ON RACISM.

I don’t think I’m smarter than the next guy. I don’t consider myself “woke” or an academic. I have two Associate of the Arts degrees from a community college. I’m not a political thinker. I don’t watch the news. However, what I have been incredible at, is listening and learning.

I grew up Republican. And before you jump to conclusions, this is not a “I grew up Republican but then I got smart and now I’m a woke liberal” post. Calm down Karen. I’ll get around to what has become of all that but for now, I wanted, no needed, to talk about race and my journey with racism.

I believed that not being racist was enough. I believed in the “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” creed. I knew that some people were racist but I thought the more we talked about it, it made it worse. As a Christian, I was taught we were one new race. Which, I still believe is true, but we’re not in Heaven yet boo. My parents weren’t racist. I was the only white kid at the birthday party. One of my first “boyfriends” in 3rd grade was black. I was the only white kid on the step team. My first CD I bought myself was Boyz II Men. Actually, I think it was a cassette tape because i’m 100 years old. But honestly, I thought that was enough.

Yeah, I know there is a group of people who will say that America is amazing, and I do realize that by simply living here, we’re all privileged. I realize we are so rich compared to the rest of the world. And I speak from experience. I’ve been to other countries. I realize there is racism everywhere. I realize it is better here than in so many places. But for a group so focused on America first and America best, there seems to be a large focus on us being “at least better than the others.” The Titanic is a tragedy that we carry on through generations, but we don’t say “well at least EVERYONE didn’t die.”

The problem is, when we start seeing people as groups, causes, and political leverage, we dehumanize them. The exact opposite of what Jesus did. Jesus saw the unseen. Jesus let the societal lowest come to him. Not as a group, but as a person.

The protestors in wherever small town USA, who are actively breaking the law because “their rights are in danger” are being hailed as heroes. And something about that has been sitting wrong with me. Screaming at officers and brandishing ridiculous weapons. This isn’t a peaceful sit-in here folks. This is pride. And listen, I’m all about freedom and liberties and small government and lower taxes and many of the same ideals that these men hold dear. But it is not my identity. As a Christian, it is not my battle cry. And I can’t help but notice, if those men were darker…I promise you this would not go the same way. Philando Castile was pulled over 49 times before he was shot. How many times have you been pulled over?

And then the news of this man jogging and being shot. Ahmaud Arbery. I can’t watch the video. I can’t handle it. But, I know what happened. I was talking to a friend this morning. She is black and engaged to a young black man. He likes to jog. She clutched him as the reality of that possibly happening to him hung over them like a cloud. And I cried. I cried for her. That these people that I know and love have to feel that way. I wished I could fix it. I wished I could make it better. And I realized, all I have is being an ally. All I have is using my platform. It’s a humble platform but it’s there.

I don’t want a pat on the back from the woke crowd. I don’t want to anger the conservatives. I’m just in the middle over here wondering about the people. On an individual level. And as Christians, shouldn’t we care that our brothers and sisters feel this way? I don’t have answers on how to fix it. I don’t know the right way to politically move towards that. Honestly, I don’t know that you can. It’s a broken world. People are broken. And I don’t think a singular political figure has any answers. But as white Christians, maybe we can step away from politics. Maybe we can look at those who are wounded and figure out a way to love them. We won’t stop senseless shootings but maybe we can think of those who are shot and see them through the lens of, what if that were my family? How would I feel? What would I do? How would I respond? And then look at those who DO feel like family because they see themselves in him and say, how can I love you? How can I support you?

And when I do that, I think my answer, at least for right now, is to say something.