My Evolving Views on Race, Part IV

 In trying to explain why she couldn't preach outrage over the Trayvon Martin verdict, Nadia Bolz-Weber states, ". .. I could not with any integrity 'stand my  own ground against violence and racism---not because I no longer believed in standing against these things (I do!), but because my own life and my own heart contain too much ambiguity."

"Ambiguity" is precisely what I feel after the Derek Chauvin verdict---not an ambiguity that says "I don't care" but an ambiguity that says I feel deeply for everyone.   I feel strongly that Chauvin was guilty of murder.  I feel strongly about Black Lives Matter.  But, I also am supportive of our police officers.  There would be no celebration regardless of the jury's verdict but a profound sadness for both sides. The verdict will not bring George Floyd back to life.   As Pastor MP said this morning at our Thursday morning discussion, "Derek Chauvin is still a child of God." 

This sad ambiguity is what I feel anytime race is discussed. When I was much younger, I felt the outrage.  I taught the protest songs, the Harlem poets, Black literature.  But, I am older, more experienced and hopefully wiser now. Even during that protest period I realized that a white woman teaching black literature was in some ways condescending---that I had appropriated a culture and a cause that was not my own.

After DNA analysis, it is with some satisfaction I say, "I descend from African slaves."  But after careful genealogical research, I can also say, "I descend from a woman who moved with her slaves into Missouri."  Both statements are true.  In my family history, I have slaves and slave-holders.  I know there are those that say, "it is in our country history"  or "many of us have that in our history, move on".  Until you see the evidence in black and white, you can't know the impact both of those statements have on me, an American.  

Even knowing these facts for several years has not smoothed out the jagged edges of being descended from slave and slave holder.  In some respects, it has become even more difficult to live with.  Recently the Black Lives Matter movement has made me aware of "white privilege".  This made me hurt even more.  Cousins who descended from the same slave I descended from have hurt for many more generation than my family has.  I've traced my line back to the early 1800s,  and they were already passing for white. They had some of that "white privilege" working for them.   And, this hurts me to the bone: knowing that cousins suffered for hundreds of years longer than my family did.

So, how did my family live "white".  First, mixed race was not a big deal in Colonial America.  There simply were not enough European people around.  My earliest known mixing of race was in the late 1600's---English and Native American.  I even qualify for the Jamestown Society based on that family.  But sometime after the Revolution when slavery became more of a political issue, being mixed race was not something talked about.  Many families congregated together forming their own settlements because they didn't really fit in with European, Native American or African communities. (for more on this, click here) Those who favored the European side moved on and passed for white.  During the Jim Crow era, they weren't allowed to be mixed race so they didn't talk about it.  One drop of African blood made them Black. Period.

I inherited West African DNA from my grandmother who was "orphaned" at a young age and didn't know much about her family.  See, it is that easy. Stories, rumors, suspicions are forgotten.  I don't know if my mother suspected. Although she grew up in Arkansas, went bare-foot and spoke with a Southern drawl she would not allow disparaging words about Blacks.  "Your grandpa's best friends have always been Black"  "Growing up, we saw no difference in Black and White---we all just played together."

That is what would make me happy---not taking sides, but just playing together as they did when Mother was a child.  Endless discussions about racism in America give me anxiety because I feel like I should take a stance.  But the stance I want is one that would make no one in that discussion happy.  I want to live in a community where we live side-by-side, go to churches which are integrated, where the children playing on the playground have a range of skin tones.  I want to live in a community where people are judged by their thoughts and not by their skin color. I want to live in a place where people of color can live without fear of being pulled over for simple traffic violations.  

And the slave holding ancestress?  Bringing slaves into a border state was a terrible idea around the Civil War.  She had several children she could live with in eastern Missouri.  She did not choose to live with my ancestor but his brother, Sam.  During the Civil War, Yankee vigilantes arrested Sam and executed him for having slaves.  No trial, no explanation---it was clear that if Sam had slaves, he supported the Confederacy.  (click here and scroll down to Samuel Long) The vigilantes?  They were Germans who had recently emigrated and settled around Big River. I descend from one of those too.  I scream "American".  

For Part III, click here

For Part II, click here

For Part I, click here

Intentional vs. Accidental

 In our Thursday morning church discussion last week of Nadia Bolz-Weber's book Accidental Saints, several in the discussion indicated that intentionally being Christian was important to them.  How could they do that and be an "accidental saint", someone who stumbles into being Christ-like?

As a teacher, I would compare it to my teaching.  I intentionally made daily lesson plans with goals, objectives, activities, but occasionally a student would ask a question that to answer it would keep me from achieving those daily goals.  I would have to weigh it --- stick to my intentional plan or shut my plan book and teach a whole new lesson---an accidental lesson.  This is called a "teachable moment"---giving the lesson that is needed not the one that was planned.

I often had this situation when I was teaching English as Second Language.  The students would ask a  language question  or cultural question not in my plan book.  One year I was teaching in a district that was so rigid that they didn't really support the "teachable moment".  All material to be copied needed to be submitted a week in advance, had to be approved by the principal---no exceptions.  So, if a family of 3 from Taiwan moved into the district, I couldn't have work for them because I had only 10 copies that had been pre-approved 10 days earlier.  But, even worse was not being able to teach to the questions that popped up almost daily.  I by-passed the red tape by getting copies at Kinko's, paying for them myself (and ultimately finding another district to work in).

