From My Seat

Last night was a tragedy. I’m sure that the presidential debate sparked many feelings across the board for every person in this country. Even people watching internationally had to feel some kind of guttural response to what they were seeing. The behavior from both sides was, at the most, un-presidential. I get a little nauseous thinking of how many people actually thought it went well or there was a “winner” at all. 

 But, as I sat there watching and considering turning the TV off, the moderator asked a question point blank of the president of this country. He point-blank asked him to denounce white supremacy. Each second after that question that the president of the United States of America did not give a clear answer was like an eon for me. I waited and waited and then both his opponent and the moderator re-asked the question to put it plainly. His response sounded more like the commands of a general to stand back and stand by for some future interaction than a man who was condemning white supremacy. That's how those fellas took it, too. 

 I don’t remember how old I was the first time I woke up from a nightmare that I was being chased by the KKK. I was very young, maybe in fourth grade? But it’s a dream that I had over and over and over again as a child and teenager. Whether I acknowledged it or not, I was a young girl with darker skin growing up in the American South whose history of only a few decades before was constantly featured on television, history books, and in conversations. There was never a question that my white family loved me completely but, what about others? Though the KKK has been deemed a terrorist organization, there a more than a few new groups with the same motives and ideology.

 Since finding my identity completely in Christ and not in any of my appearance, that dream had faded away until the last 4 years. I’ve intermittently had nightmares where I wake up wondering how to get everybody out of my house while it’s being set on fire by white supremacists. I recently watched the documentary “Alt-Right” on Netflix and shivered at the realities that the convention they held was located only 10 miles from our home of four years but I wasn’t surprised. 

 Here’s why: 

 - On the playground of my daycare growing up, a blond haired, blue eyed girl told my sister she couldn’t play with the group because her skin was too dark. Somehow, my skin was light enough to be allowed but hers was not. The only other mixed girl (who looked completely Caucasian), myself and a few others made a new group while the blonde girl and most of our friends held to the “rules”. 

 - The first boy that I ever had a crush on in the sixth grade told his best friend that he couldn’t date me because I wasn’t white and the races couldn’t mix. 

 - My sophomore English teacher, in front of the entire class, told them that since my parents were married in Alabama and the laws on interracial marriage there had never actually been done away with, that made me an illegitimate child. -In nearly every church we have ministered, at least one white student has been told by their parents/family that they can’t date a black student. 

 - A patient looked me square in the face and told me I would have to make them a new referral because the surgeon they saw was “colored” and, though he seems like a really smart guy, they couldn’t trust him to do surgery on them. 

 - I heard a man say, not even six years ago, that if a white person marries a black person they will be judged by every white person that they ever encounter whether they hear it out loud or not. He said every white person will see what they did. 

 I could go on and get more personal (painfully personal) but I do try not to let the Internet become my diary. I’ve been really quiet compared to most of my friends of color in this season. One reason is because words matter so much! I don’t want to say the wrong ones. I want to honor God with the words I use. The other reason is because I don’t find that social media actually changes anyone’s mind in the right ways often times. Today’s posts and comment threads prove just how deeply we all believe what we believe and not even the comments (or lack there of) made last night can change that. 

 But, last night, the president explained that we don’t need training on racial sensitivity and refused to denounce white supremacy. That is deeply troubling. 

 My hope is not in this world. My hope is sure and steady in heaven. I am a citizen of the kingdom of God, not only a nation on earth. I walk in circles of believers that care about my citizenship in heaven, not my skin color. But that hasn’t always been my experience. 

 I have always been proud to be an American. I am still proud to be an American. My ancestors in the 1600's came to this land for religious freedom, a chance to own land, see that land prosper, and provide for their children and generations to come. They did that imperfectly but I hope they did it with the best of motives. I’ve read their stories. I say in all of my remembrance of my heritage that I pray their boldness, their strength of character, their passion and perseverance persist through me and my children. I pray that their shortcomings be broken and left in the past and that we can continue their legacies with only their strengths and none of their weaknesses. I see so many of their strengths in my own family today.  I pray the same as I look at the other side of my family for I am simultaneously an American descended from the early founding settlers while also a first generation immigrant. That is a picture of the America I know. Now, as was amplified on the stage last night, that’s not the America everybody knows or wants. There are clearly some walking the aisles of the same grocery stores as me that don’t believe America should be that way. They believe America should be white. They believe that any of the goodness, the intelligence, or the successes in my genes must have come from my white ancestors. Just writing that sentence made me baulk at the idiocity because I come from some pretty strong, intelligent, successful Ethiopians. 

 I can’t be silent about this anymore. 

From my seat on the couch where I watched the debate, I must speak. This may be the only post I ever write about my race or politics. I’ve commented and “liked“ others‘ powerful posts about racial equality in America. Now, it is time for me to say my piece. 

I cannot support someone who supports white supremacy. There are hundreds of issues on the line in this election. The issue that came to the surface for me this morning is the safety and equality of every person of color, and I mean every color. 

One cannot be pro life while being a white supremacist. One cannot tell the true history of America while also throwing racial sensitivity out the window. Racism persists today. Just because you do not see it does not mean that it isn’t there. I have thrown a classy smile and a southern charm on to save face more times than I am proud to admit. And honestly, I have white privilege. When I’m in a racially tense conversation with a white person, I can subtly bring up reminders that I am sort-of white and find a common ground there. Not everybody has that and I’m not proud that I’ve ever used that to soften an insult or gain common ground. It’s just shameful. 

 In nursing school and in the mission field, cultural sensitivity trainings are pivotal. If I walk into a hospital room to a patient of a culture different than mine, I need to be aware of that and I need to honor them, their experiences, and their identity in order to treat them safely as well as to earn their trust. If that’s required of me as a nurse, it should certainly be required of the President of the United States of America. 

 Where can I land my ramblings? How do I tell my friends who post online about how they have never seen racism in their towns, how they don’t think this is really as common as it has been made out to be, that I’ve been in the same room, the same church, the same grocery store with a different experience?

  I’ve been quiet. I’m not the only one being quiet. It’s called self-preservation. 

But I’m stopping it now because, apparently, the white supremacists are on standby.