On October 4, you can start listening to Rev. Lake's sermons on Blog Talk Radio.
Life is tough.
Many people, with many agendas try to tell us the best way to be. When you feel you are pulled from many directions, start Turning It Around Today.
If you are living a way that you never really wanted, start Turning It Around Today.
Life is fun when you turn it around.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Coming Out and Coming to Life
Mother of four daughters, wife for 15 years, Black, and lesbian. The day I looked in the mirror and said, 'you are lesbian' to my 30 something self was the day I claimed my right to a life without longing. The longing that was always with me, the longing I had learned to live around, the longing that did not have a name was gone; banished by a woman's touch. To my shock and horror, that made me lesbian. In retrospect, the day the longing stopped was the day I became an abomination to the Black community.
Before coming out, I was comfortable and afraid at the same time. I had a safe life with a Black man who was a good provider and faithful husband. I was protected, secure, and valued by the larger African/American community. I was a mother, which meant that I was doing my part to ensure that African/Americans continued into the future. Black men respected me and looked at our family with admiration. I was a wife, which meant that supporting Black men was most important to me. Other women called me blessed because I had a good husband and beautiful daughters. My mother-in-law introduced me to her friends with pride. My future was secure. My place was defined. My heart was fearful. I was afraid of being alone.
Overnight my greatest fear came true. With one forbidden touch, my future became uncertain. Being lesbian meant that I was something to be exorcised from the Black community. Suddenly, people assumed that I hated men, especially Black men. Mothers protected their children from me, and looked at my daughters and ex-husband with pity. Men took it upon themselves to correct my lesbian waywardness through unwanted sexual advances. My in-laws shunned me. My friends avoided me. Coming out meant I had no community. I had no protection. In my mid-30's and rejected by the overall Black community, I found myself searching for acceptance in the gay community.
The failure of established gay rights activist to engage Black communities in the battle to oppose Prop 8 and similar anti-gay movements tells me that what I experienced in the mid-90's is relevant today. As a newly out Black lesbian looking to the gay community for the acceptance I had lost, I quickly learned that my oppression, my pain, and my presence were important only when they validated the white gay agenda. This means that for the most part, Black LGBT people are neither valued nor wanted. Our experiences are not valuable to white LGBT communities and our presence is not wanted in Black heterosexual communities. This puts Black LGBT people in a chasm of indifference and apathy. The world is indifferent to our struggles and we become apathetic to our own pain. We learn not to value who we are. We learn to ignore our pain. We learn to live with internalized homophobia.
I was very much stuck in that chasm for years. I did not value who I was, so I did not demand the respect that I deserved. In addition, I did not acknowledge my own pain. When my partner and I found each other, and decided to make a life-long commitment, there was no celebration with family and friends. No community blessing and no welcome to the family. Being ignored and ostracized in this way hurt, and deep down I believed that I deserved the treatment. This was my internalized homophobia.
Ignoring my pain, and not expecting our relationship to be honored by family and society only served to damage my relationship with my partner. Recently my partner and I have started working to repair the damage caused by internalized homophobia. To do this, we both had to understand how anti-gay attitudes hurt us and how internalized homophobia hurts our relationship. The work is difficult. We have to trust our wisdom and respect the wisdom of the other. Most important, though, we both have to come out of our fear. We have to release the fear of being alone. Stop being afraid of offending those who could care less about our happiness.
Coming out meant losing the longing. Coming to life means losing my fear.
Before coming out, I was comfortable and afraid at the same time. I had a safe life with a Black man who was a good provider and faithful husband. I was protected, secure, and valued by the larger African/American community. I was a mother, which meant that I was doing my part to ensure that African/Americans continued into the future. Black men respected me and looked at our family with admiration. I was a wife, which meant that supporting Black men was most important to me. Other women called me blessed because I had a good husband and beautiful daughters. My mother-in-law introduced me to her friends with pride. My future was secure. My place was defined. My heart was fearful. I was afraid of being alone.
Overnight my greatest fear came true. With one forbidden touch, my future became uncertain. Being lesbian meant that I was something to be exorcised from the Black community. Suddenly, people assumed that I hated men, especially Black men. Mothers protected their children from me, and looked at my daughters and ex-husband with pity. Men took it upon themselves to correct my lesbian waywardness through unwanted sexual advances. My in-laws shunned me. My friends avoided me. Coming out meant I had no community. I had no protection. In my mid-30's and rejected by the overall Black community, I found myself searching for acceptance in the gay community.
The failure of established gay rights activist to engage Black communities in the battle to oppose Prop 8 and similar anti-gay movements tells me that what I experienced in the mid-90's is relevant today. As a newly out Black lesbian looking to the gay community for the acceptance I had lost, I quickly learned that my oppression, my pain, and my presence were important only when they validated the white gay agenda. This means that for the most part, Black LGBT people are neither valued nor wanted. Our experiences are not valuable to white LGBT communities and our presence is not wanted in Black heterosexual communities. This puts Black LGBT people in a chasm of indifference and apathy. The world is indifferent to our struggles and we become apathetic to our own pain. We learn not to value who we are. We learn to ignore our pain. We learn to live with internalized homophobia.
