Saturday, March 18, 2017

When Revisiting The Boneyard of Regret...

When Revisiting the Boneyard of Regret…

In Sufjan Stevens 2005 song Chicago, there is a refrain that repeats over and over, “I made a lot of mistakes; I made a lot of mistakes.” For a song that might be cloaked in ambiguity lyrically, it resonates emotionally. Who can’t repeat the refrain and mean it? There are few feelings like the angst of aching regret giving way to the humble relief of confession. The nature of regret is torment, suffering, and persistent psychological self-harm. The nature of confession however, is freeing. Confession frees to leave the boneyard of regret, frees to learn from failure, frees to remember without suffering.

Sooner or later, everyone pays a visit to the boneyard of regret. Strewn with the carcasses of hurt feelings, corpses of stupid mistakes, and skeletal bones of all manner of failures, the boneyard of regret is a place where parts of people go to die. Embarrassment, shame, and humiliation haunt this boneyard where it is always midnight, always foggy, and always looks like there is no way out.

For some people, it is tempting to do anything possible never to visit the boneyard. Avoid, deflect, rush to pleasure - there are many ways to run from regret. For other people, it is tempting to pitch a tent in the boneyard, endlessly trying to solve the unsolvable equation – time travel. They torture themselves with “If only I had…” as though they can unfail. Whether avoiding the boneyard or taking up residence in it, each results in the construction of a realm of suffering that is unnecessary.

Visiting the boneyard of regret is an unfortunate requirement of being human. It cannot be avoided. So, when in the boneyard, here are a few things to consider.

Confess and be free.
There is truth in the boneyard. It is a hard truth, a very hard truth. The bones found rummaging around in the boneyard are the historical facts. All of the facts are true. They are the mistakes, injuries and failures of the past. Just looking at them can be overwhelming. No matter how hard it is to look at them, owning those mistakes, injuries, and failures is required. This boneyard is a place of responsibility and honesty – courageous responsibility; hard honesty. However, the facts must be confessed as just the facts, and nothing more. Just confess and be free. It is the road to self-acceptance.

Learn everything you can.
There is pain in the boneyard. Extreme pain. Sometimes the pain is extraordinary and can be unbearable at times. No one in their right mind wants suffering and pain. However, there is more than suffering in pain. There can be learning along with the pain. All pain and suffering can be instructive. Of all the teachers, guides, and mentors, pain is among the most profound and prolific, if the teaching methods can be tolerated. There is no end to the learning that can be acquired in the boneyard. It can make people better people. Wise people will get all the learning they can.

Give it your grief.
There is grief in the boneyard, but not until it is placed there. Every bone in that bone yard will not be satisfied until it is grieved. Something was lost and that is how the bones got there. There are things there that cannot be undone. There are losses that cannot be regained. There are mistakes that cannot be perfected. One mistake people make when visiting the boneyard is to invest energy into solving something that should be grieved. Go to the boneyard to grieve and then leave a portion of the grief there once you leave.

Visit, but leave.
There is no home in the boneyard. Everything in the boneyard is dead. It is an inhabitable place where no one can survive staying there too long. It’s the surface of the moon. It’s Mars. Yes, visits are necessary and can do some good – but leave. The boneyard exists so there is a place for those painful moments of the past to reside so that people can move forward with their lives. It exists so that people can have it if they need a visit every once in a while as they go about their lives trying to make sense of it without having to carry it all with them all the time.

Leave the bones in the yard.
There are regrets in the boneyard - and that is where they belong. There is no need to carry that past around all the time to every place. The boneyard is a great mercy in that there is a place to put all that pain and then be separate form it for a while. Learning to leave the boneyard is one of the most important spiritual disciplines a person can humbly enter into. Learning to leave the boneyard is the learning how to have a mature relationship with pain and suffering, paying visits, but only for so long. Learning to leave the boneyard is about how to have a mature relationship with grief and loss, when to carry it in and how much to leave there. Rather than avoiding the boneyard or being buried in it, the point is to develop a relationship with it that has good boundaries. And good boundaries means leaving the bones in the boneyard. Exhuming the bones for living room decorations is not hospitable for anyone.

