Some time ago I had an interaction on Twitter with Andre Mitchell, a Black pastor in Indiana. I did not know him at the time—all I remember, really, is seeing in my Twitter feed a statement from him: “It’s on white people to fix racism in America.”
Now, that might seem controversial to some. Maybe you don’t want to acknowledge that racism in America is a thing, as it died out so long ago & the only thing holding Black Americans back is lack of initiative or spending too much money on foolish things or not having strong families—or whatever the excuse is that you use to explain away the obvious truth that in America to be born white is to be born free; all other must pay a tax, every day, for not being white. Maybe you don’t want to acknowledge that our present national character is formed by our national mythos, which says that America was founded as a land of equal opportunity for all, and therefore anyone can succeed in America if they just apply themselves. (I will bet that the Indigenous and the enslaved Africans would beg to differ about that founding and that supposed “freedom to succeed.”)
But it is a truth universally acknowledged that America is centered on the success, promotion, pleasure, and whims of white people. White people control the levers of power in America, whether economic, political, educational, employment, religious, social, or cultural. We’re not only a majority-white country, we are a nation that has worked diligently—with all of us cooperating!—to keep it this way even as America’s people are shifting in composition.
And racism is deeply, thoroughly, widely embedded into the American fabric. It is not just the embroidery that decorates the flag—it is the warp and weft that comprise the cloth.
This is just how it is, whether we feel good about facing it or not.
I’ve been working for a while on educating myself about this. There’s a long, boring story behind that, which you can read elsewhere as a summation. Enough to say that for a bit more than a decade I’ve tried to untwist myself from my racism and my superiority, the twinned serpents twisting on the caduceus of American strength, and I’ve been trying to learn how to be a whole person who loves and embraces and defers and rejoices in the beauty, even the existence, of others. I have a long road ahead of me, should God give me another breath, but I think I’ve come a bit of a way along the path. I’ve made a start.
Now, this pastor didn’t ask me to do a thing about it. He wasn’t speaking to me directly. He just posted something on Twitter that happened to catch my eye, got me to pay attention, and prompted me to reply with a very foolish & over-confident statement: If no one else will, I will.
Of course, there are many white Americans who are working to extirpate racism and replace it with love and dignity and empathy. I am nowhere the first or best or most exemplary of these. I’m just a guy who doesn’t have much influence anywhere. But I said I’d do what I can.
And I said that I’d just take every opportunity that came my way, and I’d do it. I used the analogy of a door: if one came along the path, I’d twist the knob, and if it opened—I’d walk through it, and then do what was asked of me in the pursuit of justice, holiness, equity, and love.
I will say this: I thought I was risking very little. Remember, I’m a small man with a small voice. So I thought I was both safe and brave: I would make a statement that sounded good but expected it would be only a bit of a stretch to fulfill.
God is good, though, and takes you where you are when you’re yielded, then guides you into the adventure. I can’t say how this happened or why, but I did just this: tried the knob of every door, and when I opened, I went through it. The thing that surprised me at first was that no door was locked, and still isn’t. They all keep opening when I try the handle.
One thing led to another (and is still leading to others), and I landed in the position of writing for an online publication on Medium.com, Our Human Family. I developed a relationship with the Editorial Director, Clay Rivers, and after some conversations, he asked me to join the team as an editor, a position where I bring a mix of talents. I worked with the publication for a while, and then was asked to contribute an essay to the latest special project, an anthology about allyship.
The doorknob turned, and I walked through. It was a challenge for me because I was asked to write about a topic that I feel very underqualified to write about, and I struggled with finding the “voice” for the article. What was I going to say, and would I say anything useful?
I was sitting at my desk in front of a blank screen when another pastor friend called. He just wanted to talk. The gist was the frustration he felt over being a Black pastor in a group of fellow clergy, where his white counterparts simply didn’t listen to him when he spoke words to them. Oh, they can parse the Greek and the Hebrew with the best of them, scan commentaries and glean ancient truths, dig into the texts to find the “real meaning” of a passage, and then teach on that text to their flocks. But when it came to listening to him, a Black man with a Black wife and Black children with a Black congregation, it was as if there was nothing Black about him or anyone or anything. Somehow the church had found a way to solve racism in America, and the solution was brain-dead simple: we just don’t acknowledge it.
We talked on the phone for a while. I love this guy, acknowledge his integrity, enjoy his preaching, and deeply, deeply appreciate the friendship we have. I tried to listen, mostly, but sometimes I did say stuff. I shared what I see from my perspective as a white male Christian, a layman with no aspirations or talent for church leadership, but with a long experience of being in white-oriented and white-led churches. I shared my own very limited insights into communicating with my own kind—white Christian men—and how difficult it was to get any kind of thought across that perhaps we had gotten it quite wrong about race in America, and maybe it was time for the white church to both acknowledge and then repent of its part in creating, establishing, and evangelizing white racism.
What can you do, really, when a friend calls? Mostly you just need to listen, right? So I tried to listen, tried not to offer the “fix,” and used my time to honor my friend and listen to him.
When I finished the call, I was still in front of my blank screen. And then . . . well, that conversation led to the essay that’s included in the anthology. “Meeting Face to Face” is about how we can do all the things about being “good” and “fair” and “just” with our Black friends, our Black co-workers, our Black congregants, our Black leaders—and never really listen to them or even see them. I used the essay to provide some examples of how white people can hear without understanding, see without comprehension, and miss the very thing they want the most: intimacy and acceptance. (We all want this, not just white people, but white people are peculiarly dysfunctional in acquiring it.)
I don’t pretend my contribution the best thing since sliced bread. I’m just a writer who sometimes has something to say, with very few people who listen. But the essay was accepted, and it’s now included in the anthology.
I hope you’ll pick up a copy. Sure, I would be tickled if you read my essay and found something useful. Writers like to know that they made an impact upon their readers. Would love to hear what you think about what I wrote, good, bad, or indifferent.
But more importantly, I’d like you to read the contributions from eighteen people telling their stories, whether they are Black or People of Color, or white. We all came together to stitch together a quilt of understanding. There are contributions from a Master Athlete, from degreed experts in their fields, from people who work on the streets to protest and build community, from those who are retired and those who are currently employed, from three continents and many nations. We came together to talk about what we are doing to promote love, equity, justice, diversity, inclusion.
I think it’s a great read. The chapters are short and would work well as a brief timeout during your day with a favorite beverage. Because we want our readers to consider what’s said, the book provides wider margins and space for your thoughts. It’s a “Fieldnotes” book, after all, with observations from those who are exploring the world around us, and we’ve brought back our stories for you. Perhaps after reading these stories, you’ll be impelled to create your own.
Remember, try the doors, every time. Who knows where you’ll end up when you take the chance?
Fieldnotes on Allyship: Achieving Equality Together
Clay Rivers, Editorial Director
Sherry Kappel, Special Projects Editor
Stephen Matlock, Editor
With an introduction by Tim Wise.
Contributing authors include Glenn Rocess, Joel Daniels, Consuelo G. Flores, Michael Greiner, Ph.D., J.D. Christienne L. Hinz, Sherry Kappel, Marley K, Stephen Matlock, Kim McCaul, John Metta, Lecia Michelle, Aisha Paz, Clay Rivers, William Spivey, Charles White, Jesse Wilson, and Sylvia Wohlfarth.
Available at most major bookstores (print) and online sites (epub/mobi)