I was very much stuck in that chasm for years. I did not value who I was, so I did not demand the respect that I deserved. In addition, I did not acknowledge my own pain. When my partner and I found each other, and decided to make a life-long commitment, there was no celebration with family and friends. No community blessing and no welcome to the family. Being ignored and ostracized in this way hurt, and deep down I believed that I deserved the treatment. This was my internalized homophobia.
Ignoring my pain, and not expecting our relationship to be honored by family and society only served to damage my relationship with my partner. Recently my partner and I have started working to repair the damage caused by internalized homophobia. To do this, we both had to understand how anti-gay attitudes hurt us and how internalized homophobia hurts our relationship. The work is difficult. We have to trust our wisdom and respect the wisdom of the other. Most important, though, we both have to come out of our fear. We have to release the fear of being alone. Stop being afraid of offending those who could care less about our happiness.
Coming out meant losing the longing. Coming to life means losing my fear.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
What About Gay Rights?
Interpretations of why Prop 8 and other proposals like them passed this year range from 'people of color' banded against gays to free flowing money from right-wing churches bought success. Blame is plentiful and as free flowing as money was from both sides of the proposition before the election. Prop 8 passed in, of all places, California. The gay rights community is now left to answer questions like why? Why did the proposition pass? How? How could such a defeat happen at a time when the country also elected its first African/American president?
The passing of Prop 8 reveals the ongoing challenges of racism and misogyny that the gay community faces. The passing of Prop 8 represents failure and these failures have to be recognized, addressed, and corrected before we will ever obtain equality in America.
We failed to make the moral case for why it is important for society to honor our committed relationships. Instead, we made the mistake of accepting the perception of our opposition and then building an answer in response. This means that we fought a losing battle of change. We tried to change the beliefs of another and lost. In so doing we lost sight of the fact that Americans have the right to believe what they want as long as their beliefs do not infringe on another person's rights. The real tragedy behind the passing of Prop 8 is that there is another crack in Thomas Jefferson's wall of separation.
We failed to communicate the ethical reasons why our life-long partners should have equal protection and equal privilege. Instead, we made the mistake of engaging the theological battle over whether or not marriage was meant to exist between two men or two women. This means that we fought another losing battle of change. We tried to change people's understanding of their religious dogma. In so doing, we lost sight of the fact that Americans can accept whatever religious dogma they choose as long as their dogma is not forced on the rest of us.
Marriage is both secular and religious. Secular marriage between same gender couples means that we will have the same legal protections and privileges as opposite gender couples. No religious group will be forced to perform a ceremony that contradicts their dogma. The real tragedy behind the passing of Prop 8 is that a particular religious dogma has been voted into law.
We failed to recognize our limitations and work to eliminate them. A major limitation that may be painful for white gay males to recognize is that they are often experienced by Blacks and Latino/as regardless of gender and orientation as self centered and less invested in addressing the oppression of people they see as others.
The world in which white gay men usually travel has virtually no external pressure to expand their world-view so that it includes people they see as different. Unlike women and people of color who are forced to understand and navigate the world of our oppressors, white gay men can decide when and if they see and address the oppression of others. In addition, they can decide when and if they acknowledge the times they benefit from an oppressive society.
We failed to see each other as equal partners and chose to treat each other as enemies. The legacies of racism and misogyny in the gay community have caused a great deal of damage in the past. That damage needs to be heard and reconciled. Through the years and today, gays have banded together and consistently used Black and Latino/a leaders only long enough to co-opt our ideas, passion, and work.
Just as many years, we have thrown down gauntlet after gauntlet demanding that racism be addressed and brought to an end in gay America. These gauntlets have yet to be picked up. Over the years and today, the leadership of women who love women have been consistently resisted or negated. We have been seen and treated as a means to promote or attain the agenda of white gay men. We have thrown our gauntlets down at the feet of gay America in our calls for recognition and equality within. Our gauntlets have yet to be picked up.
In Matthew 7:6, we are cautioned not give dogs what is sacred and not to throw our pearls to swine. We have decisions to make if we are going to change the direction our country appears to be heading in relation to gay rights. Do we grow up as a people, own our mistakes, and work together to correct them? Or, do we continue to take to the street and in so doing validate the likes of Fred Phelps with our sacred energy, attention, and presence? Do we listen to the ways we have excluded and colonized one another? Do we accept the effects of our actions? Or, do we continue to waste our pearls of intellect, vision, and passion on those whose hearts can only be changed by God?
Perhaps if we see that we have been giving dogs what is sacred all while the sacred among us have been ignored or silenced, we will stop picking up gauntlets thrown by the Fred Phelps of the world. Perhaps if we stop throwing our pearls to swine when the pearls among us continue to leave the community, we will find more honest ways to make our case for equality to the rest of America.