Seriously, Leave The Bones There.
It can be overwhelming looking at all those bones. Owning the bones is hard, but when making claims to the bones, do not go beyond making the claim. It can be tempting to generalize past the facts. It is one thing to confess, “I made this mistake,” but it is quite another thing to assign additional meaning, “I made this mistake and therefore I am a terrible person / disqualified / worthless” and on and on. See the difference. It is responsible to own the bone, but it is irresponsible to assign a psychologically self-harming meaning to the bone. Own the bone and then drop it in the boneyard. People are not worthless. People have infinite worth; it is how people are created.

The boneyard of regret serves a very important purpose in people’s lives. It is a mercy filled with wisdom that demands growth, learning, and maturity in order to access. It is a hard mercy, like a cemetery. It is an unyielding mercy that cannot be avoided. It is an hard, but benevolent mercy that, given the circumstances and when accessed with wisdom, provides the best chance at living for the length of one’s life – thus being the best option overall.

Monday, August 29, 2016

A Prayer For White Awakening (Get Woke)

A Prayer For White Awakening (Get Woke):
God of wisdom. God of mercy. God of reconciliation, unity and peace, we gather together:
to engage discomfort as a reach for healing
to risk releasing anxious self-protection as a reach for connection
to inquire what humility might ask of us as a reach for wisdom

God, convert us!

May we notice times when we feel defensive and convert that defensiveness for self to affirmation for our sisters and brothers who experience injustice
May we notice times when we feel resistance and convert that resistance into generosity to share our lives with our sisters and brothers 
May we notice how comfortable we have become with the privilege we do not even see and convert our energies from protecting our unseen privilege to sharing comforts of new friendships

May we notice that the desire not to be racist does not alone eradicate our participation in racism
May we notice that we participate in social systems that perpetuate generous distributions of privilege to us and meager distributions of privilege to others. 
May we love our sisters and brothers enough not to be paralyzed by guilt when we begin to notice these things

Give us eyes to see right through our own privilege
Give us ears to hear oppression in our own voices
Give us humility not merely to see and to hear, but to acknowledge 
Give us the wisdom to adjust our lives because of what we have seen and have heard
Give us the courage to leverage what privilege we have FOR, NOT OVER, our sisters and brothers. 
Infuse within us a grace so genuine that our very actions become the healing apologies for sins that have reverberated for generations and for centuries

