systemic racism

Yesterday I had the pleasure of debriefing the movie Black Panther with four young ladies that are close to entering the real world. I learned so much from them. I walked away both encouraged and pained.

Let me tell you why.

I was encouraged because they are exceptionally aware of the world around them. They saw Wakanda not only as a world untouched by colonialism, but they imagined a world where that could be the reality for people who look like them. They still cling to that hope. THAT was beautiful. They saw strong, intelligent, loyal, black women who were not objectified. Women who were beautiful in their baldness and natural hair. Dark skinned women that looked like them. They saw black men and women portrayed in a positive light, seen as royalty and holding positions of power. Something they have never really seen in film.

I asked these young women a series of questions, and the dialogue just poured out of them. I asked which character they connected with the most. One said Okoye because of her fierce loyalty, and a couple of others said Killmonger. Now this didn’t surprise me at all. In the end we agreed that we all have a little Killmonger inside of us. They understood that his pain went much further than the murder of his father and abandonment by his people. They recognized that his pain pierced his soul. That his pain was for the oppression of his people… our people.

Now let me share that I never led their responses. I asked questions… and they spilled.

The gates of frustration opened when talking about Killmonger. What they have experienced in the charter school that they attend (where they are the minority) was much hard to hear, and still weighs heavily on my heart.

One felt scared when she originally went to this school, surrounded by people who didn’t look like her, but she did it anyway and has almost completed her fourth year. The one thing that blessed me about her is the confidence she has in herself, because of the women in her life that have poured into her. The confidence in her natural hair, the confidence in her beauty, and the confidence to enter white dominated spaces and create a space for herself and for others who may not feel they belong. I see her busting through glass ceilings. There is no single box that can fit her.

Another young woman pierced my soul. She reminded me of myself. Trying to find her way. Not knowing her true history angers her and she longs to be fully immersed in black culture to grasp at something. She has a deep desire to know who she is. Dealing with micro-aggressions and tokenization has had her and another precious soul weary. Hearing “Y’all”, the constant “othering,” and that you’re either talking “white” or inappropriate comments about their African-American Vernacular English (AAVE), causing them to feel singled out and shamed.

Their awareness of racial discrimination in their schools pained me. The obvious insensitivity from teachers and very clear biases towards their black students was overwhelming, but sadly not shocking.

I’ve read studies and articles regarding black boys and girls being disciplined, suspended, and even expelled at disproportionate rates from their white counterparts, but hearing ACTUAL EXPERIENCES took it to a whole other level. I mean, they could have kept talking if we had the time. The examples were there. The impact of personal biases and racism on a systemic level was staring me right in the face.

You see, this is why I find it so vital to have conversations with people. It helps us look past the stats, talking points, political bent and just connect through the human experience – realizing that the people we often speak of are actual flesh and blood. Often times I say and hear others say “LISTEN TO BLACK VOICES”, because many simply do not feel heard… even our youth. I think part of the problem lies with the lack of human contact. Diversifying our experiences with human beings can help us break out of our bubble. I say this with the utmost humility. I LIVED in a bubble myself, and the way that I viewed people was both unhealthy and damaging BECAUSE of that bubble.

Decolonizing our minds is a process. A painful one, but one that is worth pursuing.

I asked the girls… “how do we prevent that Killmonger inside of us from taking over?”

This is where self-care comes in:

Setting boundaries

Protecting your space

Leaving room for grace – ‘you don’t know what you don’t know’

Well, I expect to continue this dialogue next month because they said they didn’t want that inner Killmonger taking over. They desire true conciliation. They desire Wakanda to exist, and they have real hope that it will. They desire to be confident in who God made them to be and they desire to be more than an “other.” They desire to just BE.

#recess

Recently I decided to participate in a poverty simulation with Unite Greater Dallas. It was called COPE, The Cost of Poverty Experience. I was given the role of a 10yr old AA boy. My character(who is a real person) has African-American mother and father. His mother is a stay at home mom and expecting another child. His father is employed and rely’s on public transportation to get around. The family can only afford a one bedroom apartment so therefore my character sleeps on the couch and to top it all off has ADHD and is beginning to act out.

*From this point on I will type as if I am in character.

We were told to get in character as much as we could. All of the families where taking an hour of our day to fast track what it is like to live a month in poverty. We were given folders which outlined our assets, expenses and activities that needed to happen that month. For instance, my families assets where a T.V. and Stereo. My mother had to go to a prenatal appointment, both of my parents had to make it to AA and they had to get my ADHD medication. That’s just a few of the responsibilities my parents had. Each 15min equaled one week in the life of my family.

The first week I had to go to school first. Meanwhile my parents were running around like chickens with their heads cut off trying to pay bills, purchase bus passes, work, buy groceries, go to AA, Pawn shop, prenatal ect. I was let out of school 6min into the “week” and told to go anywhere. I chose to go home and wait on my parents to get home. As soon as they got home they were trying to figure out a plan to get through the next week while assessing what they did and did not accomplish. I just sat there.

*The facilitator got everyone’s attention and asked who fed their family that week. Out of 10-15 groups only 2-3 families raised their hand.

