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.