Friday, August 26, 2016

A Delightfully Defiant and Subversive Woman

The Delightfully Defiant and Subversive Woman (A True Story)
I have a friend. Her name is Kathy Osborne. She and I have been friends for a long time - since before I was a teenager. I'm a couple years younger than she is, but that's part of what made being friends when we were so much younger so cool for me. When a high schooler pays any attention to a middle schooler it means a whole lot to the middle schooler. But that was the thing - Kathy either didn't really know the age rules about not being friends with people younger than you are, or perhaps, and this is even more likely, she thought those rules were ridiculous.
Kathy has always thought a lot of things were ridiculous. But not in the snarky or bitter way people think things are ridiculous and then share it on Facebook trying to score some likes. Kathy didn't care about likes. She still doesn't. She found things to be ridiculous when someone got the short end of the stick, when someone got slighted, when injustice spread it venom. What Kathy has always found to be ridiculous are things that are, in fact, loaded with ridiculosity.
She could spot this kind of stuff a mile away. But what makes Kathy unique is the manner in which she responds to it. When most people find something to be ridiculous, they have a blustery outrage about it, they fume about it, they mock it into oblivion, or they rally a pompous superiority about the matter. Kathy doesn't do anything like that. I wonder whether she even knows how.
When Kathy finds something ridiculous, she becomes nice. Ok, she's already super nice. But she gets nicer. How nice? She's so nice it's like the air temperature changes a little when she walks in the room. Whatever the temperature was before she walked into the room, it got closer to that perfect temperature where it feels like there is no temperature at all. She is that kind of nice. Her defiant and subversive response to the ridiculous is niceness - creative niceness. It's innocent niceness. It is a crushing niceness that manages to subvert and defy the power of the ridiculous, no matter how massive it happens to be. It's an undoing kind of niceness that rather innocently drags the ridiculous out into the light, but not to shame it. No. Her niceness redeems it.
Wait. Nice? That's it? Nice isn't special, it's not defiant and it certainly isn't subversive. If that is what you are thinking right now, you don't know Kathy. You and I find would find her to be nice. That's because we are also nice. Not as nice as Kathy, but we see nice for what it is and we like it. But if you were evil and if you were horrible, you would find her niceness to be an assault, a barrage, an over the top aggressiveness that felt cruel. Her smile would be threatening. Her simple way of going about doing the right thing innocently and nicely, even though it may break the social, cultural, or theological rules, would feel to the evil version of yourself to be diabolical. If we were evil, we would be worried about Kathy because we would feel defenseless against her defiant and subversive weapons. We would wonder why no one else could see what she was up to. She just gets away with it - no accountability. Unrelenting, unmitigated, and irrepressible nice.
So when Kathy got cancer, it was ridiculous.
It doesn't make any sense. How does the delightfully defiant and subversive woman get cancer? It's not fair. It's not right. It's certainly not something to be nice about.
And yet...
She did it again. I have been following the reports that her husband Brett (the rarest of men who deserves the privilege to be married to the delightfully defiant and subversive woman) posts on Facebook. Kathy, in her subtle ways, even under the pressure and pain of tests, reports, more tests, chemo, radiation, and surgeries, still she finds a nice way to be defiant and subversive.
For the record, I am pretty sure if I had to run the course Kathy has been forced to run, I'd be cursing things, calling down fire from Heaven, and feeling justified for the wake of ruined things left behind what should be regretful words flung off into servers around the world for everyone to see.
Not Kathy. She's nice.
In one of Brett's updates, he reported that as part of her treatment for cancer, Kathy had a tube or some highly intrusive thing most of us never knew existed, stuck in her. A thing, an object - part of it inside of her and part of it outside of her. It's not right. It's not natural. It's ridiculous. People weren't made to have tubes sticking out of them.
So, what does Kathy do about this ridiculous tube? Complain? No, that would been my move. Rip it out? No, that would have been my dad's move. Does she engage the pity of the world? She could have and would have gotten it. No. So what does Kathy do?
She names it.
That's right. She named the tube. She named it Axel Larry Osborne. First, middle, and last names. Delightful. Defiant. Subversive. It was nice. She included the tube - into the family! It's an Osborne. She threatened the tube - with inclusion. It's ridiculous to have a tube sticking out of her body and she turns the tables and welcomes it into the family.
And it's not just about being nice to the tube. It's being nice about having a tube. If you were the nurse having to attend to that tube and your patient named it Axel Larry Osborne, wouldn't that be a story to go home and tell? Wouldn't that has made an otherwise difficult job a little more worth it? If you were the nurse, how many other patients had been so hard to deal with? Many of them, as you can imagine. It makes sense to be miserable when the condition of your body is so ridiculous. What makes sense to Kathy, in the middle of her own cancer treatment, is to do something that immediately makes everyone a better person. It's funny. It's innocent. It's so Kathy.
That's it. That's what makes Kathy's nice so diabolically nice. The beast explodes out of the woods and she paints a flower on its tusk.
This is Kathy throwing her fists into the air.
This is Kathy fighting like Hell against a monster.
This is full on Kathy at her very finest.
If I were fighting cancer for one thousand years I would never have come up with naming the tube. It's genius. It's brilliant. It is delightfully defiant and subversive. And nice - it's Kathy Osborne's native language.

Monday, August 15, 2016

Though I Resist

Though I resist,
Time is my teacher,
Anticipating my awareness,
Slow to take as it is
At some enlightened place;
All the evidence
Already accessible
Slow as I am,
Time believes in me

Though I resist
Struggle is my master
Countering my every impulse
Making me earn twice
What I think should take once
Without explanation
Without justification
Frustrated as I get,
Struggle believes in me

Though I resist
Suffering is a misunderstood genius
Sculpting my soul
With ruthless chisel
Into something more like me
Deaf to my cries
Blind to my wounds
As I rage,
Suffering believes in me.

Sunday, August 14, 2016

Thus ends... Thus begins...

We leave in an hour to drop Sierra off at college to start her Freshmen year.

Thus ends...
Thus begins...