The next week I went to school again and instead of waiting until I was released I left early. I went straight to the food market and stole a banana. I was then arrested for stealing. Time was up. It was time to go back home and prepare for the next week. I let my parents know that I was arrested and they continued trying to figure out what to do for the next week.

*The facilitator announces that it is spring break.

My parents look at each other and are like “what are we going to do with him?”. They are planning to pawn the stereo and the t.v. so that they can pay the electric bill and then realize that they shouldn’t pawn the t.v. because I’ll need something to keep me occupied. They figure out the plan and in the meantime are “gifted” with a free voucher for my ADHD medication. Let week three begin.

Well, while they are trying to pay the electricity I am left with nothing to do so I take it upon myself to find something to do. I stole food from strangers(wasn’t caught), smoke cigarettes with the local dealer. My dad catches me on the street and took me home. He gives me a lecture on drug usage and I throw it right back in his face. I get back out and steal money from the local store and then I am arrested…..again. My mother noticed that I was in jail and comes to try to get me out. Due to my parents not showing up to my last hearing(because they were unaware) they could not get me out and CPS got involved. TIMES UP!

Week four happens…..

By then end of the month I was arrested twice, only my father made it to AA, my mother had to choose between going to her prenatal appointment or getting my ADHD medication because each required a co-pay that they could not afford. She went to her prenatal. CPS was involved. My dad tried to by alcohol but they were closed when he went. I remember my mother telling me to go the faith center after school in week four. I did not. Why? Because at this point I did not trust adults. I kept getting in trouble for doing things that I felt I needed to do. I was hungry and my parents needed money. I was off my meds for the entire month and there was not a single fun thing that I did with my parents. I felt like a burden and I’d be even more of a burden once my sibling was born. I even remember how if felt hearing my parents rejoice when school was back in session. They had somewhere to put me.

*I’m stepping out of character now.

Each time I was arrested I was bawling. This wasn’t an act. Like I said, the character I was playing is an actual child. That alone is what pierced my heart to the core. As I described my experience I could not stop crying. My husband and I have worked with at risk youth for over ten years. We know what they are going through. We know youth who have gone to juve. We hear their pain and we have walked with them. But this…..

This situation broke me.

I saw a child who felt alone but I also saw parents that LOVED this child but had to do what they had to do just to survive. I saw parents who are battling addictions and the system only perpetuated it. I didn’t mention and we did not know, but we, as an African-American family were treated differently. The people who played my parents where white but we all had to wear red bracelets which signified that we were an African American family. The people who played “resources” had to treat us with various biases. We did not know this until the end.

I chose to participate in this experience because of Abide. As I’ve been looking more closely at my community I realize that things must be handled even more delicately and the people must be central to any programs in place. South Dallas has a history that is filled with a tremendous amount of pain via segregation, racism, corruption and sheer hatred of its people. Dallas has a treacherous history of KKK involvement and Fair Park(an entertainment hub for people in DFW) has a history that screams of White Supremacy. But this is the history and history impacts our future. So as I look at the past of my community I can see better how to serve in the present. One way is through relationships. Breaking patterns of distrust is a key element here and I know that it’s going to take a solid foundation in biblical truth that will help guide us.

“Owe no one anything, except to love each other, for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law.” – Romans 13:8

And just as it took generations of oppressive systems to create this beast, it will require a tremendous amount of time and patience to heal a community that has suffered much trauma. But let us not put God and His capacity to bring about restoration in a box. I have much hope for Sunny South D. The poverty experience did what is should have done. It broke me and it should break you. My hope is that our hearts will break for what breaks His so that we may be driven to seek racial conciliation and the physical, financial and spiritual restoration of our city. My hope is that God will use the people of South Dallas(fellow image bearers of Christ) to heal the hearts of those in positions of power and cause everyone to pursue further introspection of ones own heart.

Someone asked me recently, if I could share one thing about South Dallas, what would it be? Today my answer is that South Dallas consists of your brothers and your sisters who are worthy of dignity, love and respect. We are image bearers of Christ and we must not be forgotten or looked upon with pity. We are Sunny South D a place where hope lies and dreams can come true. We seek gospel centered justice and that power lies in not us alone….but you.

For by the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think, but to think with sober judgement, each according to the measure of faith that God has assigned. For as in one body we have many members, and the members do not all have the same function, so we, though many, are one body in Christ, and individually members one of another. Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them: if prophecy, in proportion to our faith; if service, in our serving; the one who teaches, in his teaching; the one who exhorts, in his exhortation; the one who contributes, in generosity; the one who leads, with zeal; the one who does acts of mercy, with cheerfulness. – Romans 12:3-8

#recess

Every person who works with people needs to experience COPE. Every teacher, politician, government employee, healthcare worker…everyone. Please find one near you and register. http://www.unitethechurch.org/cope

Remember that we can take a vacation from work, a break from reality but you cannot take a “break” from poverty.
https://www.dmagazine.com/frontburner/2015/07/dallas-fort-worth-has-the-worst-income-inequality-by-neighborhood-in-the-u-s/

R.E.C.E.S.S.

A small space created by building part of a wall further back from the rest.

Through the Eyes of our Youth #wakandaforever

The Cost of Poverty Experience