Injustice Make Me Sleepy

I am a white middle class American and honestly, I don’t feel embarrassed by that. But it makes me keenly aware of my position in the world. I can honestly say, I have NEVER been the victim of systemic injustice simply because I run this joint!  My people make the rules. We’re used to everyone playing on our terms and deferring to us. When I was in Kenya, the police would smile ingratiatingly at us as we walked through downtown but would stop and interrogate other Kenyans. Reverse racism. All over the world, I can get away with a lot just because of my skin and my passport.

If you’re like me, you’ve become so used to being treated fairly and given the benefit of the doubt, that somewhere in your heart you begin to doubt whether systemic injustice really exists among us at all. Like my white college buddies, you look at minority groups (especially the ones who “fight for their rights”) with a level of disdain. “They’re always complaining about their misfortune!” “They’re loud and obnoxious.” “If they would just work hard, get an education, and pull themselves out of their situation they would earn respect in our society.” A few of them who DO play by our rules (go to college, adopt a perfect Midwestern accent, sing our songs, and show up on time to everything) gain our notoriety and make us feel good about our “tolerance” for other cultures. I always used to feel justified in saying, “It’s not their skin, but their culture that bothers me.” I’m questioning that statement now.

It was recently suggested that I spend some time as a learner among Africans. I hope to make an impact on that continent through my work but I feel I need to first intuit the heartbeat of African societies. So I took a friend to lunch. He is an African church planter here in the Twin Cities. For 2 hours, I listened, probed, and sought to understand his experience as an African living in America.

What I heard troubled me. After teaching at a bible school, ministering in 20 countries, and learning  fluent German, he came to America to do his PhD in Theology. During his studies he planted a church through a primarily white denomination. The denomination hoped he would plant an “immigrant” church under their label. But when it turned into a primarily white church pastored by an African, the denomination began to distance itself. They told other regional pastors that they no longer associated with him that they shouldn't trust him. They stopped returning his calls and emails. As a final blow, his sending church has refused to sponsor him to renew his visa.

My friend believes he is not trusted because he is African. Believe me, I struggled emotionally to admit that could be possible among enlightened Americans. Surely, this was a communication breakdown. He was misinterpreting, misunderstanding the motives of others. Or perhaps my friend had done something wrong that he wasn’t sharing with me. I felt a strong compulsion to excuse the behavior of my white counterparts and eventually I had to ask why I was doing that, why I struggled to give my friend the benefit of the doubt.

But slowly, slowly, I began to unearth some loop tapes lodged within my psyche: Africans are lazy, Africans are needy, they are manipulative, they are deceptive, they cannot be trusted like "our people". Then it hit me…. I, an educated, sensitive, relational, enlightened human being simply do not trust Africans. But here was a young, educated, well-spoken, clear-headed African man telling me story after story proving that he was the victim of systemic injustice.

All I could do was yawn. The more I believed his story, the sleepier I got. I couldn’t help it. The idea that my culture still treats other cultures unjustly… well it’s overwhelming. So I shut down, became lethargic. I just can't believe this kind of thing could happen. Everything in me rejects the notion, because to accept it would require action on my part. I would have to learn to trust people of other cultural expressions and accept those cultures as much as I accept my own. I would have to let other cultures to play by their own rules in my church, in my neighborhood, even in my home. I may have to compromise some of MY ideals (like efficiency) for other peoples’ ideals (like community) and learn to appreciate those values for what they give me as a person and how they point me to God. And I would have to stand in solidarity with marginalized people seeking better treatment.

It’s not enough to be urbane and enlightened. My friend’s denomination had those qualities in spades. If I want to address racial injustice in my society, I have to get messy. I have to learn to trust people outside my cultural circles and listen to what they say…. Even if what they say makes me feel really incredibly sleepy.