She is on this verge of the miracle of launch into adulthood, independence, and freedom like she has never experienced before. It is an exciting time of exploring new contexts, new relationships, and new opportunities. It is the time of making up her mind like she has never had to do before, defining her boundaries likes she has never had to do before, and growing up emotionally and spiritually like she has never had to do before.

She will have the time of her life and she will be bored.
She will meet incredible people and she will meet some real dogs.
She will experience inspiration and she will experience discouragement.
She will rediscover herself because new cultures and contexts for the rediscovery.
She will discover new parts of herself that are a joy, a relief, and are confidence building while she will also find new parts of herself that require attention, management, and care.
She will face questions for which she will have well rehearsed answers and she will face questions which demand more wisdom of her than she has ever had to produce.

These are important days for Sierra Joy Gonzalez.

And we won't see much of any of those days. We will get rare and intermittent dispatches from the frontier - for we, too, are on the verge of the miracle of launch. For 18 years, four months, and 6 days the only way we have ever known how to relate to her landed on the "responsibility for her life" spectrum. And now we're launching from that spectrum to another one called, "watch her fly."

We have only limited experience with this new "watch her fly" role - and we're not very good at it.
We don't know what it's like when she goes "home" to a different bed.
We don't know what it's like for her room to be empty at night - where is the blue glow of her iphone?
We don't know yet how to eat dinner, the three of us rather than the four of us.
We don't yet know how much or how little to communicate and by which means.
We don't yet know how much of her life we'll even get to know.
How will we balance "we've parented our best" and "she's going to need some help"?
How will we navigate so much no knowing?
What will we do with the space left open now that she is filling other space?

These are important days for Chris and Gail Gonzalez.

I rest on these things in this miracle of launch:

1. God's love transcends challenges (Romans 8:38-39)
2. God's still working on us (Philippians 1:6)
3. God can make good out of anything (Romans 8:28)

Friday, July 15, 2016

Beginning To See in Color

When I was born:
  • The Watts Riots were less than 5 years old. 
  • The Voting Rights Act was less than 5 years old.
  • MLK and RFK assissnations were less than 2 years old.
  • Racial tension was high
  • "Jesus loves the little children" was a big hit in Vacation Bible Schools
    • "Red and Yellow, Black and White, they are precious in His sight."
Growing up in suburban, white Minnesota, however, I was buffered from so much of the racial turmoil. Suburban life provided a sort of privilege that kept me located in a place that did not have racial tension, but not because people of different races got along so well. Instead there was no racial tension because there was so little observed racial diversity in Bloomington and Apple Valley, Minnesota - at least not observed by me. 

I had no idea the social, cultural, and political context of the cute little VBS song. I recall my mother making the point, too strongly it seemed at the time, that all people are equal no matter the color of their skin. I also knew jokes about race were not acceptable. 

My childhood years took place in the lingering hangover of the racial violence of the 1960's, but I was not aware of it. 

When I was a teenager in the 1980's, I recall President Reagan aspire to a color-blind approach to race relations. To me, it seemed progressive and fair. And it was, compared to how I understood racism - a collection of offensive jokes and things that happened in history "a long time ago." However, I was not attuned well enough to observe the stark contrast between "red, and yellow, black and white" and being color blind. Frankly, the same people in my life were saying both messages. 

So I was left in a swirl of mixed messages of which I was unaware. 
  • I was unaware that one message highlighted difference while the other message dismissed difference - both messages intended to resolve the huge problem that difference was something people had divided on. 
  • I was unaware that difference was used to rank people. I couldn't see it because social structures such as housing, economics, churches and the social networks within them kept me deeply buffered into my own kind. 
  • I was unaware that history is not static, but sets trajetories. I  knew some bad stuff happened once upon a time, but I was unaware of 
    • how moments in history, ranging from individual behaviors to massive societal systemic processes, served to create the framework for the future, 
    • how moments in history gave us the vocabulary for very current conversations, 
    • how  moments in history caused wounds that were slow to heal
    • how moments in history highlighted and obscured what seemed availabe to grasp as reality.  
Many of these processes have come to light to me - the older I get the more of them I see. I am certain there are more to come. It is unnerving seeing the processes set in place that keep people ranking each other's value, that keep people objectifying each other based on arbitrary criteria, that keep people living their lives by perceived threats that perpetuate strategies of threat management. For example, the accumulation of aggressive and violent means of eliminating threat and keeping these mean in reserve just in case - resulting in a silent arms race that seeks to resolve our fear by show of force.  

