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Immediately after I began pondering this question, I received an email that gave me an opportunity to do several things: contribute to the Tulsa Race Massacre Centennial Fund, contribute to “Tulsans Who Care,” and add my name to those sponsoring a full-page Tulsans Who Care ad in the Tulsa World. We are also watching a documentary titled “America to Me,” a year-long look at racism in an integrated Chicago high school. I am learning a lot. As soon as Ed finishes it I also plan on reading a book called “Between the World and Me” by Ta-Nehisi Coates. It’s a series of letters by a black father to his son. As of now, I think I can learn and give. I hope in the future that there might be other ways to contribute. One I’ve been thinking about for a while but can’t do until the pandemic quiets down involves working in the area of immigration. Although different, this is a racist issue also. I don’t know if there will be a need for what I’m thinking about, but I do feel confident that if I am open and looking, something will present itself. --Terese
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I grew up in a white neighborhood in Norman, Oklahoma and I attended a white school. Everyone I knew was white. I knew from what my parents said that it was wrong to think less of someone because of the color of their skin, but that knowledge remained abstract for me. Some of the ugly reality hit me when my family moved to Birmingham, Alabama in 1967, during the Civil Rights Movement and only months before the assassination of Martin Luther King Jr. This was during my freshman year of high school. I was once again in a white neighborhood and a white school, but there was a difference. I heard racist attitudes expressed openly, and I encountered the strange reluctance of some southerners to acknowledge losing the Civil War. The class system was very much alive. The black people I encountered in public were reserved and overly polite. There was horror in the community about the death of children in the Birmingham church bombing, but not much in the way of action. My pastor at the Episcopal church was fired for participating in civil rights marches.
George Wallace spewed his horrible rhetoric and managed to delay the integration of schools. I was there when the first black kids were bused to my white suburban school, and I will never forget seeing them come into the school for the first time. There were probably a dozen, and they were all groomed and dressed meticulously. They did not look to the left or right as they entered the school, and they looked scared to death. None of them were in any of my classes and I did not seek them out to welcome them. I was a shy kid and never sought anyone out, but I felt guilty at my own cowardice nonetheless. My adult years have passed in much the same way—knowing right from wrong and feeling outraged when I encountered racism, but doing little or nothing about it. Reflecting on my experiences in the years prior to the current Black Lives Matter demonstrations has been surprisingly difficult. I realize that I have a lot of strongly held beliefs but have done precious little to act accordingly. I’ve been hearing lately about the difference between being anti-racist and non-racist, and it’s pretty clear I’ve been the latter. I’ve prided myself on my progressive thinking but haven’t contributed anything of value. I hear the despair in the voices of black citizens who point out that there have been many moments of outrage in the past, with commissions formed and promises made, but they have seldom brought about any real change. Incremental change is not ok when the increments are so tiny. The Bible says that hope deferred makes the heart sick. It seems to me that there are a lot of heartsick people in our country and world right now. And it really is time for the rest of us to do something about it. --Terese Anger. It’s a difficult emotion to understand in ourselves and others. I’m sure the reason for that is very complicated, but two things have happened recently to make me feel as if I have a slightly better understanding of the anger that comes out of repression. The first was a conversation with a friend who, through her occupation, has access to detailed information about the Tulsa race massacre. She explained some of the events that occurred during the event and how unfairly and cruelly the African American community was treated in the aftermath. I suddenly understood at that moment, the anger our brothers and sisters have felt for many years. The second has been reading Richard Rohr’s daily meditations this week, but especially the one I received on Tuesday. In this meditation, Barbara Holmes defines the theology of anger and how it is really an expression of grief. That I can understand. I am slightly encouraged by how communities have joined together to speak out against the violence that has occurred for generations against a marginalized people. Hopefully, this anger will continue to grow, in our country and worldwide, to include all people who feel the effects of prejudice; whether it is because of race, gender, religion, sexual orientation, or economic status. Then we will truly have a better world. --Jeanette First, I am surprised it has taken a pandemic and the economic distress of thousands of Americans to finally bring the Racial Crisis onto center stage. Is it because lots of people have more time on their hands without jobs to go to, and lots more frustration with a system that isn't working now? There are at least two generations of Americans that have come of age since the Civil Rights act became law. So, I am left to ask, why has it taken so long to come to a boil? The riots and looting are not the real story. Turning a blind eye to policing issues is the story. Police killings, profiling persons