A Confession of Aggression

Micro-Aggression- Passive-Aggression- these things are aggressive, and they are not okay. I have been reflecting a lot about what our actions or lack thereof communicate, about our motivations, and how we exploit people. What do we say to people through our words? And through our silence… how do profit from the pain of others? Why do we tell our stories? We need to check ourselves. I need to check myself.

Murdering people with verbiage and condescension and the status quo is the weapon of choice for so many well-meaning white people and Asian-Americans Christians. I grew up in a family that constantly told me not to be racist, to love black people, but that was drenched in racial slurs and nothing less than cold, hard, racism. Immediate and extended family welcomed people of color and different ethnicity to our home, to be like us, to join us, to share our experience. Sometimes we asked about their experiences and listened intently, like they were puppets on a stage, there to entertain. “I just love your hair. Do you mind if I touch it? It’s just so different than mine,” we would ask.

Perhaps, you argue, there must be space for this… it is not wrong! We want to learn, in relationship, and to ask to touch each other’s hair as a means of experience is okay. Yes… perhaps indeed, for I do recall black children brushing my hair when I volunteered at the Augusta Urban Ministries summer program as a way to spend time with a boy I liked and fill up my days during the summer. I was a good young white woman, helping those who had less than me, but I was still racist. We are racist under the surface, in ways we are not willing to admit to ourselves, through micro-aggression, and passive-aggression.

What is micro-aggression? My sorority sister, Kate Miller, shared this image with me the other day, and it goes a long way in educating us about what we do not recognize as racist but is actually QUITE racist.

Indeed, even our sorority, as I recall, had very few people of minorities. We prided ourselves in saying we were not racist. Anyone could join potentially, and there were people of color and ethnicities other than anglo-saxon European. But were we actually diverse? Did we allow space for our friends of color to display their heritage and bring themselves to forefront? Or did we simply let them join us in our white culture? That is the question.

We all need to check ourselves, model minorities included because if we find ourselves thanking a black woman for explaining her thoughts and thus saying her words are now valid, we are displaying racism. A black woman’s words need no validation. They should stand on their own. They STAND on their own.  And if we consider ourselves open to diversity because we have black people that visit our church or a black person that regularly attends, but have a history of being silent about racial injustice, or congratulate ourselves when we go to Harlem because it’s dangerous, or assume black men walking down the street are dangerous unless they are dressed in nice clothing, then we are racists. Because, may I ask, do we assume white and Asian men walking down the street are dangerous unless they are wearing nice clothing? Do we congratulate ourselves when we go to the Upper Westside where we could just as easily be raped by a white frat boy? And we should not argue "well we’ve had experience with black men bothering us." Because I hear myself and others trying to rationalize, but actually, we’ve had experience with MEN bothering us. The fact that said men were black had nothing to do with it. I say these things in love and in outrage because I am NO better and have been no better. NO BETTER AT ALL. Did you know I used to sport the confederate flag proudly? As a part of my heritage, I said! Our family even had a car with a horn that played “dixie,” and a welcome mat that said “Yankee, Go Home.” We said it was cultural- a joke, all in good fun. We were racist. I was racist. It was wrong.

And if we say that others should not be offended by our symbols that bring to mind hatred because these others need to get to know us and REALIZE we are not racist but rather just heralding heritage and holding opinions based on experience, we are propping up our points of view as meritorious and relevant in opposition to their own points and their own pains. Why not give up the symbol of hate? Do we REALLY need it?

Jarrod Davis, in his piece Why I Put Away My Confederate Flags, shares his story, “In the Fall of 2002, when I was nineteen years old, I had a single, short conversation that made me reevaluate [my use of the confederate flag symbol].

I was working year round at a Christian camp. One of the volunteers there was a man named Hank, whom I had known for a few years. One Saturday, after our day of basketball ministry had ended, Hank sat beside me on the bleachers.

 

“Hey, Jarrod,” he said, “I wanted to talk to you about something. I’ve noticed the Confederate flag on your truck.”

 

I mentally rolled my eyes before letting forth with my prepared response: “It’s heritage, not hatred. I’m from the South and I’m proud of that. I’m not racist.”

 

“I understand that,” Hank said. “I know you, and I don’t think you’re racist. And I know that you love Jesus, and that you want to tell other people about Jesus. I know that you love people. But when people see that flag, they don’t think of that, they think of hatred. They assume you hate them because they see you with that flag. I would hate for someone to get the wrong idea about you, or about Jesus, because of that flag… Racism is both prevalent and subtle. It is deeply ingrained in our society and culture, so much so that we think of it as normal. When light is shined on our systemized racism, we protect it as the status quo.

 

That’s why I didn’t want to take down my Confederate flags. I saw them as one thing, even if the world saw them as something else. It’s not my fault that others use this symbol differently than what I intend.

 

But I can’t be willfully naïve and ignore the message that most of the world receives. No matter what intention I might have in flying that flag, the world will continue to see it as a symbol of hatred and violence. This is not news.

It has been nearly twenty years since that conversation with Hank. In that time, I have had to learn how to listen. I have had to sit through uncomfortable lessons. –(Jarrod Davis, Why I Put Away My Confederate Flags- Medium.com:)

During or church service this morning, the Pastor spoke of how God is currently working, excavating and pulling out sin in our culture. God is exposing. God has to expose rot before we can ever hope to be rebuilt. Our foundations have to be purified. Repentance has to come, and it should start with the house of God. Quoting Darrel Harrison’s podcast, Just Thinking, the writers of NPR note: “Racism is often misunderstood. "Biblically, ethnic prejudice is not an 'ism,' " [Harrison] argued in response to George Floyd's killing. "It is hate —period. ... You end hatred by repenting and believing the gospel." –(NPR, Evangelicals Christians Grapple Racism as a Sin)

Continuing, NPR news quotes Rob Daniels, a Southern Baptist pastor in Dallas Texas, as he addresses his predominately white congregation, questioning "Do I find myself seeing black people, Latino people, any person other than white, as beneath me? Then, stay there and deal with that," he says. "And whatever comes out of that, that's work that you need to do before the Lord, that you need to repent of."

In other words, are you glad you are not black, and not because you understand how hard it would be to have to BE black and overcome social and systemic constructs, but are you glad you are not black simply because being black would mean, you are black.

I wanted to end with the story from a black friend of mine. He is an actor, and he shared a testament of how micro-aggressive things have been said and done to him over countless years that he has been in the industry. I felt his words would make this piece more compelling. But that’s just it… what is my motive? Do I want to herald his cause and his case for his own sake? I mean, I do. I want to shed light. I long to educate and to bind the broken-hearted, but there is also a portion of my heart that takes delight in being seen myself. I must be careful lest I exploit a cause in order to bring myself pleasure. I need to check myself. So I won’t post his story…even though it would educate, and it would teach, because he didn’t ask me to post it, and it is his story. It is not mine. I cannot take it from him just because I want it. And if your appetite is whet and you wonder more about micro-aggression and passive-aggression, I encourage you, reach out, to your black neighbor. Ask them of their experience, and then listen. That’s all. Just listen to them. Hear them. Listen…their words are enough. They just are…