Reverend Deborah Elandus Lake, M.Div.
The passing of Prop 8 reveals the ongoing challenges of racism and misogyny that the gay community faces. The passing of Prop 8 represents failure and these failures have to be recognized, addressed, and corrected before we will ever obtain equality in America.
We failed to make the moral case for why it is important for society to honor our committed relationships. Instead, we made the mistake of accepting the perception of our opposition and then building an answer in response. This means that we fought a losing battle of change. We tried to change the beliefs of another and lost. In so doing we lost sight of the fact that Americans have the right to believe what they want as long as their beliefs do not infringe on another person's rights. The real tragedy behind the passing of Prop 8 is that there is another crack in Thomas Jefferson's wall of separation.
We failed to communicate the ethical reasons why our life-long partners should have equal protection and equal privilege. Instead, we made the mistake of engaging the theological battle over whether or not marriage was meant to exist between two men or two women. This means that we fought another losing battle of change. We tried to change people's understanding of their religious dogma. In so doing, we lost sight of the fact that Americans can accept whatever religious dogma they choose as long as their dogma is not forced on the rest of us.
Marriage is both secular and religious. Secular marriage between same gender couples means that we will have the same legal protections and privileges as opposite gender couples. No religious group will be forced to perform a ceremony that contradicts their dogma. The real tragedy behind the passing of Prop 8 is that a particular religious dogma has been voted into law.
We failed to recognize our limitations and work to eliminate them. A major limitation that may be painful for white gay males to recognize is that they are often experienced by Blacks and Latino/as regardless of gender and orientation as self centered and less invested in addressing the oppression of people they see as others.
The world in which white gay men usually travel has virtually no external pressure to expand their world-view so that it includes people they see as different. Unlike women and people of color who are forced to understand and navigate the world of our oppressors, white gay men can decide when and if they see and address the oppression of others. In addition, they can decide when and if they acknowledge the times they benefit from an oppressive society.
We failed to see each other as equal partners and chose to treat each other as enemies. The legacies of racism and misogyny in the gay community have caused a great deal of damage in the past. That damage needs to be heard and reconciled. Through the years and today, gays have banded together and consistently used Black and Latino/a leaders only long enough to co-opt our ideas, passion, and work.
Just as many years, we have thrown down gauntlet after gauntlet demanding that racism be addressed and brought to an end in gay America. These gauntlets have yet to be picked up. Over the years and today, the leadership of women who love women have been consistently resisted or negated. We have been seen and treated as a means to promote or attain the agenda of white gay men. We have thrown our gauntlets down at the feet of gay America in our calls for recognition and equality within. Our gauntlets have yet to be picked up.
In Matthew 7:6, we are cautioned not give dogs what is sacred and not to throw our pearls to swine. We have decisions to make if we are going to change the direction our country appears to be heading in relation to gay rights. Do we grow up as a people, own our mistakes, and work together to correct them? Or, do we continue to take to the street and in so doing validate the likes of Fred Phelps with our sacred energy, attention, and presence? Do we listen to the ways we have excluded and colonized one another? Do we accept the effects of our actions? Or, do we continue to waste our pearls of intellect, vision, and passion on those whose hearts can only be changed by God?
Perhaps if we see that we have been giving dogs what is sacred all while the sacred among us have been ignored or silenced, we will stop picking up gauntlets thrown by the Fred Phelps of the world. Perhaps if we stop throwing our pearls to swine when the pearls among us continue to leave the community, we will find more honest ways to make our case for equality to the rest of America.
Reverend Deborah Elandus Lake, M.Div.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
The Problem Is…
Laura Washington’s Chicago Sun Times article on May 19, 2008 and Amy Wooten’s May 28th follow-up article in the Windy City Times have sparked new energy in an ongoing debate between the business owners and residents of Chicago’s Lakeview Boystown neighborhood, and some adult Black LGBTQ self-identified youth advocates. The debate, often heated, passionate, and littered with accusations of racism, is over how to handle the teens who come to the gay focused Boystown from the south and west sides of Chicago.
During the community forums that I have attended over the years, I heard several concerns. Business owners said they worried that the teens interfered with the coming and going of their patrons. Residents said they were frustrated because the teens were noisy and disrupted the peace by congregating on street corners and rough housing well into the early morning hours. Some youth advocates said they felt attacked because Black and Latino teens were being targeted due to racism. These continued debates and strong feelings happen in the context of taboo and blame. There are issues that we do not explore and some of us use accusations to silence and bully people.
One of our biggest taboos is the fact that many LGBTQ teens from the south and west sides of Chicago come to Boystown because they are not safe in their homes and neighborhoods. Indeed, some LGBTQ teens are homeless because their parents threw them out. The youth advocates who say Black and Latino LGBTQ teens are not welcome in Boystown because of racism may very well be correct, but the teens are not welcome in their homes, churches, schools, and neighborhoods because of homophobia either.