of color, stopping and harassing persons of color is not new. And that must come back to our population sharing a sense that we can't hold politicians accountable. That our government is a big machine (which it is) that runs on its own set of rules, and we cannot impact the course it takes. Perhaps social media registering and sharing events makes it real in a new way to the people who are unaware of what goes on in their cities. Maybe this will be the time when we seek a just society for all of us. I am encouraged by stories from small towns that have joined the protest. The realization of a national responsibility to half of our citizens is long overdue. And the Equal Rights Amendment still needs to be addressed also! If we are going to get on a roll for Justice and Liberty for All, then let's make it for All! --donna The last two weeks have been surreal. In the midst of a pandemic crisis, our consciousness has been broadsided suddenly by an anything but sudden reality: systemic racism. We've acknowledged its existence (at least many of us have), but we're only forced to think about it intermittently with the death of one black person at the hands of white law enforcement, and then another, and then...until the apparent tipping point: the murder of George Floyd. I've been in conversation the past couple of weeks with many others like myself--the white privileged--and it's clear change is needed. I've also been in conversation with a good friend who is African American, and these conversations matter. Developing relationships with people of different perspectives and listening to their stories is very important. I hope to continue this in the coming weeks. I've also been reading books that will help me better understand white privilege (White Like Me by Tim Wise) and history of black experience from a black theologian (Jesus and the Disinherited by Howard Thurman). There are also multiple lists online of resources that can educate me on both topics. I expect this will be an ongoing undertaking. I've also just written emails to my four county commissioners and my state representative encouraging them to demand justice in the killing of a black man in March 2019 at the hands of sheriff's deputies after a minor traffic violation and subsequent car chase. The video of his death was just released this week--no one was ever charged in the incident, although his death was ruled a homicide by the coroner's office. In light of recent events, this is one symptom of the systemic problem, and I think it will best be solved one county, one city, one state at a time. I've never considered myself an activist, because protests and demonstrations are not my style (introvert, remember), but I can and will express my concerns via other methods. We're always encouraged to think globally, but act locally. I think this is one way to do that. --Janice "O, let America be America again- The land that ever has been yet- And yet must be- the land where every “man” is free.” Let America be America Again by Langston Hughes I think what these protests have shown me again is the dream of America is still a dream. It is not a land where all are on a equal plain with equal opportunity. Between the pandemic and the protests over George Floyd's death the contrast has been very stark. Today I watched a video of a police arrest in Tulsa of two black teens supposedly for jaywalking. I know clearly if there had been two white teens walking down the street nothing would have happened. To believe that there is no racism or white privilege or white supremacy is impossible for me. I have spent some time looking into the issue of racism in the last year or so. I believe that we as white people have a responsibility to change the way things are and I do not feel good about the length of time it has taken me to realize the privilege that I have. It is so easy not to see it or believe it. There is so much reinforcement for believing that I am where I am because of my own effort. Baloney!!
My family was able to own our first home because of the GI bill and could buy in any neighborhood. I could easily get a loan at the bank and be a respected customer. Nobody ever follows me around in a store to see what I might be purchasing or stealing. When I go places, most everyone looks like me. My boss is likely to look like me. I am not expected to represent my race or be a reflection on all white people. No one has ever called me a racial epithet. That and more have come to my attention over a few years. The recent events, especially the killing of George Floyd, have brought the racial divisions in the country to the forefront again. I have had difficulty with people who do not believe this is systemic and long standing and deeply ingrained in American culture. I know I have my own biases and prejudices, but I hope I can look at them and examine them and believe in them and not deny they are there. I would ask other people to do the same. So much more to learn and do and stand with those impacted more directly than I have been! --Carolyn I remember at Boston University a Black woman roommate told me not to talk to her because I’d never understand her. It crushed my spirit because I had always been the outsider, and I thought we could at least communicate our feelings. We never did. My other roommates, all East Coast urban Jewish girls, also had nothing in common with a poor Christian from the vast middle of the continent. I was the country girl who was put into advanced high school classes with the cliquish townies. I was raised by a single working mom during the days of “Father Knows Best.” I was the college girl who refused to pledge a sorority because it seemed to me to divide, not unify. I was a “haole” white, when we lived in the Hawaiian culture, and was the last person waited on at gas stations and stores. I was a “Yankee” when I lived