Religion is a space where the boundaries of God are fortified through tension and reified through reformation. It avails itself to a strong critique while offering solutions that are filled with active love. Oftentimes, this is not the picture that is painted by the Christian church. Walter, in part 7, introduced the notion of a space where Black people are given the freedom to be, inextricably, themselves. One of the few spaces where black people can relive their liberation is the black church. The black church has provided black folks with a liberating space where their visibility and presence is honored. Racism loses its power within the midst of this fictive kinship.
Racism is a retardant that hinders sound judgement from processing. The oppress are influenced to look past their oppression and reinterpret it as security, instead of seeking freedom. Racism discourages freedom because freedom fuels intellect. Consequently, it is hard to keep intelligent people oppressed. No longer can the plight of white power and white privilege be held as doctrines of a constructed god, who dehumanizes and beguiles black people into believing that oppression is acceptable and godly. When the oppressed start to rebel against the oppressor, their words against oppression are labeled as radicalized hatred. James Baldwin declares this is when
“white power is broken.”
Baldwin also proclaims that when this white power is broken:
“an English man can’t tell an African what it means to be African and he believes it; a white man can’t tell a negro what it means to be a negro and he believes it, anymore.”
The black church has been the space where our humanity is unquestionable. It has been the sacred site of resistance where beauty emerges in spite of pain and trauma. The black church, constantly reconstructing herself as the avant-guard against this constructed, neo-liberal god that sanctions racism. The black church is a complex institution, constantly on the front-lines fighting against racism. It is a creative space where black genius reclaims the identity of Jesus. A Jesus that racism refuses to accept or serve.
In his last installment Brian writes, “we must be extremely clear of the danger of entering into spaces where your skin color has (been) weaponized and framed you with a malicious intent” in response of my reference to Luke 17:11-19. I refer to the ten people with leprosy being forced out of mainstream society and out to the borderlands as a parallel to the treatment of people of African descent in this country. I may have erroneously indicated that people of African descent have an option to stay in the borderland in relative safety. However, that was not my intent. The point I intended to make was/is that people of African descent are keenly aware that there are no safe spaces in this country for us. History has shown time and again that not even the church is a safe space for us. As a people, we have learned that even staying in the spaces where we have been pushed and limited to occupying does not ensure safety. We have also learned that staying in the borderland is not an option.
A Tribe Called Quest has just released their last studio recording and one of the tracks is titled “The Space Program.” This track speaks to the notion of making space for people of African descent in this country. Using the recurring hook, “ain’t no space program for niggas.” As much as I detest the word “nigga,” I felt its use here is appropriate and would pray that my inclusion of this word does not sidetrack the conversation. For in many ways debates about the use of the word “nigga” or other side debates take the focus off of the real problem that the Tribe is addressing. This track calls us to understand that space is not limited to physical, geographic space but rather refers to social, cultural, and historic space. People of African descent are often denied space in this country. The teaching of African American history has faced opposition and hostility even in school districts that are more than 80% African American. The use of the name “African American” itself ignites debate and hostile opposition. People of African descent are often invited out of the borderland to sing, dance, and/or play a sport with the understanding that no space will be made for you. African American culture is often co-opted, from rock and roll to hip hop, from soul food to spirituals. There is no space for people of African descent.
Yet, we survive. We continue to exist and that existence cannot be denied. It is the denial of our existence; the lack of space being made that continues to fuel the conflict. We are here and we are not going anywhere. The simple but complex answer to our racial problem in America is the creation of a space program for people of African descent.
The road to integration is an unforgiving assault on the hearts and minds of black clergy that serve in predominately white denominations. The continuous reshaping to make one’s authenticity fit into another’s warped shape of the Gospel becomes a perpetual task that tries to hijack one’s sense of being. The tragedy of being present, in spaces, where my humanity is only confirmed by my acceptance to assimilation is a solidarity to injustice, which I refuse to accept.
