D: for Democracy, Diversity, and He Who Will Not Be Named

I've had this blog post written in my head several times since July 3.  Each time I thought I would sit down and write it, I didn't for whatever reason.  And then the middle and end of last week happened, and I thought, "Well, maybe it's not done yet; that's why I didn't write it."

And then I thought, "It's all been said.  Why would I say it?"

And then I thought, "It's the one thing I have.  It's the voice I have.  Start writing."

So here I am.

I know everyone is tired of this conversation.  Either you are tired because you've been living it your whole life and now you're seeing it bigger and louder in front of you, and you're worried people will fall asleep again tomorrow.  Or maybe you're tired because you see it and you haven't said anything and now you are saying things, and you're losing family members and friends and being verbally attacked by them for saying something.  Or maybe you're tired because you think the conversation itself is the problem or at least is making it bigger, and you just want an ideal world where all people matter.

(Note: I ignored the "tired of having to consider that people other than your own race matter in the world or should have anything" because I'm really and sincerely hoping I don't have any relationships with people who would dare say that out loud or even think it in their soul.  Most of my friends and acquaintances have seen my evil eyes and don't want to again.)

Let's start with the tired.  Let's agree that we all feel that way.  And then let's end with the "want an ideal world where all people matter" and where we all have the same opportunities.  Because we also agree on that.

We all do.

And that world is coming.  (It's called A New Heaven and a New Earth.  It's gonna be so great, you guys.)

But for now, we live in between the nobody matters and the everybody matters, and that makes us all tired.

So what do we do?  We discuss.  We debate.  We dialogue with kind words and express our opinions.  We definitely do not dismiss.  We don't dismiss people or their experiences, just because we didn't experience them ourselves or because we don't want them to be true or because we don't believe them to be true.  We don't dismiss people or their experiences.

I'm white.  I'm middle class.  I am told that when I was young my family didn't have a lot.  We lived in government housing, so I'm pretty certain that is true.  I don't remember ever not eating enough, though, or even missing a snack in the day let alone not eating three meals.  But my mom tells me of a time when she and my dad had a can of corn to split between them for dinner.

Still, I'm white.

And that is the phrase, the descriptor, that meant the world.  We may not have had much (and then later we had plenty and then now we have more than enough), but no one assumed it was because we were lazy.  Or because we were criminals.  Or that we should have stayed wherever it is we came from.

The simple fact is that there are rich people and there are poor people.  Most of the rich people are white.  Most of the poor people are black.  There are people who go to colleges and to good high schools and there are people who are stuck in failing schools.  Most of the colleges and the good high schools are filled with white students.  Most of the failing schools are filled with black students.  There are people who get pulled over for breaking laws or for speeding and there are people who get pulled over because they are on certain roads or in certain neighborhoods.  You guessed it, the first are mostly white.  The second are mostly black.

When a crime has been committed, and you hear about it on the news, what color is the "bad guy"?  Think about it.  Before you see a picture or before you hear a description, what does the guy look like in your head?  Do you have to change that image when you hear it was a white guy?  (Insert uncomfortable chuckle and an "Oh God" here.  I know, because I have.  And I do.  And I hate that about myself.)

When you hear about someone doing something amazing or a researcher discovering a cure for something, what color is the "good guy"?  The genius?

When you picture Jesus.  Does he have flowing dark blond/light brown hair and blue eyes?  Because, you know, Middle Eastern.

We are a whitewashed society.  We are not a color blind society.  We are a whitewashed society where the good guys are white and the bad guys are black or brown.  There are very few facts to back up that notion, but still we roll with it.

Now, I know what you're thinking (because I've thought it):

What about black on black crime?

If only the black people would try harder, then maybe they'd be successful.

Why can't they just act more like me?  Then cops would know they respect them and would respect them back.

I remember working at an inner-city school years ago.  Two students walked in the door one morning where the superintendent was high fiving and shaking hands with everyone.  One boy called another boy (affectionately, I think) a dog.  The superintendent pulled the boy aside and asked, "How is he supposed to feel good about himself if you are referring to him as a dog?"

That stuck with me.  Because it's true.  If I look in the mirror and call myself fat, how do you think I'm going to eat that day?  If I hear myself in the shower and say I can't sing, why would I be willing to join a choir?  If I tell myself time and time again that I'm a crappy writer who has nothing to say, how many blog posts do you think I'll write? (Answer: see the last few years of this blog.)

My achievements or lack thereof are directly related to what I tell myself is true about myself--and what others believe is true about me.

If the entire population of people who look like you can look back at government documents of this country and see, see with your actual eyes, words written down and laws written down stating you are worth less than one white person, how do you think you'll feel about yourself?

Not good.  I guarantee it.

Stack on top of that fewer educational opportunities for generations and less income and "affordable" housing that looks like the Projects where people are stacked on top of each other and more pushing down and fewer expectations for greatness . . . and what you have is a people who feel like they are worth less than if they'd simply been born white.

That makes people angry.  And that makes people act out.  And heck yeah (you white gun owners who own your assault rifles to protect yourselves from the bears or the government) you're going to carry a weapon wherever you go.  Because you have to protect yourself--from other people who are angry and frustrated and believe that's all they're worth . . . and white people who believe all those same things.

Okay, but . . .

What about so-and-so black guy who is a leading heart surgeon?

What about that white guy I saw who eats only one meal a day and it's one someone else gave him?

Yep.  There are always exceptions.  On both ends.  And if you want to hold on to those exceptions and expect everyone to rise above their life circumstances to be amazing, if that's what you want to point to all the time, then be the Saturday-morning jogger who wins Olympic gold or the shower-singer turned Tony-award-winning actress.  We don't all achieve those levels of greatness.  Even if we try really, really hard, we just don't.

