinking I was doing pretty good. These last few weeks have taken me by the hand and led me around where I saw the ocean. This is bigger than I ever thought or imagined.
Reflection #2:
Anti-racism is different than non-racism.
With anti-racism, you don’t have to pretend to be free of racism. You just have to be committed to fight racism wherever you find it, including in yourself. In myself.
Am I actively seeking to interrupt and disrupt racism in my context? wherever that may be.
When I refuse to accept racism of any form, I can be a small part of the solution.
Reflection #3:
It IS about color.
The goal is not to be colorblind or not to see color. This is not the solution. I sure hope you do see color. How will you get to know someone’s story? People’s color is part of who God made them to be. It’s majestic in everyone. The color of our skin is part of our reality, part of our experience. And if someone’s skin is different than yours, they most likely have a much different life experience. It’s part of who they are.
If you don’t see color, how will you see racism???
Instead of “I don’t see color,” how about we change it to: “I see your color and I honor you. I value you. I listen to you. I want to know about your experience. I will work against any system or structure that oppresses you. Help me know how to do better. I want to listen and learn.”
Reflection #4:
We must sit before we stand.
We as white people must sit and be quiet and listen and learn.
This is about the posture of our heart. It’s about the habit of our heart.
When I’ve traveled overseas, I’ve had the attitude of humility and curiosity and to love first. When I went to the Middle East, China, Africa, Brazil, and other places I would intentionally listen before speaking and seek to understand before seeking to be understood. And almost everyone is very gracious and forgiving when you come into relationships with that posture. I didn’t realize I wasn’t employing those same attitudes with the people that I should have been with most of all—right here in the U.S. with my brothers and sisters of color.
“If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.“
— Archbishop Desmond Tutu
Reflection #5:
I must resist autopilot with everything I have.
We need to get off of autopilot. I need to get off autopilot. Autopilot is dangerous. Autopilot is a big part of my problem. Autopilot directs me towards comfort. It directs me towards reacting like I’ve always reacted. It directs me to avoid confrontation. It directs me to indifference.
“We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented. The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference.” — Elie Wiesel
Reflection #6:
The narrative of hate will not win. We won’t let it. We cannot let it.
There was someone else who died a death of asphyxiation. He also died unjustly at the hands of oppressors. He also died as an innocent man not deserving of death. His death did not pass as meaningless. It wasn’t futile. That narrative of darkness, of hate, of evil winning seemed to have won. At least on Friday and Saturday it did. But there was a counter narrative. One of hope. One of peace. One of grace. One of forgiveness. One of love. And on Sunday, it was this narrative that actually won. We discovered that the counter narrative was actually the real narrative all along. The way of love is the only way forward. We are in a Friday and Saturday moment. But Sunday is coming.
So what now?
Change doesn’t start with your actions.
Change starts in your heart.
Change starts in my heart.
Here is an incomplete list of actions (mostly for me):
- Listen
- Learn
- Reflect
a. One of my friends Allan says we have a choice to deflect or reflect?? There are lots of ways to do both. Which one will you do?
b. Ask myself: What’s not in my life that should be in my life that would help me be a constructive part of change? What do I need to do differently so this bias towards action doesn’t go away? - Support my black friends. There have been a bunch that have been willing to walk with me in my process these last few years. A special thank you to those friends of color (Jael, Shanay, Allan, Jason, Sophia, and others) for your patience, grace, love, truth, honesty, and courage with me in our friendship. I’ll still need more help.
- Speak out—any way possible. I think social media might be the least effective but where can we make sure that we are not silent?
- Ask the question Where can I interrupt the system of racism in my context?
- Do something. Keep stumbling and muddling through it. Keep moving forward. Ask myself what is the way of love?
I know I’ve said some stuff wrong in this reflection. I’m sure I’ve stepped on some toes or been insensitive. But enough is enough. I’m not going to stay silent in fear of saying something the wrong way. I have been guilty of the sins of silence, indifference, and apathy long enough.
“The ultimate tragedy is not the oppression and cruelty by the bad people but the silence over that by the good people.” — Dr Martin Luther King Jr.
I want to end this reflection with a quote from a white dude. Because if I end with a quote from MLK or Nelson Mandela or another person of color it’s easy to think—that’s them. That’s their issue. That’s their problem. But this is us. This is our problem. Racial justice is a human rights issue. If you are human, then this is your issue. We must stand with our brothers and sisters. But first we sit. And listen. And learn.
This is from William Lloyd Garrison in the 1800’s, a 21 year-old white man whose faith compelled him to stand up to the most powerful evil institution of the day—slavery. I think this might be 1/billionth of what our black friends have been feeling.
“I am aware, that many object to the severity of my language; but is there not cause for severity? I will be as harsh as truth, and as un-compromising as justice. On this subject, I do not wish to think, or speak, or write, with moderation. No! no! Tell a man whose house is on fire, to give a moderate alarm; tell him to moderately rescue his wife from the hands of the ravisher; tell the mother to gradually extricate her babe from the fire into which it has fallen; – but urge me not to use moderation in a cause like the present. I am in earnest- I will not equivocate- I will not excuse- I will not retreat a single inch- AND I WILL BE HEARD.”