Yes, Black Lives Do Matter

I could give you a long list of individual black people whose lives matter to me. Doctors who have served my family. My math professor of a few years ago. My beloved former coworkers and classmates. Neighbors who have helped me in the snow. The people at my post office who were there for me when my sister died and my son died, and I had to send paperwork back and forth across the country to be my dad's legal guardian. Several priests, including one who is quite large & I have found myself being concerned for him when I have heard that some officer or another was afraid because someone was black and large. Oh, puh- lease!

There was a time in my life when I wasn't awake to the idea that there was a real problem. A couple of times, really. One of those times, in the late 60's, I started reading. Another time, in the 90's, I just gradually became more aware.

So, if you don't see what I see these days, the terrible injustices, I would ask you to read more widely, to meet more diverse people if possible, to consider that maybe, just maybe mistakes, and sins, and criminal injustices are sometimes made on both sides of the law.

If a teacher abused a child, people would be all upset. And teachers did, when I was a child, but what could I or my classmates do? But if other teachers, or parents, or the school board held them responsible...and perhaps they did at some point.

How many bodies of people, how many positions, do we grant impunity to? There should be none.

Personally, I'm not even sure what you and I can do. But I would ask you to get your news and views from more than one source, and to pray with me for a time of greater respect for all people, because we all matter, but right now, today, I'm going to say this: Black lives matter!

In the Wake of Recent Tragedies

I was heartbroken yesterday. I am no less so today. I'd like to ask you one thing. Please don't let the media, any politicians, or anyone else make this an "us" vs. "them" thing for you. It isn't.

You might not guess this from my past posts, but someone close to me wears the uniform and carries the gun. I thought about that waking up this morning, and I hadn't heard about Dallas yet. Maybe I was feeling something. Yes, it's not easy being an officer, and we need to see them as human beings and value their lives, and appreciate the dedication of the many who are doing their jobs well. But please understand that doesn't mean we can't make some changes in the system. That doesn't mean that we shouldn't value the lives of those who are senselessly killed, without due process, for minor infractions or sometimes no infraction at all. That doesn't mean we can't call for accountability, as we would in any other profession.

Just for a little perspective, does anyone think that teachers, coaches, and those who lead souls should be allowed to sexually abuse children unchecked? No, we have worked to change systems to control and deal with that…fortunately, to the benefit of all those who are good teachers, coaches, and leaders of souls. In a similar way, it is not that all or most policemen and policewomen are bad people. For heaven's sake, many of them get into it primarily because they want to serve. But if you assume they are all good, all make good judgments all the time, no matter what they do…even if they kill without cause, then would you make the same assumption if it were your child or son or husband who was a victim? Would you feel the same if a teacher abused your child? We need to respect the law but we need to change some of the systems, so that we have better training, better vetting, and more accountability in the profession.

One can be upset about both what happened with the two men who were killed by police in the past few days and what happened in Dallas. That is not mutually exclusive. Sure, perhaps some in the media want to make it us vs. them, like a sporting event, so we will watch and read. But it isn't us vs. them! For one thing, if you go there, you are comparing apples and oranges, a profession and a race. What sense does that even make?

Wanting accountability within a profession doesn't mean someone wants carnage, the very kind of carnage some of us are hoping to change. Why would anyone who is trying to fight for better legislation to stop violence want more violence? Are people even aware of the reasonable means being used to try to bring about change?

What happened in Dallas was a peaceful protest, which was being followed by a moment of silence. Who the snipers were and why they were there, I don't know. I don't know if we will ever really know the motivation. But it is grief upon grief for our nation.

I do want to add that all my teenage and adult life, I've grieved so much whenever I hear people say derogatory things or make derogatory judgments about people based on their race. I'm not saying I'm perfect and that I've never had any kind of prejudiced thought in my life; but I check myself on it. I'm not saying I'm a better person; maybe I was helped by my sister marrying someone of another race, while I was just a young teen. But all I know is it grieves me deeply. I think it must grieve the Father more. If we look at someone and automatically make a judgment about what they might do or think or feel, based on the color of their skin, then what are we saying to their Creator?