I think we can agree that skin color is not the problem. 
I think we can all agree skin color differences do not deserve violence. 
I think we can all agree skin color should not change a person's risk of being killed. 

Where people diverge is how meaning has been and is currently being assigned to skin color. From assigned meaning flows how much people will tolerate someone being treated badly. The paradoxical and problematic process in place is that the people most invested in articulating a message of "race doesn't matter" are the very same people for whom race has served very well - and mattered quite a lot in their favor. Admittedly, it is much easier to notice suffering due to race when you are the one suffering than it is to notice privileges and opportunties due to race when you are the one experienceing the privileges and opportunities. Suffering is seen as unjust while privileges and opportunities experienced long enough simply register as normal - like "what have you done wrong NOT to be getting these privileges and opportunities? Look at me - I did it."

I see color now. I see "Red and Yellow Black and White" and Brown and Olive and... I see how the distribution of justice is skewed one way and distribution of privilege is skewed the in the opposite way. I still believe skin color does not cause problems. At the same time, I do believe that the assigned meaning to skin color by humans has gotten us to where we are right now. And where we are today needs improvement. 

I see color. I see color and I think everyone should see color as well. But when we see color, 
  • I want to see color redemptively, not by some ranking system.
  • I want to see color and have all manner of positive assumptions be the first thoughts I have.
  • I want to see color as God's imagination.
  • I want see color as an indicator that I have something to learn.
  • I want to see color and wonder what special thing God has hidden within that culture He has not hidden within mine. 
  • I want to see color and feel relieved that there are more people than people just like me.
  • I want to see color and wonder what great strength has emerged within the cutlure that has arisen around that color.
  • I want to see color. 
  • I want to see color. 
  • I want to see color. 
What do you want to see when you see color?
What do you want to look for when you see color? 
What will you need to get over in order to see color redemptively? 

We can do this. 

Tuesday, July 12, 2016

I say "Black Lives Matter"

I say ‪#‎Blacklivesmatter‬ because there is so much history and current events suggesting that black lives have not mattered enough and still do not matter enough.
In slavery, Black lives did not matter enough
In the US constitution, Black lives did not matter enough
In the Jim Crow era, Black lives did not matter enough
In the Selma, Black lives did not matter enough
In department stores, Black lives do not matter enough
On roads and highways, Black lives do not matter enough

In prisons, Black lives do not matter enough
In Baton Rouge and Falcon Heights, Black lives did not matter enough
Until we have experienced no fewer than three generations of unquestioned equality, we will not have said #Blacklivesmatter enough.
Currently, we have not had five straight minutes of unquestioned equality.
Let's get to work.

Sunday, July 10, 2016

Uhm, I Don't Have Any Black Friends

Here is a somewhat awkward post about white privilege and black lives matter by a guy named Gonzalez, but here it goes.

I have friends who are Black. Real friends. Life long friends who I went to church camp with as a kid, who I went to college with when I was trying to learn how to be an adult, who stood up for me as groomsmen in my wedding, and continue to be great friends.

So how did that happen? Luck. Honestly, it was luck. Perhaps it was more than luck and it was an act of God. All I know is that it did not happen by any effort on my part to connect with Black people.

I grew up attending nearly all white schools.
I went to a nearly all white colleges for undergrad, masters and doctorate.
I have always lived in nearly all white neighborhoods.
I have always attended nearly all white churches.
All of my jobs except 1 have been in nearly all white workplaces.
I married a white woman.
I have white children.
I shop where white people shop.
I eat out where white people eat out.

How in the world am I supposed to have a bunch of Black friends if everywhere I go is filled with white people?

And that is exactly the right question. I have made choices within the existing institutions, social structures, and geographies that were presented to me. In short, I have lived my whole life in the flow of a culture that made being with white people the easiest, most obvious and most advantageous choices for me to make - over and over and over again. Other options were available, yes, but mostly obscured from my eyes.

I would have had to work and work hard to choose otherwise.

