On Charlottesville

I expected my second post on this blog (about moving to York, England) to be about why I'm doing YAGM and what led me here. But I'm feeling very reflective and sad about the events happening in Charlottesville. It merits some YAGM-worthy reflection.

Just yesterday, I was thinking about my year spent as an AmeriCorps VISTA at Paul's Place. I was thinking how I learned so much about race in Baltimore and in the United States. I learned what it is to be actively anti-racist, how racial prejudice is disguised by systemic injustices perpetrated by corporations, governments, and even nonprofits, and how being black affects every aspect of a person's life in a way that I, a white woman, can never fully understand.

In January, I read Ta-Nehisi Coates' excellent book, The Beautiful Struggle, which is a letter to his son about growing up black in America. And for the first time, my empathy wasn't just a vast feeling of sadness about the problems in our country. It was a very pointed grief. As I read, I thought distinctly of the faces of the black children I worked with every day at Paul's Place; worked with and came to love. They aren't any different than the white children I babysit who grew up in Towson, but their futures are indelibly marked because of the societal significance we place on the color of their skin. I thought of the harm that could befall them because of their skin color and how terribly sad that is for them and for those who love them, myself included. It took racism from the realm of my head to the realm of my heart.

It struck me very deeply that despite my efforts to eradicate poverty (the buzzwords of AmeriCorps), to be actively anti-racist, and to be a generally kind and thoughtful person, I am still a woman of privilege who benefits every day from societal systems that oppress people of color. And those people of color aren't just nameless people, they are my friends, the students I teach, and my coworkers. It is a terribly uncomfortable feeling that has dogged me all year.

When I became co-workers, and then friends, with Geon, who does very valuable community outreach in Pigtown, I learned even more from his personal and academic perspective on race. Talking with Geon taught me a lot about race, and while I reveled in our conversations, it deepened my feelings of sadness and discomfort. As I became better friends with Geon, I realized I had started to think more about his personal safety and that of all my black friends, which in Baltimore is constantly in danger. How terrible, to live in a world where the color of your skin affects your physical well-being; that was my head thought. Will my friends come to harm because of their color?; I began to worry - that was my heart thought.

Yesterday, I spent time thinking about all this. I've already begun to miss Geon and the rest of my coworkers at Paul's Place, and the work that I felt so attuned to. I realized that despite my constant feeling of discomfort with the way the world operates now, I'd so much rather live with this feeling than be without. I am blessed to have learned these things - I hope my mind and heart stay open to continue being discomfited.

Pastor Nancy (my pastor at Ascension) gave a sermon today that spoke about the bravery it takes to step out of one's boat. For Paul, in the Bible, this is a literal stepping out of a boat, to be lifted to walk on water by Jesus. For others, this is a feeling of stepping out of one's comfort zone. I think this is what racist skinheads and neo-Nazis lack. They are not able to step out of their comfort zones to think the uncomfortable thoughts that would make them better people. Staying in their boat means they fear a world where all people are equal. They fear the unequivocal truth where we might acknowledge that we as individuals and we as community members have done horrible thing to our neighbors who look different than us. These feelings are uncomfortable and neo-Nazis can't leave their sheltered boats to confront their own evil and inadequacies.

I hope I live in a world where my boat is constantly being rocked and being left. And I hope the same for all my friends and family, all of your reading this. Only in leaving our boats can we truly make the world a better place.

I'll end with this Franciscan blessing that I keep posted in my bedroom. It sums up the prayers we need in a time like this.

May God bless you with a restless discomfort 
about easy answers, half-truths and superficial relationships,
so that you may seek truth boldly and love deep within your heart.

May God bless you with anger at injustice, oppression,
and exploitation of people, so that you may work for
justice, freedom, and peace.

May God bless you with the gift of tears to shed with those who suffer
from pain, rejection, or the loss of all that they cherish, so that you may
reach out your hand to comfort them and transform their pain into joy.

May God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that
you really CAN make a difference in this world, so that you are able 
to do what others claim cannot be done.

And the blessing of God be with you
and remain with you, this day and forevermore.