To My White Friends Today

Today as I drove to the store here in Baltimore, as I saw black men walking from the subway or the bus to their jobs, as I always do, I really thought seriously about what it might feel to be them, to be walking, and to never know how that day might go down. Or how about the many who are working professional jobs, driving their cars to work or recreation, not knowing what might happen at a traffic stop?

As I shopped, my heart just kept breaking, feeling the pain that must be in the hearts of my neighbors here, those I shop with and those who serve me at the store, those who put the food on the shelves so I can buy it, the men and women who check my food through when I'm done, the woman who kindly made sure I remembered to remove my card from the silly new chip reader. How do they feel today? Last month? Last year? Every day?

I know how I felt that one day when police came to my door in bullet proof vests with adrenaline oozing into the atmosphere, guns at the ready, asking if my son was home, asking which room he was in, demanding that I step aside so they could enter the room of my sleeping son.

I don't know what anyone might do who is wakened from a sound sleep to a strange situation. I don't know what policemen "on the ready" might do. So in my fear, I did something which could have been very foolish. When the officer told me to step aside, I just stood there. I sometimes wonder how that would have gone down if I had not been a middle-aged white woman? Yes, I think I'm privileged. It's not a choice I've made, and it breaks my heart that, for someone else, it could have gone differently.

I don't even know where the words came from, but I asked, "Are you sure you have the right person?" Somehow, in that moment, the officer released a degree of his fear and readiness, and brought out a flyer to show me.

Next time you think that surely someone "didn't cooperate", first of all, it might not even be true; but even if there may be cases where it appears that way, please, if you would, remember me, standing there between armed officers and the door to my son's bedroom while I was told to move, and I didn't cooperate; I didn't comply. It wasn't wisdom and it wasn't bravery; it was just what I did in the moment without thinking.

It wasn't my son they wanted. After showing me a flyer, they believed me, and they let me be the one to wake my son so they could talk to him to see if he knew anything about the wanted person (he didn't). It was a case of mistaken identity, the right name, but the wrong person at the wrong address. It happens. It wasn't the first time it's ever happened to anyone; that's why we have a name for it. It happens in homes and it happens with cars.

You might have heard me tell this story before, but I tell it today to share the fear and reactions of a mother, a woman who was brought up in the 50's and 60's in a small town in Washington...brought up to think that all police are always our friend, always there to help, and as long as we cooperate, everything will be just fine. Yet, in that moment, I felt their fear and their readiness, and I was very afraid for my son.

I agree with those who say that many policemen just want to do their job. And yes, of course their lives matter. Of course all lives matter. But when we say black lives matter – at least when I say it - it's my way of saying that we need to acknowledge that there is a problem. And we need to work toward improvement without delay: better training and especially more accountability! And we need to be empathetic instead of defensive about the loss of black lives.  

All I'd like to ask from my white friends for today is a little honesty with ourselves and a little empathy. How would we feel if we were that wife and mother, that girlfriend, that sister, father, brother, or friend of someone whose life was threatened or violently ended over a minor infraction or, in some cases, perhaps no infraction at all?  How would we feel if we were part of a group for which this just kept happening again and again and again?

Martin Luther King Jr. Day - 2016

Today we celebrate Martin Luther King Jr. Day, what he stood for and what he accomplished. Let's not forget what still needs to be done. Oh, I know some of my friends don't think anything still needs to be done. Some are even angry. There are things to be angry about, regarding systems and policies, and maybe we don't all agree with what those are. But where we need to be careful about anger is when it becomes directed toward people or groups of people.

There once was someone I was very angry with for over a year or more. I didn't think I hated this person, but I later realized that if my feelings for this person hadn't turned into hate, then I don't know what hate is. I have repented of this, of course; but I'm sharing to say that it was only much later on down the road that I recognized it for what it was. In case you think - because I'm talking about Martin Luther King Day - that this story was about race, it wasn't. The person in question was the same race, economic class, and gender as I am, but my point is that we tend to read about hate and think that it isn't us, that it would never, ever be us. Yet, it's so easy to cross that line and not even be aware of it. 

When I read Martin Luther King Jr. speaking of "love, not hate"…I think his words were revolutionary for our world, and still are. I also think we often don't realize what hate means. We think it's this nebulous thing that doesn't apply to us. Here's the definition from Merriam Webster's online dictionary: "intense hostility and aversion usually deriving from fear, anger, or sense of injury". 

