It has been two weeks since the news broke of George Floyd’s
tragic, painful, extremely sad death. I’ve wanted to write, to not be a silent
bystander, but didn’t know the right words. My words will not be perfect, but
they are mine. Everyone has their own words, backgrounds, life experiences that
breathe into their viewpoints, beliefs, and passions. These are mine.
I grew up as a stereotypical white American does- like the
kids in the movies. I lived in a suburb. I went to good public schools. I was
in after school (and before school) extracurricular activities. I went to
church. I played with my friends in the neighborhood. And I can honestly say
that the first time I recollect REALLY noticing a race difference in my friends
wasn’t until college. Crazy, right? Not for lack of diverse friends. I grew up
in a suburb of Dallas, where I went to school with white people, Hispanics,
black people, Indians, Asians, etc, etc, etc. Looking back now, my school was
diverse. But I never thought of those peers as their race. I thought of them by
who they were, what they excelled at. I never thought of them as “my black
friend” or “my Indian friend.”
Then, I went off to college. I chose to go to a private university
that happened to be very expensive. It was also extremely undiversified. It was
very, very white. Yes, there were non-white students, but as I’m thinking back,
I could probably count on one hand the number of minorities that were in my
program of 80ish students. That’s not a high percentage. My university is known
for educating students well and sending out people who achieve great success.
To state where I earned my degree from is an honor, and people who know the
school usually think highly of it and its alumni. My senior year of college, as
I was completing my undergraduate degree in Elementary Education with an
emphasis in English as a Second Language, I was also working a few hours a day
as a nanny to two children who lived in a very posh neighborhood and went to a
very posh public school. Usually posh and public school don’t go together, but
this school was crazy. The moms wore couture track suits and full hair and
makeup to pick their children up. The moms volunteered to do anything the
teacher needed. The parents gave teachers lavish gifts for every major holiday.
The funding for school events was astronomical. Houses zoned to go to this
school sold in hours, not days or months, because of the school itself. And,
everyone was white. There was no diversity, just fairly fake, cookie cutter
lives. Well, as I was putting my resume out to look for a job for the following
school year, it was recommended by some of this school’s faculty and by the mom
of the children I nannied for that I should apply to work there. And it was the
easiest ‘no’ I was ever offered.
At the time, I was finishing up my student teaching at a
school nearby that was just about the opposite of the ‘posh school.’ The school
I was student teaching at was full of students from low socioeconomic
backgrounds. There were students who spoke multiple languages. There were even
refugee students. It was a very diverse school. In fact, my school was 50%
black, 40% Hispanic, and 10% “other,” which included white, Asian, etc. White
was the minority at my school. And I LOVED that school. I loved my students, I
loved their families, I loved that I got to share my life with them for the 5
years I taught before moving overseas. Some of their lives were messy, but so
is mine, and it was one of the most rewarding and meaningful things I have ever
had the privilege of doing just to impact the people in that community in the
little ways that I did. I loved my students (and their families), black,
Hispanic, and “other.”
Then, after several years of teaching, my husband and I took
our 10 month old baby and moved to the opposite side of the world- to India.
And now, this white suburban girl (woman) is a minority. I have been a minority
now for 7+ years. I know what it feels like to be the one that people look at
when you walk in a room. I know what it feels like to walk down the street and
have people stare at you from one end all the way to the other. I know what
it’s like to know that people are talking about you but don’t want you to know
(which, by the way, gets really interesting when they don’t know that you speak
and understand the language they are “discretely” speaking in to talk about
you), and I know what it’s like for people to make assumptions about you as
soon as you walk in the door, without knowing a single thing about you except
the color of your skin. I get that.
But I would be a fool to say that I get what it is like to
live as a black man or woman in America right now, or any point in our nation’s
history leading up to right now. There is no way for me to comprehend all that
entails. The fear, the pain, the strife, and the weariness that come with black
skin in America for no good reason. I will never get that. It isn’t fair. It is
tragic. It is painful. It is extremely sad. Sad that men and women, and even
boys and girls, treat others with such selfishness and anger and contempt and
hatred because they have made assumptions about them based on their skin color.
What a shame. Shame on you, America. Shame on us, for not loving our brother
and our sister well. Shame on us for being bystanders instead of upstanders.
Shame on us for not granting every person the love that God so richly,
generously, and freely pours out on us by the blood of Jesus. God created every
life for a purpose- a good purpose. He created blacks to glorify Him. He created immigrants to glorify Him. He created police officers to glorify Him. He created babies in their mothers' wombs to glorify Him. (Yeah, I went there.) He created every single life to glorify Him. We should encourage one another to walk in
His ways and we should support one another however we can. Right now, I want
those who feel unsupported to know that I’m here. This is me saying that I care about you, no matter who you are and no matter what the color of your skin is. You are loved. You are
important. Your life does matter. So much.
It isn’t too late. You don’t have to choose a side. There
don’t have to be sides.
1 Corinthians 1:10 I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, in the
name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you agree with one another in what
you say and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be perfectly
united in mind and thought.
2
Corinthians 13:11 Finally, brothers and sisters, rejoice! Strive for full
restoration, encourage one another, be of one mind, live in peace. And the God
of love and peace will be with you.
Galatians
3:28 There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there
male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.
