I recently had the privilege of presenting a paper
at the Wesleyan Philosophical Society meeting at Asbury Theological
Seminary. When I received the message
that informed me my paper had been accepted, I vacillated between ridiculous
levels of excitement and being quite sure I was going to vomit. There’s some history to that. As an introvert, I do pretty well when I have
a platform, and this was surely a platform.
It’s been a long time since I would describe myself as ‘shy,’ but every
single time I speak publicly; I do remember what it felt like to drop out of
high school speech class and to take my college speech requirement online! Public speaking used to be painstakingly
difficult for me. I’m used to it now,
but it can still be daunting in specific circumstances.
I am also sort of ‘slow to warm.’ I may have written a little bit about this in
a post about the last conference I attended.
It doesn’t take me an inappropriately vast amount of time to get
comfortable with my surroundings, but it can
take several hours or maybe even an entire day.
If I’m referring to a place or event or group of people with which/whom
there will be an ongoing relationship; a few hours is no big deal. Conferences are weird, though. They only last so long. The faster I can get
comfortable, the better, especially if I’m going to take the stage on day 1!
I had several petty concerns (note to self, wearing false
nails and pants that are covered in glitter might be something to reconsider in
the future) and one significantly important one (note to self, if PowerPoint
matters, it’s time to get an Apple device, because no one has adapters for PC!). But, all of that worked out alright. What seemed, perhaps, insurmountable was the
fact that the papers before mine were incredibly academic in nature. I’m not sure what I expected, but the more I
think about it; I simply did not know what
to expect. It was my first academic
conference. I got the distinct
impression that most people do not present at their first academic conference. It was an honor. And it was OK that I had no idea what I was
doing!
All of the feedback I received was positive.
“You did a great job.”
“You hit it out of the park.” Really?
“Your paper resonated… was enjoyable… etc…”
“It’s obvious that you’ve done a lot of public
speaking.” (Cue choking on my drink.)
“Thanks for your paper.” (Wait… maybe that’s the line you say when
there is nothing else to say… I heard it
once…)
For the most part, I replied with, “Thank you,” but
I did select a few key people with whom to lean toward self deprecation
(because I knew, for sure, my paper was less than academic!). I did this, because as much as I appreciate compliments,
I am also always looking for constructive criticism that will help me to do
better… to be better… next time.
So, upon proclaiming, “Thank you, but next time I’ll
know to write something more academic, use more sources, etc.,” I did notice a
slight shift in our conversations.
Let me reiterate, it was slight.
Now I heard things like, “Sure… but it was great for a first paper.”
“Yes… but it’s great that you got to present your
first time here!”
“Actually, it was kind of refreshing.” (Undoubtedly, that was my favorite one!)
Asking people whom I love and trust to speak
truthfully about not only the positive aspects but the negative ones, as well,
will undoubtedly make me a better scholar in the future. And this, of course, got me thinking…
We can only speak this kind of truth into the lives
of people who welcome it.
I’m a realist, so I am probably never going to say
nice things simply for the sake of making people feel good. I do, however, look for the legitimate good
in things, and I have found that there is almost always something nice to say. If I’m
speaking with someone I don’t know; I’ll leave it at that. A complete stranger legitimately does not care
about what I think he or she might be doing better in his or her life. That’s the easy part.
It gets trickier with the people we know and
love. We do, indeed, have a
responsibility to be honest with them, to help them become the best people they
can be in any given moment. And I think
the hardest part of all of that is discerning which people will welcome that
kind of truth and which people are not yet ready, because sometimes even the
people who ask for it do not really want it! There’s probably an entire post about false
humility in that… often found in the negative statements people make about
themselves or their work when they actually just want you to refute what they’ve
said with a repeated positive, an endorsement, or continued external affirmation. That is so
exhausting!
Constructive criticism used to be much harder for me
than it is now. Don’t misunderstand, it’s
not as if I love hearing about my faults, but I do appreciate honesty,
especially if it helps to shape and form me into someone better.
L.