In his April 2007 entry for the Chronicle of Higher Education’s ‘News Blog’ Lawrence Biemiller describes the overt homophobia in historically Black colleges that often goes unchallenged. He reports that there are a disproportionately small number of gay student organizations in historically Black colleges due in part to the unwillingness of faculty members to serve as advisers. In addition, since 2004, students at the historically Black Hampton University tried unsuccessfully to get a gay/straight alliance approved by the administration according to Elizabeth A. Perry in her February 2007 article for the Washington Blade.
Black LGBTQ same gender loving people many times see exposing homophobia within their communities as taboo. This means that while White young people often find college to be a safe place to explore their sexuality, Black and Latino who attend historically Black colleges have the opposite experience with scarce support from the adult Black LGBTQ community. Consequently, they are left to navigate hostile social, religious, and educational settings without having space to even name the hostility. They are left to mend from painful experiences without having consistent guidance in how to develop affirming relationships as LGBTQ people. As a result, young Black and Latino LGBTQ people sometimes come to believe that they belong on the fringe of society, and build their lives on that belief.
The National Development and Research Institutes, Inc. in New York released their 2004 abstract of a study by Gwadz MV, Clatts MC, Leonard NR, & Goldsamt L that identified what they called fearful attachment style (one's core beliefs regarding the self and others) in young men who have sex with men (MSM). They connect the fearful attachment style to the increased potential that young MSM will leave the protective systems of family, school, and work and decide to remain and function in risky communities where they are less likely to encounter ‘pro-social peers’ and adults. The writers of this study concluded that young MSM who develop this fearful attachment style are more likely to have been homeless, to have participated in sex work, to use substances daily, to have been involved in the criminal justice system, and to be out of school/work.
This means that young LGBTQ people who ‘come out’ and are consequently abandoned by their families and communities are at greater risk for developing the fearful attachment style and believing that the world is an unsafe place. They are at greater risk for not seeing family, school, church, neighborhood, and work as sources of protection and safety. They are at greater risk for seeing no alternative to joining fringe communities, and they are less likely to develop positive relationships with peers, loved ones, and safe adults. The challenge for the wider adult LGBTQ community as Black and Latino LGBTQ teens emerge toward adulthood is to help them develop identities that are proudly Black and Latino, confidently LGBTQ, and solidly part of mainstream society. Our challenge is to help teens make decisions that will result in them being prepared to enter society as successful doctors, lawyers, teachers, entrepreneurs, parents, ministers, politicians…
As Black and Latino/a LGBTQ adults, we have a choice to make. We can get distracted, yet another summer, by claims of White racism as warm weather and excitement draws teens to Boystown’s nightlife area. Or we can do something different as a community. We can teach with our actions that being LGBTQ means more than turfs, clicks, race, gender, sex, and political affiliation. Being LGBTQ also means doing the difficult work of forming honest relationships with family, friends, peers, colleagues, and yes, perceived enemies. We can spend yet another summer describing why racism is the problem. Or we can show with our actions that a problem is no more than a means to bring people together.
As White LGBTQ adults, we have a choice to make. We can become bogged down, yet another summer, with justifying our need to feel safe and get a good night’s sleep. Or we can do something different as a community. We can teach with our actions that being LGBTQ means more than turfs, clicks, race, gender, sex, and political affiliation. Being LGBTQ also means that we use the resources we have to help create equality, freedom, and safety for everyone. We can spend yet another summer describing why crowds of noisy, strong, boisterous young people are the problem. Or we can show with our actions that a problem is no more than a means to have honest conversation about our needs.
Yes, we have choices to make. We can continue to honor taboos, look for blame, act out of guilt, and treat one another with suspicion. We can continue to see each other as ‘those’ people, and continue to argue about who has the right to make change happen. We can continue the fight about change all while another year passes and the only change we see is in the faces of the people arguing. Another year passes and the only change that happens is more young people are lost to HIV, addiction, or abuse.
Or we can take the opportunity this summer brings to think and talk about what we owe to the future. We can think about the wisdom we have gained through our mistakes and our successes. We can talk about the guidance we could give a young 15 year old, for instance, who is thinking about telling his mother that he’s gay. We can think about the ways we could help him explore some of the effects of coming out before he has to live with the choice he makes. We can talk about how to parent the young people who are already homeless.
Having raised three biological daughters from infancy to adulthood, I know how difficult adolescence can be for both the parent and the child. There are times when, as parents, we need to step back and watch as our children flap their wings in the nest, and there are times when we need to step up and say: this is not the time to fly. There are times when we should heed to what young people want, and there are times when we have to say: this is the time to heed to what I know. As adults, we do this so that our adolescents are protected and free. They are protected from themselves and the predators of the world. They are free to explore and grow into the adults they are meant to be. This is a difficult task, but one that is crucial. Without adults who are willing to be the ‘bad guy’ and say no when it’s easier to say ‘yes’ young people are lost. When the young become lost, we lose the future.