in both North Carolina and Louisiana, my voice betraying me. And I’ve always been the teetotaler, a bane at sophisticated Harvard parties. I raised my daughter wearing mostly blue, and I gave my son dolls to play with. I was a hippie that never used drugs. And yet, I still had privilege to make choices. When I was doing a survey in the Shreveport Bottoms area (poor Black area of town) one of the women invited me into her (rented) shotgun house and showed me her back yard. It was full of sewage that had formed a lake between the houses, and it had been there for months. I called the health department and got it taken care of the next day. That was the privilege of my white voice. I weep when I think of all the injustices that Blacks and other minorities have had to endure. It is the small daily indignities that count up to create a milieu of helplessness or anger inside a person. I know that nothing changes without pain, especially if someone has to give up some of their own power, and these demonstrations are creating some pain for others, but I hope this time our eyes and ears and hearts are open to the change that is “blowin in the wind.” --Cynthia I've always believed it was important to be active in making the world a better place. My favorite spiritual quote is this one from Teresa of Avila. I've tried to use my hands and feet to do Christ's work on earth, as I am able to understand it, and as small as each step or act is. Some of the areas I've been active in are child abuse/neglect, mentoring, literacy, and education. Sometimes the problems that need solving seem overwhelming--I only have two hands and two feet. But I try. When the stay-at-home order was issued for Texas in March, I was doing four different volunteer activities each week, for three different entities. All of them stopped abruptly. I was both relieved and anxious about "doing nothing." I've now had time to reevaluate where I should be spending my time, and I may not return to any of my previous activities. I'm grateful for what each of them taught me, however. Our attention is squarely on racial equality issues this week, and if I can be of help in that fight, I will do my best to help. Our church will soon begin ongoing conversations about race relations, and I plan to participate in them. I'm also reading additional books about related issues to educate myself on the history of oppression based on race. A new opportunity is also before me. Because my mother was schizophrenic, I've always been aware and somewhat afraid of mental illness. It was a subject I learned early in life not to talk about--we were not a normal family, and it was cause for shame. Writing my memoir has been a source of healing, as I've researched mental health treatments in twentieth century America and confronted my own fears. I recently signed up to take volunteer training with the local chapter of NAMI (National Alliance of Mental Illness) whenever they resume later this month, and I look forward to another chance to both learn and be of service to others, using the hands and feet God gave me. --Janice This is an interesting question in a time of racial unrest, pandemic fears and economic disasters for many Americans.
I think what we used to refer to as living in an ivory tower, is now called "living in silos". Not as colorful an image, and to me seems awfully limited, which is what it means, I guess. The Catch 22 is that for the past weeks we have been told that staying in our "silo" is necessary for the health of the nation. As I've worked, plodded, thought my way through isolation, I've come to realize that the larger world has done just fine without my rescuing anyone. Now that is a blow to my ego. I've always worked under the premise that it was my job to "help" everyone. That was how I justified taking up space on the planet. Now I need a new reason for being here. So now, what is important to me is different. Now expanding my patience with Chris and taking care of him is really important. Any time I get to spend with my daughter; calls, text or now even lunch, is really important. Calling my sister & brother-in-law on Sundays is really important. Sharing text and calls with my younger brother and sis-in-law is really important. Writing to our granddaughters is really important. I want to get our names on a list of supporters for racial equality and become a prayer partner for peace and justice in our new city. And I want to try my hand at all kinds of art media. I want to paint in oils, and buy the 150 pencil set of Prismacolors, just to see what I can create. Now I know that I can't save the world. Now I know it's OK if I'm not even a good artist. What I have to offer the world is from my heart. So if I am true to myself, honest with others, and try to spread love, then my place on earth is OK. --Donna I have to admit that I have not spent a significant amount of time during this unprecedented time to question my priorities. But since I am at home more, I believe that I have become even more conscious of the struggles that many people face; whether it be financial, health, justice or domestic violence. I have also become more aware of how fortunate I am to not have any of these issues in my life at this moment. What actions, other than financial donations, will I take to change these problems? I’m not really sure at this time. On a personal note, one thing that has become more important to me, is to find some urban wilderness or gardens to spend some time in periodically. The gathering place and the OSU experimental gardens are lovely this time of the year with all the beautiful flowers in bloom. Exploring them, not only do I get much needed exercise, but I come away uplifted and my soul is restored. --Jeanette |
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January 2022
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