Can you imagine a baseball team manager playing a game intentionally without allowing the accidental.  They would print up the roster and could not change it.  If a player became injured, wasn't playing well, or thrown out of the game, the game would have to be played as"intended." Or a coach who can't  change the game plan?

Most of us aren't teachers or baseball managers but practicing Christians.  We can have a plan each morning to read the Bible, pray before meals, donate food to Circle of Concern, but if we don't keep our hearts open, we've missed the point.  The difficult conversation about race may help you understand your neighbor better. The telephone call interrupting your Bible study may be helping a friend who needs a listening ear.  Letting someone ahead of you on Manchester Road on your way to Circle may help a mother running late picking her child up on time. Paying it forward at McDonald's may help the man who just realized he left his wallet at home.   All are opportunities to put our Christian principles to work without knowing it ahead of time..  By deviating from our intentional practices, getting out of our comfort zone, we can often become the saints we want to be:  accidental saints.

Star Word: Justice

 My 2020 star word  was "Unwind"

Looking forward for something

 I could do at home---

Just me—-

I asked for 2021 word hoping for just the same. . . 

But no.  “Justice”

How can I do this at home alone? 

I can't go out in crowds, non-fiction bores me,

Blood pressure can't handle disagreements.

Listening to Amanda, I began to understand:

"Justice" can be my platform, my stand.

It's not just me or just them but just us.

Working together, even while living my alone life.

If my foundation is "Justice”, I can stand,

And fight at home with words. 

Don't need to justify or argue— just stand

for what is just and true—Justice.

Angel 2020

 

Angel heralding my joy for Christmas:

Trumpeting for all to gather

To celebrate Christ’s birth—

Elegantly swaying in the breeze

Waltzing in the wind.

Found one morning in a heap.

The wind knocked out of her.

Pieces scattered.

Rainy and cold, I try to help. . . .

The wind is too strong, too biting.

Brought into the garage, a refuge from the wind,

To re-assemble,

To warm my hands,

to gather my thoughts.

With pliers, zip ties, stakes,

She stands again, but. . . .

She’s changed. 

She has her battle scars, but

She also has changed her attitude.

She is sassy, challenging.

Blown over by the winds,

She leans a little—

her dance has changed , 

her wings outstretched—jazz wings.

Still playing her trumpet, but more Louis Armstrong 

And less Gabriel.

Stand back.

Keep your distance.

Dancing by myself.

Challenging the world,

But, dancing.

Celebrating Christ's birth

Alone,

But, dancing.

Reading on YouTube

 

Several months ago, our daughter asked me to read a book to her children using YouTube.  Since I haven’t spent much time with them this past year, nor can I visit them in their new home, I agreed to give it a try.

First, I needed to buy a tripod for my phone with a halo light—plenty available on Amazon at a reasonable cost.  We also agreed on a book on Eli's reading list— Number the Stars by Lois Lowry—not terrible long and it was one I had previously read.  As a high school student, I had been active in Interpretive reading of poetry and prose—even winning a medal for my reading of William Blake poetry.  I felt like this was a good fit for me since I had also been a secondary reading teacher.

Because my “audience” was grandchildren ages 13-5, I had to explain vocabulary from time to time.  Then, I got the idea to teach them “think-alouds”.  That’s reading a story out loud but also saying the thoughts that run through a person’s head while reading:  making comparisons, asking questions, predicting,  commenting.  Every now and then, I inserted family stories like describing the time I went shopping with my grandmother to look at store-bought dresses.

I had already posted very short videos to YouTube over the years, but this would be my first time recording long pieces.  First thing I had to change was my make up—I had to buy some under eye cover up.  I decided for my first book to record all around the house—I thought the kids would enjoy my constantly changing but familiar chair.  Soon, I realized some places were better than others.  Straight back was better than an easy chair and having the tripod right in front of me was better than across the room.  

My biggest problem was recording in a place which didn’t have the dryer going off, the phone ringing or neighbors walking their dog behind me in the window so the dog could do his “business”.  The halo light has really helped with lighting on cloudy days.  Although I had 3 kinds of light, the soft light seemed to be the most flattering.  But, I needed a controlled environments which I’m still searching for. LOL

While reading Number the Stars to the grandchildren, I was reading Lilac Girls for my own “pleasure” which was too much World War II and the Holocaust.  So, when I finished Number the Stars, I moved on to something lighter—— A Long Way From Chicago by Richard Peck which has a wonderful cast of characters and a lot of humor with main characters being Grandma Dowdle and her two grandchildren visiting from Chicago—Mary Alice and Joey.

I realized by this time, reading to the grandkids was “good” for me.  i dressed carefully for the camera, put make up on each day, and curled my hair.  While reading in other rooms, I realized my husband was listening and chuckling at the right places. So, I moved to the room he was in, so he could listen easier.  It became a part of our daily routine before lunch—something to look forward to.

OK, reading was good for me, entertaining for my husband, but what about the grandkids?  Leah reports listening to me read at lunch has become some of their favorite times of the day.  Click here for all of my videos, or below for the first one.