The problem is not race, although race is part of the picture. The problem is not age, although age is part of the picture. The problem is not grandstanding, although grandstanding is part of the picture. The problem is us. The problem is our community has become stuck in ancient battles, old ways, and irrelevant rhetoric. The problem is we are silent in the face of people who prey on the innocent and hide in the chaos. The problem is me. The problem is you.
This means that the solution must be us.
During the community forums that I have attended over the years, I heard several concerns. Business owners said they worried that the teens interfered with the coming and going of their patrons. Residents said they were frustrated because the teens were noisy and disrupted the peace by congregating on street corners and rough housing well into the early morning hours. Some youth advocates said they felt attacked because Black and Latino teens were being targeted due to racism. These continued debates and strong feelings happen in the context of taboo and blame. There are issues that we do not explore and some of us use accusations to silence and bully people.
One of our biggest taboos is the fact that many LGBTQ teens from the south and west sides of Chicago come to Boystown because they are not safe in their homes and neighborhoods. Indeed, some LGBTQ teens are homeless because their parents threw them out. The youth advocates who say Black and Latino LGBTQ teens are not welcome in Boystown because of racism may very well be correct, but the teens are not welcome in their homes, churches, schools, and neighborhoods because of homophobia either.
In his April 2007 entry for the Chronicle of Higher Education’s ‘News Blog’ Lawrence Biemiller describes the overt homophobia in historically Black colleges that often goes unchallenged. He reports that there are a disproportionately small number of gay student organizations in historically Black colleges due in part to the unwillingness of faculty members to serve as advisers. In addition, since 2004, students at the historically Black Hampton University tried unsuccessfully to get a gay/straight alliance approved by the administration according to Elizabeth A. Perry in her February 2007 article for the Washington Blade.
Black LGBTQ same gender loving people many times see exposing homophobia within their communities as taboo. This means that while White young people often find college to be a safe place to explore their sexuality, Black and Latino who attend historically Black colleges have the opposite experience with scarce support from the adult Black LGBTQ community. Consequently, they are left to navigate hostile social, religious, and educational settings without having space to even name the hostility. They are left to mend from painful experiences without having consistent guidance in how to develop affirming relationships as LGBTQ people. As a result, young Black and Latino LGBTQ people sometimes come to believe that they belong on the fringe of society, and build their lives on that belief.
The National Development and Research Institutes, Inc. in New York released their 2004 abstract of a study by Gwadz MV, Clatts MC, Leonard NR, & Goldsamt L that identified what they called fearful attachment style (one's core beliefs regarding the self and others) in young men who have sex with men (MSM). They connect the fearful attachment style to the increased potential that young MSM will leave the protective systems of family, school, and work and decide to remain and function in risky communities where they are less likely to encounter ‘pro-social peers’ and adults. The writers of this study concluded that young MSM who develop this fearful attachment style are more likely to have been homeless, to have participated in sex work, to use substances daily, to have been involved in the criminal justice system, and to be out of school/work.
This means that young LGBTQ people who ‘come out’ and are consequently abandoned by their families and communities are at greater risk for developing the fearful attachment style and believing that the world is an unsafe place. They are at greater risk for not seeing family, school, church, neighborhood, and work as sources of protection and safety. They are at greater risk for seeing no alternative to joining fringe communities, and they are less likely to develop positive relationships with peers, loved ones, and safe adults. The challenge for the wider adult LGBTQ community as Black and Latino LGBTQ teens emerge toward adulthood is to help them develop identities that are proudly Black and Latino, confidently LGBTQ, and solidly part of mainstream society. Our challenge is to help teens make decisions that will result in them being prepared to enter society as successful doctors, lawyers, teachers, entrepreneurs, parents, ministers, politicians…
As Black and Latino/a LGBTQ adults, we have a choice to make. We can get distracted, yet another summer, by claims of White racism as warm weather and excitement draws teens to Boystown’s nightlife area. Or we can do something different as a community. We can teach with our actions that being LGBTQ means more than turfs, clicks, race, gender, sex, and political affiliation. Being LGBTQ also means doing the difficult work of forming honest relationships with family, friends, peers, colleagues, and yes, perceived enemies. We can spend yet another summer describing why racism is the problem. Or we can show with our actions that a problem is no more than a means to bring people together.
As White LGBTQ adults, we have a choice to make. We can become bogged down, yet another summer, with justifying our need to feel safe and get a good night’s sleep. Or we can do something different as a community. We can teach with our actions that being LGBTQ means more than turfs, clicks, race, gender, sex, and political affiliation. Being LGBTQ also means that we use the resources we have to help create equality, freedom, and safety for everyone. We can spend yet another summer describing why crowds of noisy, strong, boisterous young people are the problem. Or we can show with our actions that a problem is no more than a means to have honest conversation about our needs.