Also… a couple of people have asked for a transcript
of the paper, so here it is in its original form, although I did diverge
slightly while presenting… at least once to confess that I had dropped a note card
and once to indicate that I was relieved that Eric Severson was not sitting in
the room, just in case I really messed up in regard to citing his book (which
is one of my favorites)!
Consequences of
White Privilege
L Michaels
WPS Meeting,
2017
For
decades, the topic of racism has been largely ignored by the philosophical
community, while minority groups continue to suffer injustices at the hands of
frightened and narcissistic bigots who lack understanding regarding the
importance of diversity and the significance of human worth. Somehow,
many people have embraced whiteprivilege without stopping to consider the
consequences. If being white means that
we have the right to safety and security and the pursuit of our own happiness,
even at the expense of others, then the problem here is two-fold
The
first and most pressing issue is oppression.
Prejudice and fear, created by a lack of relationship and cultural
understanding, often prevent people who are part of minority groups from being
empowered, educated, or even loved in the ways they deserve, as people created
Imago Dei, just like the people who look more like us! Clearly, this kind of segregation and
separation leads to a disparity in opportunity, and this may stunt human
development in those who are discriminated against.
But,
because this is a systemic problem, we must also focus on the often overlooked underlying
issue wherein racism and segregation also stunt human development in those who are prejudiced and fearful, because they
do not grow in love and virtue, as they were intended to. The result is a cyclical generational pattern
that grows worse as these characteristics are further embedded within the
culture and become the cultural norms, because people only recognize issues
from within, if they haven’t become generally acceptable standards.
To
be fair, there is a large segment of the white population who simply do not
understand that racism is a problem. We
all know that the familiar is comfortable.
It’s not difficult to sit down in a room full of people who look exactly
like you, who believe everything you believe, and who hold to all the same
traditions and rhythms of life. These
are not platforms for tense and awkward debate, and those of us who dislike
conflict find ourselves heaving huge sighs of relief when we don’t have to
engage in it. But these are also not
situations in which any real learning takes place, and the danger is that when
we only enter into relationship with people who are just like us; we allow
group thoughts, ideas, opinions, philosophies, and theologies to grow, even
when we’re wrong! Ignorance is no excuse,
but, rather, it is an opportunity to educate people who might care deeply about
this issue, if they were aware. As humans, we tend to be unaware of problems
that don’t directly impact our everyday
lives—at least not in tangible ways.
This is one good reason for sharing our stories and listening intently
to the narratives of others. I can
remember being a young, idealistic adult and proclaiming, “Racism is
dead!” But I spent many of my formative
years in an all white community, so I didn’t have the context I needed to make
such a statement.
Actually,
I am a product of the Detroit ‘whiteflight’ movement that occurred in the early
1980s. I’m not proud of it, but I was
seven years old, so I also didn’t have any power to do anything about it at the
time. After an afternoon of playing in
the front yard with my new neighbors, who happened to have darker skin than I
have, I can remember my dad declaring that we were moving before any more of
‘those people’ came into the neighborhood, apparently making it an unsafe
environment in which to raise a child.
Shortly thereafter, he put his childhood home up for sale, and we made
our way to the country—an idyllic small town America setting, very literally a
few minutes’ drive from the home of the grand dragon of the KKK. We had acres and acres of land and only white
people with whom to associate. For a
child who had begun her life in a culturally rich area, it was devastating. It was as if we had traded in the theater
sized, full color, surround sound life system for some bunny ears and static on
a black and white… but mostly white… 12 inch screen. It bothered me for awhile, but over the next
decade, I grew desensitized to my monochromatic world. I don’t remember ever feeling as if I was better than someone else because of the
color of my skin or as if I was somehow entitled to a better life. In fact, I would have voiced just the
opposite. But whitepriveledge does,
indeed, make us feel differently. Even the very best of us, even the most inclusive, are viewing social
action and advocacy from a skewed lens.
