I’m glad that this white father of an African-American daughter is conscious of these issues, and cares about his daughter’s self-image. Still, I long for the day when we as white people will stop feeling like we get to be the ones to give black women ‘permission” to call the hair God gave them “beautiful” . . .

I was in the food court at the mall, and because I was still recovering from my ankle surgery last year, I was maneuvering with the help of Speed Racer. Sara had Elijah and was getting herself settled with him, and I was trying to get Chinese food and make my way back to the table. Yes, on one leg and while trying to maneuver a tray of food.

An African-American woman at the next counter over saw me struggling and had compassion on me. She told her son (who was about 9 or 10) to come over and offer to help me, which he did.

I was not paying attention to my surroundings, as usual, and so did not notice this sweet young man coming up to me until he was right next to me. When I realized he was trying to speak to me, I jumped . . . as I was trying to get his words to translate from my ears to my brain (something I tend to have trouble with under any circumstances), I looked at him with a panicked, forced smile and shook my head while sputtering something like, “no, thank you, I’ve got it, but I appreciate the offer”. I think I then said something about how I was shaking my head “yes” while saying “no” with my mouth–something like, “I know that I’m shaking my head the opposite of what I am saying”–but I don’t know. maybe I’m not remembering that part correctly.

I know I am remembering the forced, automatic and fake smile, though. My facial muscles still ache with self-condemnation every time I think about it.

I have so many excuses for why I jumped out of my skin when he approached me. Primary among those is the fact that having both ADHD and PTSD means that I both zone out easily and startle easily. One of my coworkers, after having seem me react that way one time too many, has taken to using very deliberate footsteps when she approaches me. I hate when I am jumpy like that, because it is never in any way the fault of the person who has (unintentionally) startled me, but people quite often take it personally.

But I have no excuse. This sweet, polite young man had absolutely no  reason to interpret the look of terror in my eyes, combined with the fake, plastered smile and meaningless words, as anything other than what I fear it really was.For this young man, and for his mother, my personal history was not even a factor. I am certain that they could only assume I was reacting in that over-exaggerated way because of a fear or a distrust of black men. How could it be interpreted any other way?

I still wish to this day that I had gone back to them and said something. I sometimes fantasize that I’ll somehow run into them again and will be able to make my apology, even though I barely remember what they looked like anymore. And I don’t want to give a complicated justification for my actions–”It’s unconscious–it’s a learned response”, blah blah blah, shut up, Lorraine . . . I just want to tell him how very, very sorry I am.

All I know is that in that moment, I wounded the heart of that little boy, and somehow sent the message that, no matter how many kind things he might do in his life, that there are always going to be white women reacting in unfounded fear at the very sight of him. And as I sat down for dinner with my own precious brown-skinned godson Elijah sitting next to me, my heart broke at the thought that he too will grow up in a world where people will instinctively and automatically jump in fear when they see him coming . . . even if he is the sweetest little boy in the world, and even if he comes with the most altruistic of motives . . . because at the end of the day, the inheritance we’ve all carried down through the years is one of mistrust, of irrational fear, and of unconscious, yet immediate judgments based on appearance.

I do not want Elijah to have to face the reality that I subjected this boy to . . . this young man who only wanted to be helpful, but who got only disdain and disrespect in return.

I can’t go back to that day and change my actions . . . all I can do is to continue to fight this monster of racism that rears its ugly head so often. I owe it to that young man to do so. I owe it to Elijah. And I owe it to myself, because this below-the-surface racism is a poison that needs to be eliminated from my body, mind and soul.

I’m so sorry, young man, wherever you may be. I’m sorry that you have to face a world filled with people like me. But I have to thank you as well, because your kind gesture taught me so much more than you will ever know.

A Christian publisher, Zondervan, apparently released a men’s book recently that had some pretty overt and stereotypical Asian content. Apparently the title of the book played off of this cluster of stereotypes, and to add insult to injury, the marketing campaign went even further.

A handful of Asian-American bloggers challenged both Zondervan and the book’s authors about the hurtful nature of these stereotypes. The part that really caught my attention was when Zondervan CHOSE TO DO THE RIGHT THING–they acknowledged that they had been wrong, and pulled the books. ALL of the books. (doing the right thing is usually not cheap, either.)

I read the blog entry of one of the people originally involved in the conversation about this, and found this blogger to be gracious, kind, and extremely generous to the authors. He had actually already reached out to one of the authors, and was hoping he would be able to meet the other one. Having come into this debate very late in the game, my sense was that this man was a complete gentleman and extremely gracious despite the pain that this incident had caused him.

I was almost in tears for Zondervan’s act of bravery, blown away by the fact that they had admitted their sin and had enough courage to remedy the situation. It was one of those moments where I felt a glimmer of hope for the future of the church, when for a brief moment, I wasn’t quite as weary on this journey as I so often am.

