Amy*

February 1, the first day of Black History Month (BHM). I’m always black, but this month I’m BLACK. In honor of BHM, I had the privilege of eating at a table with 4 other white people. It wasn’t long ago where that would’ve been unheard of, yet here I am rubbing shoulders over fried chicken with white people. Isn’t God good?

There were 6 of us at the table, my good friend sat beside me, the reason, I was at this lunch. The other 4 people were strangers. Amy, the titular character and white woman who was married to a black man, the black husband, and 2 other white people. My good friend is also white. We’re having a level of banter and perfunctory conversation: weather, sports, how do you know each other, the usual. Amy asks, “Cornell, what church do you go to?”

If you don’t know church has been challenging. Not because my faith is wavering but because White Supremacy is deeply embedded in American Christianity. I need church to be safe, so I’ve worked to find a church home that is safe for me and other black people, while still having a measure of racial diversity. Now this woman is a stranger, and most of my audience is white and I’m not searching to find a way to be peaceable. I don’t just want to drop “White Supremacy” on the table. So I’m deliberately ambiguous. Amy..won’t...be...denied! She keep pressing me, until finally I tell her.

“Since white supremacy has infiltrated nearly every structure of society, the church included, I’m just looking for a place that harmonizes with my need to fight it, rather than passively ignore it.” I wish I had been that eloquent and succinct, but that was the gist. I waited, I felt anxiety knocking on my heart, but I was cool.

I’m not going to share the entire conversation in this post but I’m going to highlight 6 key points from that conversation.

Getting me churched

I don’t know Amy at all. I cannot express enough that WE HAVE NEVER MET! She kept coming back to trying to get me involved in church. She asked me did I listen to this pastor, or heard of this church, etc. And I’m going to assume she intended to help. I can’t help but wonder if seeing a dark-skinned black man with dreads who is frustrated about white people, would need an extra dose of Jesus, ie Church. However, I’ve done church. I grew up going every Sunday, even if we were on vacation, much to my chagrin. On Sunday we’d pile in the car and ride around looking for a church. Also, I like church, when it’s not racist. My lack of attendance in a religious assembly has little bearing on the condition of my soul, sure, it can be a factor in my overall spiritual health, but attending the wrong church would advance the debilitation of my soul at a breakneck pace. My patience in searching for the right community, is far more life giving.

Personal Choice

“But Cornell, don’t you think that personal choice has a role to play. For example, my husband, I mean, not to speak for my husband but, he grew up in the inner-city and it was other black people that were the ones breaking into his home and causing harm. I think personal choice has to play some role right?”

Inwardly, I rolled my eyes as hard as I could but because Jesus and Dr. King I responded, “Certainly, personal choice is a factor. God has given us free will, our choices matter. However, what I would like to ask is, why was this group of black people in this position to start with? Why was there a neighborhood of a singular race exclusively poor? How did it get that way?”

 “Cornell that’s a good question. I guess I haven’t thought about it. I don’t know the answer.”

Speaking for black spouse

Note that she said she wouldn’t speak for her husband, and promptly did so right after.

Healing?

“Cornell, do you feel like you’ve been able to heal from all of this racism? I mean, do you feel whole?”

Inwardly, I rolled my eyes as hard as I could but because Jesus and Dr. King I responded, “Well Amy, let me answer it a different way. Certainly, the personal racism that I’ve experienced, the name calling, the actions, the words, God has helped me. He’s healed me, and been my fortress, refuge, and protector. I trust He will continue to do so. When it comes to systems and structures, honestly, I’ll probably be okay. I have a 2 parent home. My wife and I have college degrees, we both have wonderful family support systems. We’ll be okay. But my friends, and extended family, and the families of kids I taught, they might not. That’s unacceptable to me, so I’m going to work to fix it. I think the church should play some role in that because these people, often times, are other Christians, whom we claim to love.”

Sin

“Cornell, but the reality is, it’s never going to be fixed. There’s sin, and as long as sin is on Earth, it will never be fixed. Racism will always be here because of sin.”

This response more than any broke my heart. What I heard, based on her response is, ‘you’re going to have to learn to deal with racism as long as you’re on earth, and working to stop it is futile. So get over it and move on.’ She may as well have called me a nigger, that may have hurt less. Nevertheless, because Jesus and Dr. King I responded, “Amy, what I am speaking of is Christians. Sure the world will be what it is, they will do what they want, but it’s Christians who perpetuate and facilitate racism. It’s this version of Christianity that has partnered with white supremacy that's a problem. It’s Christians who have made and continue to make laws that harm black people that are a problem. I’m talking about Christians.”

“Discussions like this need to happen more, especially among Christians.”

This is how she ended the conversation. I agreed, and literally said good-bye to everyone and made my exit. If I hadn’t been so eager to leave this conversation and return to my ‘Self-care Saturday’ I would have responded by asking, “Why?” This conversation didn’t leave me feeling encouraged or affirmed, furthermore she didn’t even ask me how I felt after sharing so much of my life and my story. Instead it was used for her purposes and set aside in her “Race Conversations” box. Meanwhile, I have to get in my car once again and drive home knowing that I could get pulled over for anything and die for absolutely nothing at all.

*Amy’s name has been changed for anonymity.