It is clear that the many within the ELCA camp voted for Donald Trump. (Lenny Duncan wrote a good piece about it) I am left to wrestle with this problem, “Why I am in the ELCA?” Why do I continue to connect with people who are so opposed to equality, equity, and justice? I used to say it was a sense of calling to the mission fields of whiteness but now I stand bewildered beyond reasonable thought. The constant awareness of having to explain your presence is insulting. I was assisting with the officiating of a funeral at the church. It was a very small funeral so there were no ushers. I took the liberty to greet friends and family as they arrived. Well, as I was opening the door, a lady comes to the door and says, “I almost ran when I saw this big, black man standing at the door.” Why am I in the ELCA?
Every day, it feels like the very essence of my being is sucked out of me. There are a lot of good people in the ELCA but there is no emotional safety. The task of naming and eradicating racism has been co-opted as racial reconciliation: the place where Black and Brown must become like us (white) instead of us becoming like them.
There were moments, when I thought that being in the ELCA was an honorable journey. I understood that it would be a hard road ahead, but I never considered the theological racism that masks itself as legacy and doctrine to be such a high mountain to climb. My faith has run out of faulty forgiveness that amounts to more opportunities to be dehumanized. I am tired of hearing that this is just how Lutherans are…The truth is that a Lutheranism that is still steeped 1517 rhetoric and liturgy never really had me in mind from the beginning.
There is absolutely no protection from racism in the church. As much as I would like to say that the church is a true embodiment of Christ, I am displeased to admit that it may be the most embarrassing part of Christ. The subtle notion that we are all children of God gets swallowed up in the evil construct of race. The thought of compromising how worship is conducted in order to best serve the community is overlooked in order to keep with a dying tradition.
Honestly, it is a lie to speak about inclusion but never present oneself as inclusive. The church has managed to promote such a lie on a continuous basis. The church has made proclamations of being inviting only to rescind those invitations when folks are unwilling to assimilate into a prison of pseudo-joy –the Sunday experience of worship.
When the imago dei (image of God) is structured to represent those in places of perceived power, atheism appears to be a viable institution.
Inevitably, racism becomes a prime component of what it means to be Christian in a space where black bodies are weaponized. When this happens, no longer is grace a bilateral covenantal gift from God but a right reserved for those who assimilate properly. Racism shapes itself to this form of identity where only those who are willing to conform to dominate culture are seen as Christ-like and worthy to be humanized.
Racism thus changes the Gospel from liberation into church propaganda where grace is earn by simply being white.
One of the most confounding and frustrating aspects of living as a person of African descent in this country is how the majority population responds to our depictions of racism. Responses take various forms but essentially boil down to “suffer in silence.” People of African descent who expose racist acts or who continually speak out against racism are charged with being divisive, race baiting, overreacting, and the list goes on. Well meaning people have said and sincerely believe that those who are being oppressed by racism make their condition worse by speaking out. These well meaning folks advise silence as the solution and this is frustrating for the person being oppressed.
History does not support this claim. Oppression has never ended simply because the oppressor came to his or her senses. There has to be pressure applied in order for change to occur. In this situation, the change will only come when it is no longer only the minorities who are speaking out. There are those of good will that want to see racism end but are uncomfortable and may even feel attacked when racism is exposed. The hurdle is to not take the exposure as a personal attack but simply as a statement of fact. We are still a country that has a way to go before we are truly the “land of the free and home of the brave.” We have ways to go before we are can truly say, “with liberty and justice for ALL.”
The command to stop talking about racism; to keep silent is an affront to the struggle to end racism. As well intended as this advice or instruction (which is problematic as well) may be, it denies a certain dignity to those who are suffering. Richard Rohr writes, “The body can live without food easier than the soul can live without meaning.” By telling a group of people to be quiet and stop talking about your suffering you are saying your life does not have meaning. Your life is not even worth talking about never mind being worth saving. So please, don’t tell someone who is suffering from the effects of racism to be quiet and stop talking about it. Instead, tell the racist to stop being racist.