And then I started reading the comments on this gentleman’s blog . . . and as I did, that hope I had felt began to fade.

White (I’m assuming) Christians, oblivious to their white privilege and to the offense that had been caused in this situation, were spewing accusations TOWARDS THIS BLOGGER and towards the other Asian-Americans involved in this conversation. I usually don’t read more than a handful of comments, but I think I read almost 2/3 of them this time.

The accusations were ugly. Not only had these meddling Asians caused Zondervan to cowtow to the secular god of political correctness, they had also surely cost the salvation of millions of (purportedly white) men whose lives had been changed by this ministry. (Because Jesus is incapable of changing men’s lives without the help of one particular book/website?)

Oh, and also–the Asians made the Body of Christ look bad because they had dragged this all out in the public square, where millions of non-Christian Facebookers and Tweeters would see how horribly divided the Christians were.

(might the non-Christian world not instead be amazed by the testimony of humility and grace displayed in the resolution of this situation? And at any rate, I don’t think we have the option anymore in the 21st century to NOT be in the public square when it comes to social media. and one more thing–it’s my understanding that a bunch of people were Tweeting about what a stupid decision Zondervan had made . . . is THAT glorifying God?!)

I was flabbergasted by this backlash, until I remembered that the thing that keeps racism going is its invisibility. I was watching the wages of white privilege unfold right before my eyes. We white folks don’t get it–and we don’t NEED to get it. We are not “the other”, and that “other” makes an extremely convenient target when we don’t want to look at ourselves.

I know that I have a problem following up when it comes to this type of thing, but I really want to write to Zondervan and tell them how thrilled I am that they chose to do what was right, even at such a great cost (and I am speaking of more than the financial cost).

The reaction to this is proof positive that we have so far to go in fighting this disease of racism . . . and though I rejoice in small victories, I am still sometimes so overwhelmed by the seemingly never-ending road that we still have to travel.

My prayer is that more and more people and organizations will have the courage to do what Zondervan did–to admit to their blindness to the racism that wounds our brothers and sisters in Christ, and to take steps towards seeing, even when that seeing is painful.

The movie was only in Grand Rapids for a few days, but I’m guessing that it will be out on video fairly soon, if it isn’t already–so add it to your NetFlix list NOW. And read more about how you can take action against this modern-day slavery (at different points in the movie, it is referred to as “almost” slavery or “quasi-slavery”–BULLSHIT! There’s nothing “quasi” about it!)  that is taking place right in our own hemisphere, and with generous subsidies from the US Government.

 One of my friends expressed concern that this documentary would hold up the “white man” as the hero, and to some extent that is the case, but more than that, it seems to me that (at least in one pivotal scene near the end of the movie), it’s the CHURCH–God’s people standing together–that comes across as the TRUE hero.

But when you see it, you can let me know what you think . . .

I am pretty sure that there is some increase, given the whole copycat phenomenon, but noose hangings are nothing new. A friend sent me this thoroughly disturbing story that she had heard on NPR the previous weekend . . . you can read the short blurb, but to get the full effect, I would recommend that you listen to the entire podcast (it’s about 30 to 40 minutes long.) I wanted to vomit after listening–and you may feel that way too–but listen anyway.

Many of us have rallied around the battle cry of “Free the Jena Six!”, as well we should. But I didn’t hear anybody crying out to free Charles Hickman, and in the podcast he makes it painfully clear that, no matter how large a settlement he received, he really never will be free of this again. “It’s in my mind now”, he kept saying.

Oh, Mr. Hickman, I am so, so sorry. And it’s in my mind now, too, only I don’t want it out of my mind . . . I don’t want to forget the discomfort I felt as I heard your story, and I don’t want to ever stop wrestling with my own complicity in this.

ps–as I was researching this post, I came across another NPR story that has a black man talking about “ignore the noose“, saying that if we simply ignore noose sightings, we will deplete these nooses of their power.

I would suggest (and others agree) that the noose ALREADY has power, several hundred years of it, and merely “ignoring” it isn’t going to make it go away.

I have to admit that I am a bit shocked to hear the anti-Boondocks/anti-McGruder talk. Granted, I am a white woman, but (not sure how to say this without sounding hokey/ignorant, but here goes) I feel like I have really learned a lot/been made aware of stuff via the Boondocks cartoons. Do I think the TV show is far less funny and pushes things in the wrong direction? Absolutely, but sadly, I still watch it.

As long as Cosby has been  mentioned, I will say that I struggled with the same thing with the whole “Fat Albert” issue. When a professor told my class that Fat Albert was embraced by the black community when it first came out, I was shocked, because in my family, Fat Albert was used to mock black folks and to reinforce the stereotypes. It’s part of how we learned these horrible stereotypes. Even as an adult, I heard her say this and couldn’t get my mind around the fact that anybody would see Fat Albert as a positive thing.