Yes, we have choices to make. We can continue to honor taboos, look for blame, act out of guilt, and treat one another with suspicion. We can continue to see each other as ‘those’ people, and continue to argue about who has the right to make change happen. We can continue the fight about change all while another year passes and the only change we see is in the faces of the people arguing. Another year passes and the only change that happens is more young people are lost to HIV, addiction, or abuse.
Or we can take the opportunity this summer brings to think and talk about what we owe to the future. We can think about the wisdom we have gained through our mistakes and our successes. We can talk about the guidance we could give a young 15 year old, for instance, who is thinking about telling his mother that he’s gay. We can think about the ways we could help him explore some of the effects of coming out before he has to live with the choice he makes. We can talk about how to parent the young people who are already homeless.
Having raised three biological daughters from infancy to adulthood, I know how difficult adolescence can be for both the parent and the child. There are times when, as parents, we need to step back and watch as our children flap their wings in the nest, and there are times when we need to step up and say: this is not the time to fly. There are times when we should heed to what young people want, and there are times when we have to say: this is the time to heed to what I know. As adults, we do this so that our adolescents are protected and free. They are protected from themselves and the predators of the world. They are free to explore and grow into the adults they are meant to be. This is a difficult task, but one that is crucial. Without adults who are willing to be the ‘bad guy’ and say no when it’s easier to say ‘yes’ young people are lost. When the young become lost, we lose the future.
The problem is not race, although race is part of the picture. The problem is not age, although age is part of the picture. The problem is not grandstanding, although grandstanding is part of the picture. The problem is us. The problem is our community has become stuck in ancient battles, old ways, and irrelevant rhetoric. The problem is we are silent in the face of people who prey on the innocent and hide in the chaos. The problem is me. The problem is you.
This means that the solution must be us.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Race, Religion, and Politics in the 21st Century
During the 40th anniversary of the death of Martin Luther King, Jr., we remember the ongoing struggle to end race based oppression in America. In our communities and our religious institutions we celebrate King’s life, mourn his death, and we vow to continue the struggle. Meanwhile, Rev. Jeremiah Wright’s comments, and our reactions to them, are part of the backdrop.
Let us examine Wright’s comments and our reactions to them with more than a simplified black/white understanding. As we remember the change brought about through the civil rights movement, let us look at the position of the Black church in the lives of many today with more than a bottom line good/evil lens. We can use this time of social unrest and political disagreement to develop broader understandings of what it means to be American, what it means to be oppressed, and what it means to hold ourselves, our government, and our institutions accountable.
The unapologetic, racist, anti-Semitic, and anti-American comments of Wright opens a window to American history that many hoped had been closed through the work and sacrifices of activists over the decades. In addition, our reactions to these comments reveal how we tend to look for simplified explanations for the complex challenges that we face today.
Wright is a human being with a set of life experiences and a journey of personal choices. We react to his comments as if he is either a demon against all that is civilized or a deliverer from all that is unjust. Neither is absolutely true, and therein lies the conflict we face. In our assessment of Wright, some of us choose only to see the fact that he led a prosperous congregation that became a positive force in the lives of many. Others of us choose only to see that he has used the pulpit to make racist, intolerant, and unpatriotic comments.
King too, was human with his own set of life experiences and personal choices. We tend only to remember King the prophet who spoke against injustice. We often forget that sometimes King’s actions contradicted his words. While he spoke so eloquently for the end of oppression, he battled with, and ultimately succumbed to, his personal homophobia throughout his relationship with Bayard Rustin. We want to remember King the visionary who lost his life in the fight to end racism. All the while we seem to forget that he did not address the fact that women in the movement were only treated as valuable when they served the agenda of men.
Today, we credit the Black church with starting and fueling the civil rights movement. We forget that many churches would not support King and he was not welcome in many pulpits. What many of us choose to remember and what actually happened during the civil rights movement reveals a dual image of history, the Black church, and the struggle for equality. That duality continues today.
Now, because of Wright’s comments and reactions to them, the perception that the Black church follows two versions of Christianity is becoming prominent. One Christianity is expressed behind closed doors when Black preachers and their congregations express anti-American rhetoric, blame the government for the spread of disease in their communities, and accuse Jewish people of fueling the tensions in the Middle East. The other Christianity is presented to the public when Black preachers and their congregations try to address the spread of HIV in their communities, work to help incarcerated men and women have a successful reentry into society, and attempt to ease illiteracy in Black communities.
This duality extends beyond the church and into the politics of today. Some of us are so anxious to believe that racism no longer exists in America that we will almost blindly support Barack Obama’s bid for the presidential candidacy because he is Black. We ignore the times when he talks around direct questions by raising important issues that affect the quality of our lives. We heave a heavy sigh of relief when we hear him speak about the importance of having conversations about race in this country, and our hopes are raised.