Most of the time we need help.

Most of the time we need extra attention.

Most of the time we're winning if we just keep running on Saturday mornings or singing and dancing in the shower.

Most of the time we're winning if we just survive.


Fine.  But Beka, all lives matter.  Jesus died for everyone.

Yes.  He did.  Remember that New Heaven and New Earth where it's all gonna be so great you can hardly stand waiting to get there?  That's when it's all made right again.

But while we live here, in the in between, Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me."

So was He saying no adults should come?

No.  He was saying, "To you, in this world, children don't matter as much.  You are pushing them aside and shushing them.  Well, I'm telling you they matter to me."

So, Jesus.  Are you saying the Pharisees and the Tax Collectors and even your disciples don't matter?

"No.  They do.  That's why I came.  To give them worth and make them matter.  But right now you are treating them as if they don't."

All lives matter.  Blue lives matter.  "Red, green, purple, and blue" lives matter.  (Yes, I actually saw that somewhere on Facebook this past week.  I don't know any purple people except those who are choking, and yes even they matter.  But they need different attention.)

All lives do matter, but our society has made it clear that they aren't all treated as if they matter.  To say one life matters to me isn't to say no other lives matter.  It just says, "I see you.  And I want to make it better."


Racism is alive and thriving in this country.  And it isn't just thriving in the people who put on pointy white hats and carry burning stakes looking for people to kill.  It isn't just thriving in Hate.  Sometimes it's thriving in what more closely resembles love.  Sometimes it's thriving in higher-than-possible expectations or guilt-ridden handouts or refusing to acknowledge there could be a problem or in keeping our mouth shut when something happens or in making someone else's experience about you.  Sometimes it is thriving in our churches.

"Oh, but our church welcomes all people."

Does it?  Does it welcome them even if they dress wrong or worship wrong or have a different scope of time than you?  Does it seek them out and embrace them?  Or does it just accept them?

Because just accepting them if they happen by makes it clear they don't matter all that much to you.

And your "helping."  Does it come with conditions or out of pity, or does it come from a desire to come alongside and really help?  Does it come with advice or a "well if you would just," or does it come with listening and empathy and a "how can I make this more equitable for you"?

Does it come with you being vocal and saying, "This matters to me.  You matter to me.  You matter so much that I will take my eyes off myself and the hard life I have lived and the challenges I have overcome to just sit and listen to you.  And then when I have listened to you, and I have believed what you are telling me, I will speak.  I will stand in front of you to protect you from the people who don't get it.  I will stand next to you and march with you.  I will say all I can until I can't say anymore so that you are not the only one fighting this battle."

Or does it come with you saying, "All lives matter.  And by pointing out color or by continuing to focus on diversity you are continuing to perpetuate the problem."

Because there is a difference there.

My family and I went to western South Dakota this summer.  I haven't been there for probably 29 years, and so much has changed.  Oh, the Badlands are still there, but the walkouts and the trails have changed.  Wall Drug has grown and collected more crap.  Even Mount Rushmore has a new movie and an entirely different viewing platform--and the parking!  So different.

You know what hasn't changed?  In nearly three decades, the only thing that is the exact same is the trailer park east of Rapid City.  I think even some of the trailers there are the same.  You know who lives there? Native Americans.  In the United States, the top three poorest counties are in South Dakota.  And they are comprised almost entirely of reservation land.

We did that.  That's what the white people settling here in this country did.  Because white lives matter more.

They always have.  And they will, until we, the white lives, speak up.  Until we recognize that in order for all lives to matter, black lives and Native lives and Muslim lives need to be our priority.


We live in one of the best countries in the world.  I love our freedoms and our democracy and our entertainment (though I do NOT get this Pokemon GO thing).  I love this country.  But for more than 120,000,000 (that's 120 million) people, this country has never been Great.  Just because it has for you doesn't mean it has for everyone.  And it doesn't mean we don't have a problem.

We can't continue to go around saying "Make America GREAT Again" when to more than 100 million people that means "Make America WHITE Again" and when it has never actually been truly great.

We can't continue to go around saying "But I like how he speaks his mind and is feared by the establishment" when what he is saying is we should round up all the people who look Muslim and interrogate them to make sure we're safe.

We can't continue to go around saying "Let's just stop seeing and labeling color" when millions and millions of people know every day their color is what limits them or makes people think they're criminals.

We can't continue to say "But law enforcement is a hard profession and it's really dangerous and they just want to get home to their families at the end of the day and not all cops are racist or power hungry" when black people are pulled over at higher rates than white people and treated more aggressively--whether they have committed a crime or not.

I love this country.

I love law enforcement.

I love my family.

I love my church.

Let me never tire of trying to make any of those things their best selves.

On 4th of July weekend I sang on the worship team at church.  The pianist and her violin-playing grandson played a beautiful version of "America the Beautiful" during the prelude.  Bill, who was singing too, and I sang the first two verses with them.  The first one is all purple mountains majesty and amber waves of grain lovely.  The second one stopped me in my tracks:

O beautiful for Pilgrim feet,
Whose stern, impassioned stress
A thoroughfare for freedom beat
Across the wilderness!
America! America!
God mend thine every flaw.
Confirm thy soul in self-control,
Thy liberty in law.

Can you imagine?  What if the thoroughfare built across the wilderness of this country and of this conversation was one beat for freedom--by our impassioned stress and efforts.  Oh, God.  That is the America I want.  That is the America that is great.  That is the America people can be proud to call home.  That is the America where all lives matter.

But to get there . . . God, mend our every flaw.

I know it's hard.  Healing and wholeness and justice is never painless.  But there are a group of people who have been shouldering all that pain on their own, and it's time we bear it with them.