I Used to be Racist
I guess I’m not really sure what I can add to this conversation as a white woman. I don’t want to be accused of not listening, by sharing, but I think there are more that share my story than realized, or maybe than want to vocalize. I’ve written about this before. A few years ago it felt gutsy, even though racial injustice isn’t a new reality. Now it just feels necessary. But either way, I’m about shame blossoming into freedom, even if it’s same song second verse, so here goes-
I used to be racist, the kind of racism that would rather be named Apathy. The kind that trickles down through white culture & is reinforced through inadvertent actions – not driving down certain streets, through slight comments, & by having the privilege to avoid the topic of race. The kind that disagrees with the confederate flag on the pickup truck, but lives in a predominantly white area of town. The kind that grows to feel uncomfortable when *those* parts in Disney cartoons flash on the TV, but doesn’t stop the movie; the kind that still locks their car doors when a certain person walks by in the parking lot. The kind that can go into an inner-city neighborhood or overseas for ministry, but the next week, back at home, avoids people of that same skin color. The kind of racism that festers on not being labeled as outrightly racist, because it’s mainly silent, but still reeking a stench in the soul.
I didn’t want to type all of this out, & I didn’t want to begin addressing this in my flesh a few years ago. But I also don’t want to be silent & white-sugar-coat it: it’s racism. And being silent only adds a layer of sugar – like attempting to cover a cavity. It perpetuates latent injustice & prevents healing. But what I’ve found, when we allow Jesus to illuminate the dark pockets & corners in our souls, we allow room for Him to clean up the mess – for transformation. And when we humbly allow Him to clean us up, instead of sweeping the lurking dust bunnies of racism under the rugs in our soul, holistic freedom is more approachable:
-Freedom to listen. Full stop. The freedom to listen & learn from others’ experiences, without jumping to conclusions or premeditating our next words as they’re finishing theirs.
-Freedom to empathize – to love as Jesus loves. To be present, connected, & hold the hands of the hurting.
-Freedom from our flesh – to experience the freedom that Jesus promised from sin, even racial sin. The same flesh that thrives on ‘fear of other’ can be softened, transformed, & healed.
-Freedom from the chains – The chains ARE already broken, but our flesh loves to pick them back up & attempt re-shackle. But when we live in the reality of a broken-chain-freedom, we can help break the chains that bind this nation – that the grip from the powers & principalities would finally be released.
-Freedom that breeds action – Racism isn’t something that evaporates after 24 hours, after that share in our Instagram stories expires. We have the freedom to do more, not out of condemnation, but because we’re a free people. We can courageously have the gutsy conversation, do the research, sign the petition, join the non-profit, turn off the Disney movie.
-Freedom from generational sin – so that in freedom I can tell my children that while I’m anti-racist, their mom isn’t perfect, so let’s learn together, as we watch Him transform, restore, & redeem.
Last night as I held Judah the Baptist as he fell asleep – my wild, full-on mullet-ed son – I asked him as I prayed, “Will you someday protect your friends?” He immediately responded as he closed his eyes, “Mhmmm.” And I believe he will.
I believe he’ll steward his white, male privilege for the freedom of others. But I’m not exactly sure how. And to be honest, I’m not sure how Jesus will redeem all of this, either, but I’m praying I see some of it in my lifetime. So I’m hoping that by my sharing – as a white woman, granted – by my following that undeniable stirring & throwing my story out into the internet abyss, some amount of racism-shame turns into freedom – not just for the white person’s conscience, but for & in honor of the Imago Dei. Because black lives are worthy. Black lives matter. 🌼