Others of us are so eager to maintain or obtain power and control that we resort to images and attitudes that call to mind the America when slavery was a God-given right, rather than a man-made abomination, Jim Crow was the law of the land rather than the will of the racist, anti-Semitism was the litmus test for all Christian rather than just one more expression of hate, and lynching was a means to maintain control, rather than violent, hate-based murder. The result: our country is divided, yet again, between Black and White. This division comes at a time when most Americans can claim a blend of racial heritages and ethnicities.
We face the most important decision of our generation. We need to decide as individuals and as a country whether we will continue to see color, gender, sexual orientation, and religion when we look at one another, or if we will finally move beyond what has divided us and be an example so that the next generation of Americans will not have to make choices based on imposed social, religious, and physical categories.
It is my hope, as it has been for decades, that we will be able to become free from the shackles of the racial, ethnic, religious, gender, and sexual orientation categories that have served so well to separate all of humanity. We are slaves to our categories of Black, White, Christian, Moslem, Jew… and because of this, our oppressions continue. We all must stop looking for ‘self’ in categories, and start seeing ‘us’ in humanity. We can take this time when half of America is shocked by Wright’s comments and half is relieved to hear them aired, to learn how to see beyond the many categories that we claim and see our common experiences. We can take this time when half of America does not understand how a pastor could speak such language from the pulpit, and half understands completely, to see that oppression touches us all.
Langston Hughes eloquently describes our potential for connection in this excerpt from his poem, Let America be America Again:
“I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart, I am the Negro bearing slavery’s scars. I am the red man driven from the land, I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek—and finding only the same old stupid plan of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak. I am the young man, full of strength and hope, tangled in that ancient endless chain of profit, power, gain, of grab the land! Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need! Of work the men! Of take the pay! Of owning everything for one’s own greed! I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil. I am the worker sold to the machine. I am the Negro servant to you all. I am the people, humble, hungry, mean—hungry yet today despite the dream. Beaten yet today—O Pioneers! I am the man who never got ahead, the poorest worker bartered through the years.”
Until we recognize that we are human, and we have common human experiences, we will never find the unity, peace, and prosperity that we all crave. Until we stop looking for our ‘savior’ the ‘next Martin Luther King’ the iconic ‘leader for change’ and start understanding that each one of us has a choice to make and our choice will determine the direction of our country, we will always find that our next ‘new hope’ is yet another disappointment.
One choice is to continue to magnify the base, degrading, and insulting attitudes of those who are blinded by their hatred by replicating or justifying them. Another choice is to diminish these attitudes by rejecting them, and magnifying the words and actions of those who truly see beyond our divisions. We can follow those who capitalize on the categories that divide us, or we can empower those who envision an America that is indivisible and with justice for all. We can throw down our shackles of race, gender, sexual orientation, ethnicity, and religious affiliation and begin to create true change as we connect with one another through our common human experiences.
Let us examine Wright’s comments and our reactions to them with more than a simplified black/white understanding. As we remember the change brought about through the civil rights movement, let us look at the position of the Black church in the lives of many today with more than a bottom line good/evil lens. We can use this time of social unrest and political disagreement to develop broader understandings of what it means to be American, what it means to be oppressed, and what it means to hold ourselves, our government, and our institutions accountable.
The unapologetic, racist, anti-Semitic, and anti-American comments of Wright opens a window to American history that many hoped had been closed through the work and sacrifices of activists over the decades. In addition, our reactions to these comments reveal how we tend to look for simplified explanations for the complex challenges that we face today.
Wright is a human being with a set of life experiences and a journey of personal choices. We react to his comments as if he is either a demon against all that is civilized or a deliverer from all that is unjust. Neither is absolutely true, and therein lies the conflict we face. In our assessment of Wright, some of us choose only to see the fact that he led a prosperous congregation that became a positive force in the lives of many. Others of us choose only to see that he has used the pulpit to make racist, intolerant, and unpatriotic comments.
King too, was human with his own set of life experiences and personal choices. We tend only to remember King the prophet who spoke against injustice. We often forget that sometimes King’s actions contradicted his words. While he spoke so eloquently for the end of oppression, he battled with, and ultimately succumbed to, his personal homophobia throughout his relationship with Bayard Rustin. We want to remember King the visionary who lost his life in the fight to end racism. All the while we seem to forget that he did not address the fact that women in the movement were only treated as valuable when they served the agenda of men.
Today, we credit the Black church with starting and fueling the civil rights movement. We forget that many churches would not support King and he was not welcome in many pulpits. What many of us choose to remember and what actually happened during the civil rights movement reveals a dual image of history, the Black church, and the struggle for equality. That duality continues today.
Now, because of Wright’s comments and reactions to them, the perception that the Black church follows two versions of Christianity is becoming prominent. One Christianity is expressed behind closed doors when Black preachers and their congregations express anti-American rhetoric, blame the government for the spread of disease in their communities, and accuse Jewish people of fueling the tensions in the Middle East. The other Christianity is presented to the public when Black preachers and their congregations try to address the spread of HIV in their communities, work to help incarcerated men and women have a successful reentry into society, and attempt to ease illiteracy in Black communities.