All my life, in all the parts of the country where I have lived, I have heard comments that would seem to bear out that definition, and especially regarding race. I believe there are still systems that need to be improved to protect people from other people's hate, but I also believe that one of the most important things we can each do as a person is to strive to love and to keep letting love overcome and drive hatred from our world. What if we look at people respectfully as individuals? What if we see all people as the same, yet each unique, each struggling with something, each possessing a great treasure of goodness inside, each created by God with enormous potential on earth and the potential to inherit heaven?

If we find ourselves complaining about people of a certain race or religion or nationality, are we looking at them as individuals? Did God - who made each of the snowflakes different - make people of any one race or religion or nationality all the same? Did he make people who deal with any particular circumstance all the same?  Did he make people who espouse any particular view all the same? Or did He make them all different? And doesn't he look at each person whom he lovingly created, and continue to love them, individually, uniquely? If we really stop and think, if we really stop and feel, can we do any less? Can we do any less for Him? 

Book Review of The Warmth of Other Suns

Book review of: The Warmth of Other Suns: The Epic Story of America's Great Migration, by Isabel Wilkerson

How often do you find a book that is both gripping and eye-opening, both broad and narrow?

This book gives a vast overview of the 20^th century migration of black people from the south to the north and west, while taking a closer, deeper look at the lives of three specific individuals.

I could hardly put the book down until I had finished reading it. Even after I finished reading, it stayed with me. When I think of a particular fast foods place, I always think of what I read there one rainy evening, the story of a doctor's long drive to Los Angeles, as he drove through states where he thought he would be treated a little better, only to find that no motel would let him spend the night. 

I came away from my reading with a deeper understanding of some of the history in America, as well as some background to the history we continue to make today. 

This was an unforgettable read. 

Why Did I Write "Come to the City with Me"?

I wrote that blog post yesterday morning because I woke up at 4:16 a.m. needing to write it, and I fired up the computer, and I just started typing. But why?

  

I think many white people are actually not prejudiced against black people, as individuals. Many white people have a black friend, or maybe several, and enjoy watching black actors or athletes on TV, or listening to black musicians. But I think it's too easy for human nature to be, or become, prejudiced against 'intersecting sets'. Let me try to explain what I mean by using an analogy. 

When I was a teenager, some older people would talk about teenagers and loud music. My dad liked to play jazz on his stereo, and he liked it loud. I'm guessing the same people who complained about teens and their loud music probably wouldn't have said a word about my dad and his music. And I'll bet those same people wouldn't have complained about a teen who listened to classical music, either. It wasn't the teens themselves, or the volume of the music in and of itself, but the intersecting 'set', that they thought they didn't like. 

When we develop a prejudice against a 'group', I think it is often an intersecting group, because...well, that's just the thing about prejudices. Sometimes, we don't even know the reason it developed. It might be ideas we picked up from our grandparents, friends, or the media, or perhaps a bad experience that we lived or, more often, a bad experience that we lived vicariously through someone else's story. 

What we don't always realize is that for every story, there are other stories. Occasionally, we hear those 'other stories', stories of heroic deeds. But what we often don't hear is what I like to call 'everyday heroism'. When you or your spouse gets up early and shovels out the car in freezing cold to drive to work, that's everyday heroism; but of course it doesn't usually make the news. When someone smiles or serves others in spite of their own pain, be it physical or emotional pain, that's everyday heroism; but of course, you won't usually know about that, unless you know the person yourself, because it doesn't often count as 'story'. 

So, in my post yesterday, I wanted to share with you a few little snippets about people I know or meet every day, some of them from what might be an 'intersecting set' to some people, for example, people who you might see standing at a bus stop or people who live in the inner city (whatever that is; you know it's not really a defined place, right?).

I wanted to share with you in case you haven't had the privilege to live where I live. I wanted to take people from a 'group' that is often portrayed negatively in the media, and let you see the 'everyday heroism' of a few of their individual lives. Not the 'superhero' kind of heroism - we shouldn't need those kinds of stories - but just the heroism of everyday living. 

If you didn't read it yesterday, and you would like to read it, 

here is the link for Come to the City with Me.

