A year ago, our country changed. Not because a white police officer named Darren Wilson killed an unarmed 17 year old Black youth named Michael Brown, and not because of any spike in police killings of Black and Brown folks, but because young African Americans in Ferguson began protesting daily and haven’t stopped. Because social media brings national attention to deaths that before went mourned but unmarked by most media. Because, from Hartford to Ferguson, African Americans are organizing strategically and boldly to demand recognition of their humanity and dignity amidst a legacy of over 500 years of racism.
I learned little about that history of racism as a white kid growing up in West Hartford. As a high school student at Conard in the early 90s, I didn’t think the Diversity Club was for me. It wasn’t a conscious choice; it simply wasn’t something on my radar. I didn’t need to think about race, and so I didn’t.
But my faith teaches that each and every person has inherent worth and dignity, just as your's may teach that we are all children of God, or your moral compass honors the uniqueness of each human being. Each time another young person of color is harassed or shamed or bullied or killed at the hands of police, that person’s dignity – and ours – is eroded. I have learned that we must say #BlackLivesMatter rather than #AllLivesMatter to name the reality that Black lives are systematically devalued more than White lives in our present society. #BlackLivesMatter is a reclaiming of the worth and dignity that our country strips away from Black women, men, and children, straight and queer and trans, able-bodied and disabled, rich and poor, young and old.
The growing Movement for Black Lives gives me—a white queer parent and minister—hope and inspiration. I see powerful, loving, grounded Black leadership building throughout the country; I see other people of color standing with them; and I see powerful, loving, grounded White folks committing to say “We will show up for racial justice because this pains us too, and because we believe a more loving and peaceful world is possible.”
I want to be part of creating that world for my three-year-old child: one where I don’t have to explain to her why I am crying over the news again and where she doesn’t have to worry about the safety of her Black friends coming home from middle school.
White folks like me must wrestle with the reality that our silence and inaction perpetuates racial inequity within the United States and the world. It is time for us to step out of silence.
White folks like me must wrestle with the reality that our silence and inaction perpetuates racial inequity within the United States and the world. It is time for us to step out of silence.
We white people have a role to play. Not a role of upstaging Black leadership, but a role in building the chorus so it is so loud and strong that it drowns out hate and amplifies the cries of Black leaders for more love, equity and justice. And that is why we are beginning a chapter of Showing Up for Racial Justice in Connecticut (See bit.ly/SURJkickoff) —to provide a space for white folks to educate ourselves and act in solidarity with the Movement for Black Lives and to create a visible presence of white folks who oppose racism in all its forms.
Three weeks ago, on the anniversary of Mike Brown’s death, hundreds of my fellow Unitarian Universalists were in Ferguson honoring Michael Brown’s life with vigils, prayer, and more protests for justice and equity. Here at home, I am putting a Black Lives Matter lawnsign in my yard, making a donation to Moral Monday CT, and preparing myself to show up at the next call for action. What will you do?
- Rev. Cathy Rion Starr is Co-Minister of the Unitarian Society of Hartford, co-founder of SURJ-CT (showingupforracialjustice.org) and one of Robin’s two Mamas. Follow her on Twitter at @rev_cathy
No comments:
Post a Comment