dear black person

I'm reading Divided by Faith by Michael O. Emerson and Christian Smith with a group of 6 black friends and 6 white friends. We've met once so far for discussion, and now we are reading chapters 3 and 4 as we prepare to meet again. In chapter 3, there is reference to two 1971 Christianity Today articles where a black person wrote a "Dear White Person" letter, and a white person responded with a "Dear Black Person" letter. I haven't stopped thinking about our group's discussion from this past week. I decided to write my own personal "Dear Black Person" letter this week:

Dear Black Person,

The other night in a Divided by Faith book discussion, I heard one black group member tell our black-white group that white people who have eyes to see the injustices of our racialized society must not be silent but begin to speak up even if that might mean rejection and persecution. I heard him speak of the importance for us whites to join with the black community in the pursuit of justice. I was in a smaller group discussion that same evening when another black group member talked about the distrust that blacks often have of whites. He spoke of how races sometimes come together for a cause, but the black community really doesn’t trust that the white group members will come in very deep, stay very long, or risk very much.

As I consider these comments, I know that the shoe fits me. I've too often been quiet, absent, or lacked much commitment toward change. I’ve now been trying to create an analogy in my mind that would help me put myself in your shoes.

I’m imagining myself being jailed but innocent. As I sit in the jail, the jailer, over time, becomes friendly toward me. She brings me a few cookies from the break room, she begins to listen and show care as I tell my story. We begin to form trust and a friendship. We learn that we are both Christians. About that time, I begin to ask her if she could do anything to help me…speak to someone about my innocence, advocate and take up my case, do something on the outside that would help me gain my freedom. Perhaps at this point, she stops coming by my cell. Or maybe she holds up her hand and says that it might cost her too much in time, reputation, money, or that she could risk losing her job if she stirred anything up. Maybe she tells me she is powerless to help. She continues to be friendly toward me, but I am left in jail, innocent of any crime, and I wonder how much she really does care about me or care about justice in the justice system for which she works. I grow more and more disappointed and frustrated with her kind words but her unwillingness to act for my freedom. I’m now angry at the system but also the individuals who benefit from the system and who do not stand up for the rights of the innocent, especially when they voice that they are Christ-followers.

I don’t know if this even comes close to describing what you might feel about whites as you seek the freedom and justice you deserve as a human being. Perhaps this analogy breaks down in several places... you'll have to let me know. What this little scenario does do for me is help me ask important questions of myself, and pray important prayers.

The questions:

-Do I care? How do I show I care? If I don’t care, what keeps me from caring?

-Do I really believe in my friend’s innocence and rights?

-Do I even remotely understand the depth of racialization around me and embedded in me? Do I realize the prison created by it and the loss that has resulted for everyone, including myself?

-Have I arranged my days in order to know people of color as friends, to observe, listen, and learn from them?

- Am I willing to act, even if it means risk, makes me counter-cultural, or takes me away from the status quo?

-If I do act, what actions are helpful and effective?

The prayers:

-I ask God to give me his eyes and heart for people.

-I confess that years of privilege have caused me to be both ignorant and arrogant, and to act in an apathetic and superior manner. I ask that you forgive me for this.

-I confess that I grew up seeing the bars between us as normal and justified, and I ask your forgiveness for that.

-I ask for Christ’s power in me so that I might live obediently and courageously to move past the point of that which does not cost me anything.

I'm early on the journey of recognizing the systems and structures of racism that are in place. And although, I'm realizing that together we need to work to change these systems, I still do believe that the answers toward a more just and reconciled community have to do with more than sitting together on committees, writing letters to the editor, gathering together for legislative rallies, or conversing over coffee. Those things are good, but I’m learning that reconciling work begins and ends with Jesus and involves building authentic relationships that live and grow together in Christ and with one another. The outflow is this Christian community reaching out together to proclaim and demonstrate Christ and to wholistically restore our neighborhoods and communities. I want to be a part of that with you. The journey of my heart and life have a long way to go, but I trust Christ for the grace needed, and I look to you to continue helping me walk forward together in truth, love, and grace.

A White Person