I do not have friends who are Black because I ever traveled a cultural divide of any kind, but rather because my friends who are Black have lived, for whatever reason, in my predominantly white world. I am grateful for that, humbled by it. It costs them something (every single day) to live in this world that it does not cost me.

When I talk about white privilege, it is (usually) not some sinister thing white people intentionally do to be extra super white. It is not about white people saying, "hey, look at me, I'm all white and we all know what that means." Instead it means that there are institutions and social processes already in motion that highlight options, possibilities and expectations for white people that keep white people all together and obscure a broad scope of options, possibilities, and expectations that would integrate people. The available options often times have benefits to them provided the individual works hard and plays by the rules (and sometimes working hard and playing by the rules are optional). These benefits are enticing and who doesn't like benefits?

The problem is that these same options are not highlighted for non-whites as often as for whites and they are often not nearly as accessible. The options, possibilities, and expectations for non-whites are different and often have fewer benefits. Much of these options are obscured from view for non-whites. The cultural flow passes by non-whites differently than it does whites - and sometimes it is not even the same cultural river flowing by.

These processes are generally not sinister on the individual level (the level at which most people take offense when they hear the world "privilege"), but they are on the cultural and institutional level. Very few white people wake up each morning and say to themselves, "Ahhh yes, another day to cash in on my white privilege at the expense of non-whites." And no one is really making the accusation that white people are saying such things (with the exception of a few corrupt CEOs of major corporations). What is so sinister about the societal and institutional levels of white privilege is that they are mostly so invisible to the people accessing them that they feel normal.

But Chris, aren't you Latino? How can you even talk about white privilege? 

It is a fair question if we have never met. I assure you, I have my white card. So here goes: I do get junk mail written in Spanish sometimes (that I can't read), get a sweet farmer's tan in the summer and three generations ago my great grandparents who I never met lived in Mexico. But I am as Mexican as Tom Fischer from Nebraska is German. Family processes and American culture have effectively scrubbed so much Mexican from my identity. I love being a Gonzalez, but that's now you learn Spanish or have a cultural identity. Yes, I have had some moments that remind me I am not always seen as white, but generally I pass as white and if my name were Smith, I would probably always pass as white.

My point in all of this is that what we are facing is not only on the individual level, but it is also on the cultural level and includes institutions and social processes with long histories that perpetuate divisions between people - even if those divisions are not part of the current intention of the institution. The divisiveness survives because they are not overtly intention and "normal."

What I need to do is to create space in the normal and consistent flow of my life where I am in a context where I am not part of the dominant culture. I need to situate myself into places where I am the learner, the student, the one who has to work hard to understand what the assumptions, expectations, and options are. Sometimes I need to be in a context where it is impossible for me to ever be the expert or the hero.

Perhaps if I can find a way to get the privilege of being invited into the flow of another culture I could have more non-white friends.

Friday, July 08, 2016

Black Lives Don't Matter...Enough

Philando Castile and Alton Sterling are dead. Unnecessarily dead. They were killed by police officers whose job it is to protect and serve. Somehow in their efforts to protect and to serve, two men are dead.

How could this ever happen? How could this ever happen again? There is no indication that these men did anything worthy of being killed. Not even close. So if they did not do anything that required their deaths, then why are they dead?

There are lots of things we want to be true that are not true. We want some things to be true because it sure would make it a lot simpler.  We want this to be an isolated event. It isn't.  We want the killing to be justified in some way. It isn't. We want it not to be about race. It is getting to be an impossible argument to justify given how often this happens.

Under what conditions does it make any sense that black men keep getting killed by police? Is it the same processes that allow my white law breaking friend with no front license plate get away with it for 8 years while my black friend who one time broke an obscure law about dog walking get cuffed and stuffed? Maybe. What are those conditions, if they even exist?

The energy that is perpetuating the sense that Black Lives Don't Matter Enough could possibly flow from three different, but related social processes

None of us feel the upper level winds. The upper level winds are not something we feel on our skin. However, these winds can push a hurricane toward us or away from us. They can move a massive blizzard north or south. No one can see or feel the upper level winds as they are imperceiveable, but the implications of what they do to the things that do impact people are highly consequential.