I
have often observed a ‘super hero mentality’ among individuals from majority
groups. Those of us who claim that we
desire diversity often hold authority over those of different races by using
language that is patronizing. We’re
going to be the ones who step in and enable
people of various ethnicities and races to secure jobs that are almost as good as ours. We’re
going to be their employers. We’re going to enable them to pursue higher education. Well, first of all, I don’t know anyone who wants to be enabled. As a female pastor, this hit close to home
when a male colleague of mine began talking about what a great enabler he was
of women in ministry. If you take a
cursory glance at the definition of enable, it sounds nice: to make able; to
give power, means, competence, or ability to; to authorize. But all of this assumes that we are the
gatekeepers, and if we’re really nice, wonderful people, we will permit others do something of
significance. It indicates that there is
some sort of deficiency that must be overcome.
This assumes that the other needs our consent, because they are incapable and incompetent without our approval.
Of course, these are only lies we tell ourselves, perhaps to maintain
control, to keep hold of our perceived power.
My temptation, even today, is to declare that there is no ‘us and them.’ But because we have created an ‘us and them’
mentality and lived into this reality for so long, there is much work to be
done to become a people who wholeheartedly embrace the concept of
inclusivity.
The
very best among us seem to have this picture in our minds where we go out into
the world beyond our safe and secure zones, and we rescue people. Let me be the first to admit my guilt. We might even be such incredible human beings
that we listen to them. We might provide
resources. And all of this—it’s
good. But what happens more often than
not is that when we’re presented with a platform, we mount the steps. The spotlight falls on us. And I feel as if I can just hear the booming
microphone as we declare,
“Now,
I… the great, white… champion… will tell
your story.”
We
think we’ve got it down. And we are so
proud.
But
the truth is, it’s easier to tell a sterilized version of someone else’s story—particularly
if it makes us look good in the process—than it is to just get vulnerable and
share our own, admitting that we might not be the heroes, in fact, we might be
the villains.
I
recently read the following quote from Parker Palmer’s book, the Courage to
Teach: "When we reject that with which we cannot become intimate, our
lives are diminished."[i]
There’s
so much beauty in this statement, and I think it is essentially true, but I’d
like to make one alteration. I tend to
be fairly adamant about pushing back when anyone tells me that something is
impossible, or that I cannot do
something, so I think our ability to intimately relate with others is only
limited by how far we are willing to
go. I would propose that when we reject
that with which we are unwilling to
become intimate, our lives are diminished.
When we intentionally seek safety and power for ourselves as opposed to
solidarity within community, we miss out on what a full life should look
like. In the church world, we seem to
have mistaken materialistic success for blessing, at the expense of
relationships.
Now,
I highly doubt that the vast majority of people who care enough about this
issue to read (or listen to) this paper are in any way directly culpable for the oppression of other human beings. And in fact, when I’ve taken the time to
listen to those who legitimately believe that all things are equal for all
people, a common defensive statement that I’ve heard is, “I’m not responsible for
what happened in the past… for what my ancestors did… for slavery… for
segregation…” The list goes on and on.
I’ve also heard things like, “We have to take care of our own, first,”
or, “They should pull themselves up by their bootstraps,” or, “Everyone has the
same opportunities for success here, they should pave their own way.”
Are
we even Wesleyan? We need to be responsible!
A
book that changed my perspective, and subsequently the way I live, was Scandalous Obligation, by Eric Severson. He writes, “There is a strange brand of
comfort afforded by cynicism, which justifies inaction by identifying the
potential perils of every action.”[ii] From a Wesleyan perspective, we are a ‘doing’
people. Therefore, these common excuses
that may be offered to justify discrimination are inadequate. We don’t get to say things that place the
focus on our own inconvenience as opposed to the genuine suffering of others. Wesley
was passionate about ministering to the least of these and creating
community. In many ways, the racial
segregation in our culture has created a place for people who aren’t white as the least of these, even when they
are often as capable, or more capable, than we are! By oppressing them, we have limited the
ability for healing and growth, offering fewer opportunities to minority
groups, and we have also deprived ourselves, and the world at large, of their
contributions. Justice and empathy must
be present to be fully Wesleyan. The
church must embrace everyone, equally, because morality is about community and
seeing beyond ourselves to the needs of others.
