He is NOT a threat.

Women pulled their purses tighter when he walked by. 

At 2:30 in the afternoon.  

In a popular department store.

My husband evidently was viewed as threatening. 

The mere thought that the man who loves me, protects me, honors me, and cares for me, was being perceived as potentially dangerous would be laughable if it wasn’t actually thought. Actually considered. Actually believed.

The women had no basis for this belief for he neither said anything nor did anything to them or around them.

He simply walked by them as he shopped for clothes. 

He, the man whom I have seen help total strangers time and time again, simply walked by them.

He, my black husband, simply walked by them.

I know it’s a seemingly small and subtle form of racism that is not newsworthy but this one hit home for me. The absurdity of such a bogus reaction simply because he has a beautifully dark skin tone was hurtful.  As he told me the story, there was no anger in his voice or disgust in his temperament- it was more incredulous. He was dumbfounded that it happened.  He almost found it interesting, initially. Almost. Until it kept happening.

As I heard the story, I, on the other hand went from incredulousness, to anger, to frustration, to despair, to bewilderment and back to anger again. In about 1.78 seconds.

It’s been a little while now since it happened, and I still experience all those emotions every time I think about it. I think I’ve landed in heartache, however.  There’s something especially painful at having the person you love and respect more than any other, be so horrifically misjudged.  I wish I could believe that 2016 will be the year of no racism. No microagressions. No hatred. No subtle prejudice or blatant bias.

But the reality is that we aren’t there yet. Our country, our state, our city simply isn’t there yet.  Your state, your city simply isn’t there yet.  To deny that there is still racism is to only add to the problem. To deny that there isn’t racism within the church is to only break the heart of God. To deny that there isn’t bias within my own heart is to only help the dividedness instead of the healing.

You see friends, as much as I wanted to give those women a piece of my mind, I was rebuked in my spirit. God reminded me that I too am guilty of prejudice. Of horribly misinformed stereotypes. Of bias. They might look different than clutching my purse as a black man walks by, but they are just as serious and just as wrong.

I know I’m not alone.

Maybe you judged someone who wore a Muslim dress. Maybe the Indian woman in her sari. Maybe the white man with sagging jeans. Maybe the Asian woman who didn’t speak English fluently.  Maybe the Taco Bell employee. The Target cashier. The anorexic girl. The heavyset boy.

Should I continue?

I’d ask for you to consider doing two things.  Two things that I have been doing myself. If we all committed to these two things, we would see our city start to change.  Then our state. Then our country.

1) Ask God to show us our own areas of bias and racism.

Spend time asking for His forgiveness and grace to change.

2) Start speaking truth.  

Start telling your friend who makes the racists jokes that they aren’t funny.

Start explaining to your parents why you disagree with their view of people with a different ethnic background.

Start reminding your siblings that the person they are making fun of was created in the image of God and they have no place to mock that.

Start engaging your coworkers in conversations about the beauty in diversity.

Start researching the subjects you don’t understand so that you can speak truth instead of fiction.

As much as I wish I could, I can’t change the women’s minds in the store that day. But I can let God change me. And that’s enough to change the world.