Come to the City with Me

Come to the city with me, will you? I would like to have you "meet" some of my friends, some of the people I have worked with or done business with, some of the people I have taken college classes with. I don't live in the inner city but I sometimes do business there. And I live in a diverse area. I'm a minority in many places where I shop and go about my business.

I speak mostly in the present tense here, but I'm touching on the past eight years of living in Baltimore.

Here's my good friend, walking to the bus stop. She lives with her two children, her children's father, and her mother, in the so-called "inner city" (or that was where she lived, at the time I'm referring to). She used to work a job where she managed other people, but it involved out-of-state travel, and when her first son was born, she wanted to spend more time with him. So she got a job closer to home. She drives to work, but this day, that I'm sharing with you, her car is in the shop, and her man goes to work early, so you would see her walking to or from the bus. Her children are very involved in sports, academics, and school civics, and she is very proud of them.

My son takes the bus to his first year of college (several years ago). One afternoon he tells me about the women he sees on the bus each day, all dressed up to go to an office job, getting off the bus with children who are carrying miniature backpacks or little lunch bags. He notices the dedication of these women, as he observes that they are taking their children to day care, and, as he says, then they will probably get back on the bus again in order to go on to their workplaces.

A few years later, I'm taking a class with some of the women who take care of these women's children, or other children like them. My fellow students take these classes in addition to working and, for those who are mothers, in addition to taking care of their own children as well. We share stories and have important discussions, and I learn much from their experience and wisdom.

Here's one young student who is usually a little late to class. She lives a little further out than I do. She walks a very long way to get to the nearest bus stop, but she is always cheerful and so enthusiastic about learning and life.

As with any area I've lived in, not everyone is always enthusiastic. There are people who work with customers every day, who look tired, and they probably are tired, both physically and emotionally. They might not always offer 'service with a smile'. But I've found they will always serve, and always go the extra mile if there is a problem, and often wish me a blessed day.

I sometimes forget that you aren't "supposed to" talk to strangers in any big city. I didn't grow up in a city, and although I lived in Los Angeles for years, I next lived in a fairly rural community in Kentucky for more years after that. So, sometimes I'm walking through a store or a shopping center and, as I pass a man, I sometimes say hello (just as I often do with women too). Any time I say "hello", he says, politely, "Good morning," or "Good afternoon. How are you?" or something similar. By saying "he", I'm not talking about one man. I'm talking about every man I have ever "met", since I've been here, young or old. I have received nothing but respect from the men in this city.

We frequent a historic downtown church which attracts people from many miles away, a church which is located a block or two from a rough neighborhood. It's a bit of a drive for us. At a church coffee social, I meet a woman about my age who has been attending this church for years. She's so sweet, I wish I lived closer to her, so I could get to know her better.

I could introduce you to more people I know or do business with, here in this diverse city. But just know this. The people I know or meet each day, some of whom live in the inner city, and among many of whom I am a minority...these are my people. These are my neighbors, my former co-workers, and my classmates; these are some of my doctors, nurses, bankers, and professors.

So when I read negative things in the news, and social media, which talk about "those people"…people who live in the inner city, or whatever else that phrase may mean to different people…I don't just cringe (although I do that); but more than that, it gives me real pain. I'm wondering if that's how God feels, too, when we talk in negative ways about any of the people he has created, when we judge people as members of one group or another, be it racial, economic, or anything else. 

I think we sometimes forget that each and every person was created lovingly by God in his image and likeness. When Jesus told us to love our neighbor as ourselves, someone asked him, "Who is our neighbor?"…and he told a parable we have come to call "the story of the Good Samaritan". Isn't it interesting that he picked a Samaritan for the hero of his story? He picked someone from a group that was racially a little different from many of the people he was talking to, a group which was somewhat segregated. I wonder if he was trying to tell us something.

You might also like to read the post I wrote the next day, Why Did I Write "Come to the City with Me"?

The Finger Pointing Doesn't Help

I've diminished my Facebook use and even my email inbox is "bugging me" these days. Here's why:

I wish, before people would pass along this or that "black-on-white crime", thinking they prove a point, that they would check to see if the killer was arrested and charged. In all the "black-on-white" stories that I have seen people post, the killers were definitely arrested and charged and - if it has already gone to trial - convicted.