Without this, we are not the people we claim to be. I propose that we are required to live in
such a way that we may achieve
intimacy with those who are different than us, and that we are responsible for the pain and healing of our neighbors, even if
not directly culpable.
But
how do we bridge the gap between races?
We could begin by living in commonality with others, entering into
relationships in order to understand the struggle and suffering and to bring
about justice, growth, and healing.
This
sounds good, but it is problematic, because, again, from Severson, “We live
away from, and drive around, the parts of the world where suffering and poverty
go hand in hand. The things we eat, play
with, wear, and enjoy are isolated from their histories. We like it that way.”[iii]
And
everyone says, “Of course we do!” Even
if a segregated result was not our intention, time and time again we have seen
churches move out of the city, move out of the ‘rough neighborhoods,’ move away
from the people who have no means to follow.
This pattern is also evident in good schools. It’s whiteflight all over again.
Any
of us, who have lived our lives with any kind of privilege, at all, know that
it would be crazy to choose suffering
and poverty. It makes no sense from the
intellectual perspective of a culture that encourages us to get everything we
can and to give only what we absolutely must.
But sometimes doing what is right is not the same thing as doing what
the culture dictates. Unless or until we
become willing to fully empathize (not just minimally sympathize) with the
oppression of our diverse brothers and sisters, we will never become intimate
enough to make any real change in the world, for the sake of the Kingdom. And with that, one more quote from Scandalous Obligation, “To care and to
love is to be vulnerable.”[iv]
Popular or not, we can choose
vulnerability.
Just
as we should make the shift between cannot and will not, we should also make
the shift between enabling and empowering.
To
empower is to relinquish our authority, often in an official or even legal
capacity. By employing strategies of empowerment
as opposed to enabling; the white, Christian community can say to our brothers
and sisters of other races, “I recognize that you are already competent and capable: I recognize that as a human being,
you may already be better at things than I am.
I don’t need to make you
better. I certainly don’t need to make
you like me (as if that’s better). I just need to recognize your already
extraordinary worth.” It puts the
burden on those of us who have experienced privilege as opposed to those who
have not. We are culpable, and we need to take a step back without requiring
credit or accolades for our great responsibility. We need to extend shared leadership where it
is appropriate, and we need to abdicate leadership, altogether, if someone else
(regardless of race, sex, national origin… gosh, I’m starting to sound like an
application waiver—but, really, if anyone
else) is more qualified.
If
you’ve ever engaged in any kind of ministry, and I think the percentage of
people in this room that have done so and are doing so is probably close to
100%, you know there are advantages for both the minister and those to whom we
minister. Diverse relationships work
much in the same way, and, at least from my perspective, it’s not even a huge
stretch to decide we are going to advocate for our brothers and sisters who
have different skin tones. It’s the kind
of thing that legitimately shouldn’t be an issue anymore, but it is, because we
have allowed it to stay so by refusing to recognize their struggle and by
refusing to let them speak into our lives.
When we push people down in such a way that they can only say the things
we approve of, that they can only share perspectives that we understand or
culture that we already embrace; everybody loses.
So
let’s be very clear, we are not somehow creating space for people of lesser
intelligence, ability, or worth to sort of ‘make it.’ We’re just getting out of the way, because
we’ve been in the spotlight too long, and we’re all missing out on the beauty
of diverse cultural traditions and rhythms, because these things have been
allocated to a dark corner somewhere, as taboo.
It’s time to not only speak unifying truth from the platforms we’re
given. It’s time to relinquish those
platforms, entirely, and to recognize that this is not a sacrifice on our part.
Everyone benefits, as we become better
able to realize the universal Kingdom of God, here and now.
[i]Parker J. Palmer, The Courage to Teach: Exploring the
Inner Landscape of a Teacher's Life (San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass, 2007),
91.
[ii]Eric R. Severson, Scandalous Obligation: Rethinking Christian
Responsibility (Kansas City: Beacon Hill of Kansas City, 2011), 24. Print.
[iii]Severson,
36.
[iv]Severson, 155.