Perhaps we can think of prevailing cultural norms and performed cultural assumptions as the upper level winds that push the hurricanes and blizzards of discrimination, objectification, and ranking of people's value based on arbitrary categories such as skin color. My point is that there may be some very powerful forces at work that are not easily observed (by some)

One might rush to call out racism as the problem - and I agree that it is, but what if the word racism did not exist? What if we had to describe the processes at work using other terms? What are these processes at work that make it more likely that people with darker skin will get worse treatment, in general, than people with lighter skin?

Resisting White Privilege Erosion
The privileges that white people enjoy in the world and in the United States are many. However, these privileges have been modestly eroding over time (and that is very good and a very "Declaration of Independence-ish" thing by the way). With civil rights progressing slowly and in fits and spurts as well as demographic shifts from white to non-white accelerating, the power structure of people who are white owning and controlling most things, organizations, and political offices is in modest decline. Make no mistake, Whites are still the most privileged by far, but there is modest decline and it is being detected by some whites.

No one likes to lose privilege. It is not a person's "whiteness" that makes them not like losing privilege, it is their humanness. Being white is not a sin and no one should be made to defend themselves because of their skin color. Not liking the loss of privilege is a human thing. The privilege in the USA just happens to be distributed in vastly greater quantities to whites right here and right now - and often, if not usually, it is at the cost of non-whites.

When people feel like they are losing something that they believe belongs to them, they are going to put up some resistance. With the the modest erosion of white privilege occurring in the USA, there is a coalescing resistance to the erosion that appears to be gaining momentum. In some cases, there is a no holds barred resistance to the recent modest erosion of white privilege and it gets ugly.

Resistance to white privilege erosion manifests itself in claims of reverse discrimination, in knee jerk reactions to immigration policies, in convenient amnesia concerning the relatively short history of the nation in general and what appears to be the betrayal of the melting pot impulses that made this country great in the first place.

For example, when a black man is killed by police and it is highlighted in the news, it is almost certain that someone will post something like this on social media: "White man killed by police and no one cares" or someone will post the pseudo enlightened statement about how All Lives Matter. Yes, all lives matter. The white lives matter, but this fact is not even in question. The extent to which the Black Lives Matter or matter enough is most certainly in question. These are a couple of the many, many ways that resistance to the erosion of white privilege plays out. The irony of the resistance to the erosion of white privilege is that it can only be considered a just response based upon the assumption that the very privilege being defended doesn't exist.

Furthermore, resistance to white privilege erosion necessitates identifying who the "eroders" are - which of course ends up being those with less privilege - non-whites. Resisting the erosion of white privilege must have enemies and people who are considered the "takers." Resisting the erosion of white privilege is a social process that is divisive and can be very immoral, and runs a terrible risk of being vulnerable to the seduction of unthinkable things. The narrative of White Supremacy can filter its way in and take root before it is even recognized - some otherwise honest person could become an accidental White Supremacist. Not good.

Black Lives Matter is hard to accept for the person who is resisting the erosion of their privilege. If resisting the erosion of white privilege is paramount, then Black Lives Don't Matter...Enough.

Indifferent White Silence
If resisting the erosion of white privilege is one process that foments the conditions where hostility could erupt, the indifference of white silence is white privilege leveraged against non-whites. Being socially situated to have the option of apathy can feel like a neutral non-response to events and social processes that occur seemingly outside of circle of influence or circle of concern, but indifferent white silence is anything but neutral. The "not my problem" mentality is itself an act of hostility. Indifferent white silence is potentially lethal.

How is it that the (mostly white) right to life people are silent when people are killed?
How is it that the (mostly white) NRA is silent when guns are used to kill people whose right to carry is leveraged against them?
How is it that white church is silent on these matters? And if not silent, almost completely inactive?

The social process of indifferent white silence means there will never be the necessary relationships that allow for the strengths of diversity. It perpetuates the distance that makes the kinds of devastating losses experienced in Baton Rouge and Falcon Heights not hurt white people. Indifferent white silence serves to insulate white people from the pain experienced by Blacks that would otherwise motivate action. If lots of white people were friends with the people who were killed, the white people would experience the loss in ways that would not be tolerable. When your friend is unjustly killed, it is impossible to be indifferent. It is impossible to be silent. When it is someone unlike you or anyone you know, who lives way over there, and might be in a group the appears to be involved in the erosion of your privilege, it is pretty hard to care much about the loss. In such a case, caring about such tragedies is optional.