The only similarity between those stories & the recent case that brought national attention is that someone was killed. The differences in the recent case were that no one was arrested and charged in the weeks after someone died; that evidence had not been properly preserved; and so much information & misinformation was publicized (because otherwise, nothing was being done at all)...and that this affected the ability to even find a jury. 

If someone wants to pass along every "black-on-white" and "black-on-black" crime story that comes their way, thinking that it proves a point, I wish they would ask who bombed the Oklahoma federal building...and who shot up schools and malls and a theater?  My parents taught me when I was a little girl that there is crime in every race. 

If we say, "Why are people making this about race?" and then we turn this into finger-pointing & drag out and publicize every crime we can find, and imply "these people" commit all these crimes, then I believe we answer the question very well as to why this is about race. 

If that sounds harsh, I'm sorry, because I'm sure many people re-post these things without even thinking, or because they simply don't understand the differences between the cases and they are tired of hearing about it. I'm sure some of them don't really mean what they seem to imply. 

But it makes me wonder if maybe we do need to think a little more carefully about this subject!  

Things People Say about the Zimmerman Case

"Why do people bring race into this? There was this black-on-white crime that happened in this other state, and that's not on the national news." When someone tells me that, or posts it on Facebook, I look at the story they refer to. And every time I see that someone was "arrested and charged" for the crime. Therein lies the difference.

I have yet to hear a story of black-on-white in which the person was allowed to simply walk away free, without so much as an arrest or a trial. This is what happened in this case until the national news brought it to our attention. And that delay is why evidence was not properly preserved and why the jury pool was sparse because so many had already heard so much about the case.

"There was equal fault on both sides." No one really knows for sure what happened out there. But whatever happened, can't people conceive that Martin either knew or sensed his life was in danger (as we know that it actually was). Can't we consider that he may have been the first one who acted in self-defense?

"It was decided in a court of law; so it's over. "  It was decided in a court of law, so it's over until the next court, perhaps a civil trial from the family, or perhaps a trial by a higher court. A verdict of 'not guilty' demonstrates that a crime wasn't proven to the satisfaction of a jury, who cannot convict if they have reasonable doubt. But we will never know whether the jury would have decided differently if they had been given the 'initial aggressor instruction' to consider, because the defense objected to it and it was left out of the jury instructions. (One explanation of that is here.). It's also not "over", in that people are allowed to legitimately seek ways to make changes in laws for the future.

"I wish we could stop talking about race."  There was a time in my life when I felt that way, too, so I understand that sentiment. After all, as my late son Paul used to say (although he wasn't denying the existence of problems), "we are all the same race, the human race". Wouldn't it be nice if everyone just respected everyone else equally? Unfortunately it seems that in some parts of our country - and perhaps in some hearts - these conversations are still necessary. We need to have those conversations not only in society but also in our families, where we teach one another to build people up and respect them, whatever our similarities and differences may be.

"42" - A Movie Review

Go see the Movie “42”.

Okay, no, I’m not telling you what to do or anything. I’m just enthusiastic. 

I got mad; I got madder; I got really mad. I laughed. I cheered (quietly). I cried (happily). I all but forgot to breathe for an hour and a half. Well, okay, I really did forget to breathe some of the time. And let me tell you, not breathing can be exhausting. 

So, what is “42”? “42” was Jackie Robinson’s baseball number.  “42” is a movie about Jackie Robinson, which is par excellence!  Bring your teens. It’s PG-13, and you might not want your little ones to hear the language, especially the “n” word, repeated over and over by one man. About that? You picked up that I got mad, right?  No, I wasn’t mad at the producers. I was mad at the attitudes and actions of some of the people. Even though I already knew it was that way in history, it was painful to see it all come to life on the screen. But sometimes we need to see pain, to see how people have pushed through it.  

This movie and all that it stands for is part of American History 101. Living and breathing history. This was life-changing US history!  None of this life-changing history should have ever been necessary. But unfortunately it was. 

Branch Rickie and Jackie Robinson and Pee Wee Reese and others helped bring about change. Many were involved, and many showed courage, but what was most apparent, what was most essential to change the sports climate in America, was the courage of one man who didn't see himself as a hero, one man who just wanted to play baseball: Jackie Robinson. 