I’ve never (before today) had these questions about Boondocks–okay, scratch that. I HAVE had these questions about the TV show, because as one person mentioned above, it’s going out to a wider audience and is going to be misinterpreted by the folks in Iowa (and yes, in Staten Island, where I grew up) in the same way. But the comic strip is, to me, a totally different animal, and I feel like I was repeatedly given a glimpse into the struggles that the black community faces by reading it. (I still read the comic daily–it’s in “reruns”/syndication–and it’s funny because right now it’s dealing with the 2000 (or maybe 2004?) elections, and it still speaks perfectly well to the current presidential race . . .)

Finally, I think I learn about myself as a “trying to be the cool white woman” person–I see way too much of myself in the eager, trying to be “hip-hop” (to quote Brenda Salter-McNeil’s use of the term) white girl who wants to be “down with the people”. I see myself and wince, and isn’t that what good satire should cause us to do?

At any rate, I read some more, and thought more about the TV show, and how I just never loved the TV show the way that I loved (and still love) the comic strip, and I guess I am ready to concede that the show has taken a wrong turn. Now, though, I find myself questioning my previous analysis of the comic strip . . . and I just don’t know where to go with that. I truly have seen Huey as a prophet, and have prescribed words like, “important” and “profound” to the comic strip, and now I’m not sure where to go with all of this.

any thoughts?

You have to understand–I LOVE Schoolhouse Rock. Saw the play on Broadway (and still own the sweatshirt!), bought the CD, etc. And I still am not ready to let go of my love of Grammar Rock classics like “Unpack your Adjectives” and the fabulous Skee-lo re-interpretation of ”Mr. Morton“,  or Math Rock favorites like “Figure Eight” and “Three is a Magic Number“.

But this is the most blatant twisting of our nation’s history that I have ever seen, and recent discussions about “reclaiming untold stories” reminded me again of the multitude of ways that I’ve been lied to.

If you need help spotting the lies, I’ll be happy to help you out–just let me know. But here’s your first clue: ask yourself who might have been under those elbows as they happily elbowed their way across the nation, or whether the people we “bought” the land from in the first place had any right to sell it.

But I saw this piece and it really brought home once again the concept that it’s all about this false, ridiculous standard of whiteness that this whole house of cards is built upon. And sometimes I just hate my whiteness, even though I know I have to own up to it.

sigh.

It was a phase of this problem that caused the Civil War; and however much they who marched South and North in 1861 may have fixed on the technical points, of union and local autonomy as a shibboleth, all nevertheless knew, as we know, that the question of Negro slavery was the real cause of the conflict. Curious it was, too, how this deeper question ever forced itself to the surface despite effort and disclaimer. No sooner had Northern armies touched Southern soil than this old question, newly guised, sprang from the earth,–What shall be done with Negroes?

What is it going to take before I’m willing to give more than lip service to all of this? What will it take before I’m willing to stand with people of color to fight this insiduous evil?

anyway, here’s the update letter I received yesterday. (below the fold) If you want to receive Jena 6 updates, visit www.colorofchange.org for subscription information.

Dear Lorraine,Thursday was a powerful day. From the thousands of people who packed the streets of Jena, to the thousands who took action all over the country, you stepped up as a community to show your support for the Jena 6 and their families. When we looked at the numbers at the end of the day, we were awed by your commitment. More than 1,250 of you said you were going to Jena. Even more inspiring was that you said you’d bring nearly 10,000 people with you, in cars, rented vans, and hired buses! 6,500 of you signed up to pass out flyers in your local communities; 200 of you held vigils and rallies; and you made 6,200 phone calls to Louisiana officials.

We started ColorOfChange.org after Hurricane Katrina to make sure the next time disaster struck our community, there would be an organized, strategic and loud response from Black America and our allies. Yesterday, you were organized, you were strategic, you were loud, and you made it clear that the disaster of Jim Crow justice occurring in Jena will not be allowed to stand.

Mychal’s bond hearing yesterday was a bitter disappointment. Judge Mauffray declined to release him, or to set any conditions for his release. It’s clear that the fight for justice is far from over, and that it will take more from each of us to ensure freedom for these 6 young men. Thankfully, our movement is now more than 350,000 people strong; and we know that our collective effort in the next weeks and months can make a major difference in how things unfold for these young men. We hope you are in it for the long haul and will continue to push forward and fight on behalf of our young men. We will continue to give you updates and meaningful ways to act on behalf of the Jena 6.

It continues to be our privilege to be part of such a strong and powerful community. Together, we will make a difference for these young men, and for justice in our world.

Thank You and Peace,

– James, Van, Gabriel, Clarissa, Mervyn, and the rest of the ColorOfChange.org team
   September 22th, 2007