Black Lives Matter is hard to accept while maintaining a social process of indifference and silence. If protecting the right to be indifferent and silent is paramount, then Black Lives Don't Matter...Enough.

Perpetuating White Obliviousness
One of the most insidious conditions of privilege of any kind is how much obliviousness can be up and running. Obliviousness is a difficult condition to remove because by definition there is no awareness of its existence. People who have more privilege do not need to know the assumptions, experiences, or burdens of people with less privilege because there is no perceived gain worth putting forth the effort. The perpetuation of White obliviousness is almost impossible to detect, and in the rare cases it is detected, it is difficult to motivate the unraveling of the obliviousness in order connect with less privileged people. People with less privilege, however, have to be aware of those with more privilege because it may be that there is some stake in it for them.

I want to make the point that obliviousness is not the same as stupid. Obliviousness is to be unaware of knowledge or information while being stupid is incapable of having the knowledge or information. It is not about intelligence, but it is about perspective.

Now, obliviousness can operate at the individual level, and that is problematic enough. However, obliviousness does its best and most sinister work at the level of social process. The unwritten rules, the unspoken rules, and even the unknown rules that keep entire groups of White people unaware of the everyday realities of non-Whites generally operate in ways that are experienced as "normal." No one is trying to be oblivious, but when all of the options highlighted before someone are all different ways to continue to be oblivious of certain things while being aware of others, there is little chance to break through the social forces at work to become aware.

However, the way to break the obliviousness is to take initiative and make friends with people who have less privilege. The blinders can come off quickly when you are friends with people who do not carry the same sets of assumptions as you do.

Black Lives Matter is hard to accept while perpetuating White obliviousness. If the commitment to simply choosing from the easy options available without exploring what it is like to be someone with less privilege is paramount, then Black Lives Don't Matter...Enough.

Are the upper level winds of White Privilege in America pushing hurricanes and blizzards of horrific outcomes like the killings of Philando Castile and Alton Sterling? Are the social processes of resisting white privilege erosion, maintaining indifferent white silence, and perpetuating white obliviousness actually social processes and if they are do they have any bearing on the recent violence? I don't know for certain. What I do know is that these processes increase the likelihood of division between people, weaken the social safety net, and make genuine empathy between Whites and non-Whites next to impossible.

When Black Lives Matter Enough to everyone, then we collectively take away the current and completely unnecessary risks of being Black  in America. Until then, we are all partially complicit in contributing to the conditions that make killing make sense..

Monday, June 27, 2016

Wonder Bees

Morning Reflection
Isaiah 48:6-7
New International Version (NIV)

6 You have heard these things; look at them all.
Will you not admit them?
“From now on I will tell you of new things,
of hidden things unknown to you.
7 They are created now, and not long ago;
you have not heard of them before today.
So you cannot say,
‘Yes, I knew of them.’
Fear-driven contempt for not not-knowing can drive the wonder right out of a person, the humility extracted out with cruel efficiency. Discomfort with anything not known can drive one to believe that there is little that is unkonwn, that all is already known. Nothing a surprise. Nothing new. All for the sake of comfort.

The lust for certainty can constuct illusions of control that prompt delusions of power. The only change desired is controlled change, managed change, manipulated change. Such demands and requirements for certainty factor out the kind of awe-producing spontaneity that opens wide the hearts of children and unleashes unmitigated creativity and joy.

Fear of the not known, a lust for certainty, the demand to be in control not only erodes any sense of need for God, but perhaps even more devastating, it wears aways at any sense of want for God. An unneeded and unwanted God will disappear, or worse, be a god that looks remarkably like me.
Finding the not known so utterly intolerable such that all must be known, all mysteries solved, all change predicted promises that this pathway will lead to comfort, peace, and even joy when it actually leads to more discomfort, increased injustice, and the increas of suffering.

This morning, it is not a surprise that the bees are in the clover, but their flight paths, their precarious dangling on the tips of the flowers, their dance among each other tells me a little story of wonder. The math and science of the bees are lost me for the art of the bees.

I am left with the spontaneity of the experience.
I am left with the anticipation of what they will do next.
I am left with the great blessing of.
"I didn't know that would happen."