I hope you will go see the movie. 

I Hate Injustice

I hate injustice but I love to learn the history of injustice. Why is that? I think it's because it justifies my hatred of injustice.

But more than that, it makes me realize that the world is really not much better nor much worse than it has ever been...and that most of us are not as good as we could be, in the way that we view our neighbor, that most of us, at one time or another, tend to look at someone else with a prejudicial view...whether it is toward their race or religion or culture; or whether we've risen above that, but it's about someone's economic class or the way they dress or what their politics seem to be. Why do I say 'what their politics seem to be'?  Well, don't we sometimes assume someone holds one view because they say they hold a certain view on a totally different topic?

Don't we sometimes say this person has this bad way of looking at this topic and therefore this person is bad? What if we tried to just look past the things we don't agree with, and look at the person? Fight what we believe is wrong but fight ideas, not people? Because, as Martin Luther King Jr pointed out, hatred doesn't stop hatred.

Only love, respectful love, can really bring about love, and isn't that really what life is all about?

Why I'm Still Thinking about Trayvon Martin

"Oh, I know why she gets so upset about that," you might think. "It's because her son died." And you would be partly right. My son died only five weeks before Trayvon died (but at least my son died in his sleep of natural causes). Or you could remember that my boys get around Baltimore on public transportation and on foot; so maybe I could relate with Trayvon's family because he was on foot. And you would be partly right.  A young man walking home from a convenience store with candy and tea, wearing a hoodie, could so easily have been one of my sons!

But those aren't the only reasons it upsets me.  I was a kid during the Civil Rights Movement. Because I lived in Washington State, I was pretty insulated; I knew we were all equal, and somehow I assumed everyone else must think so too. So I totally didn't "get it", at first. I thought if there were still a few people who were a little prejudiced, then we didn't need major changes; we simply needed to change those few people's hearts. But I wanted to understand. So I began to read. One of the books I read was Black Like Me, by John Howard Griffin, the white writer who took pigmentation medicine to make himself look black, so he could find out what life was really like in the Deep South for black people. And what he found wasn't pretty!  I read more and learned more, and the picture didn't get any better.

Thankfully, all that has changed a lot. We have made great strides in being real, in recognizing that we are all just the same. But some moments, in some places, we might wonder. A man in a car, a man with a gun, follows a lone teenager who is on foot, and then gets out and follows him on foot, and then apparently asks him what he is doing there.  Do you know how demeaning that question is?  Do you know how threatening that whole picture is?  Even if we don't know exactly what happened after that...we do know that an unarmed teen was shot. Oh, but you have a right to carry a gun and stand your ground, right?  Only in self-defense. But besides, did anyone think of the unarmed teen's right to stand his ground?  It seems to me, for a moment (or a month or two), when that man was not arrested and tried, we went backwards - at least in that little corner of the world - some 50 years. Thankfully, the man was finally arrested, so this can be handled in a trial. Hopefully, we are back on track.

In the meantime, when you see me in a hoodie, now you know why. Yes, it does fit my relaxed clothing style. But I didn't buy my hoodies just because I like a casual style of clothing. I bought my hoodies after the Trayvon Martin incident, and they remain my continuing statement of solidarity.

Now, I'm not going to ask you to buy a hoodie, but I would like to ask you to join me in two things.

First of all, even if we - you, my readers, and I - are not racially prejudiced, I'm afraid we all sometimes make assumptions about people, perhaps based on the economic "class" we associate them with, or perhaps the clothing they wear, maybe a disability that they have, or maybe the way they talk. Do we ever hear ourselves saying or thinking "those people"...be it a culture, or an economic class or the way people dress?  If we do, let's stop ourselves and think: We are all the same. We all have hopes and discouragements, joys and sorrows. We all have people we love and people who love us. At the same time, we are each immensely different. Each one of us is a totally unique individual with complex thoughts and precious gifts.

Secondly, for those of us who are praying people, let us pray that our country will be a place where people are held accountable for their actions, regardless of the victim's race, culture, or who they know. We simply cannot permit vigilante law. Let's pray that our law enforcement and our courts act with honor and fairness. Most of all, let's pray that we may all grow in respect for one another.

Thank you.