This duality extends beyond the church and into the politics of today. Some of us are so anxious to believe that racism no longer exists in America that we will almost blindly support Barack Obama’s bid for the presidential candidacy because he is Black. We ignore the times when he talks around direct questions by raising important issues that affect the quality of our lives. We heave a heavy sigh of relief when we hear him speak about the importance of having conversations about race in this country, and our hopes are raised.
Others of us are so eager to maintain or obtain power and control that we resort to images and attitudes that call to mind the America when slavery was a God-given right, rather than a man-made abomination, Jim Crow was the law of the land rather than the will of the racist, anti-Semitism was the litmus test for all Christian rather than just one more expression of hate, and lynching was a means to maintain control, rather than violent, hate-based murder. The result: our country is divided, yet again, between Black and White. This division comes at a time when most Americans can claim a blend of racial heritages and ethnicities.
We face the most important decision of our generation. We need to decide as individuals and as a country whether we will continue to see color, gender, sexual orientation, and religion when we look at one another, or if we will finally move beyond what has divided us and be an example so that the next generation of Americans will not have to make choices based on imposed social, religious, and physical categories.
It is my hope, as it has been for decades, that we will be able to become free from the shackles of the racial, ethnic, religious, gender, and sexual orientation categories that have served so well to separate all of humanity. We are slaves to our categories of Black, White, Christian, Moslem, Jew… and because of this, our oppressions continue. We all must stop looking for ‘self’ in categories, and start seeing ‘us’ in humanity. We can take this time when half of America is shocked by Wright’s comments and half is relieved to hear them aired, to learn how to see beyond the many categories that we claim and see our common experiences. We can take this time when half of America does not understand how a pastor could speak such language from the pulpit, and half understands completely, to see that oppression touches us all.
Langston Hughes eloquently describes our potential for connection in this excerpt from his poem, Let America be America Again:
“I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart, I am the Negro bearing slavery’s scars. I am the red man driven from the land, I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek—and finding only the same old stupid plan of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak. I am the young man, full of strength and hope, tangled in that ancient endless chain of profit, power, gain, of grab the land! Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need! Of work the men! Of take the pay! Of owning everything for one’s own greed! I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil. I am the worker sold to the machine. I am the Negro servant to you all. I am the people, humble, hungry, mean—hungry yet today despite the dream. Beaten yet today—O Pioneers! I am the man who never got ahead, the poorest worker bartered through the years.”
Until we recognize that we are human, and we have common human experiences, we will never find the unity, peace, and prosperity that we all crave. Until we stop looking for our ‘savior’ the ‘next Martin Luther King’ the iconic ‘leader for change’ and start understanding that each one of us has a choice to make and our choice will determine the direction of our country, we will always find that our next ‘new hope’ is yet another disappointment.
One choice is to continue to magnify the base, degrading, and insulting attitudes of those who are blinded by their hatred by replicating or justifying them. Another choice is to diminish these attitudes by rejecting them, and magnifying the words and actions of those who truly see beyond our divisions. We can follow those who capitalize on the categories that divide us, or we can empower those who envision an America that is indivisible and with justice for all. We can throw down our shackles of race, gender, sexual orientation, ethnicity, and religious affiliation and begin to create true change as we connect with one another through our common human experiences.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Stand for World-wide Justice
The increase in the violence and intimidation of gays and lesbians in many African countries reminds me of the terrible brutality committed against Fanny Ann Eddy in Sierra Leone. Eddy was an out lesbian and an activist in her country for gay and lesbian civil rights. In 2002, she founded the Sierra Leone Lesbian and Gay Association.
In 2004, she spoke at the UN’s 60th session on human rights, and gave testimony to the dangers lesbian and gay Africans faced. Later that same year, she was beaten, raped and killed while she was working late in her office. She was targeted because she stood against homophobia.
The Human Rights Watch said Eddy was, “a person of extraordinary bravery and integrity, who literally put her life on the line for human rights.”
Let us all take the example left by Eddy and Stand together against homophobia, misogyny, and oppression regardless of the danger we face. Let us speak out against the corporate sponsorship of hate. Let us not be silent in the face of the religious justification for oppressing lgbt people.
Division and silence are the food of bigots. Power comes with unity.
In 2004, she spoke at the UN’s 60th session on human rights, and gave testimony to the dangers lesbian and gay Africans faced. Later that same year, she was beaten, raped and killed while she was working late in her office. She was targeted because she stood against homophobia.
The Human Rights Watch said Eddy was, “a person of extraordinary bravery and integrity, who literally put her life on the line for human rights.”
Let us all take the example left by Eddy and Stand together against homophobia, misogyny, and oppression regardless of the danger we face. Let us speak out against the corporate sponsorship of hate. Let us not be silent in the face of the religious justification for oppressing lgbt people.
Division and silence are the food of bigots. Power comes with unity.
Morality and Our Politicians
Washington Madam Deborah Jeane Palfrey, accused of running a $2 million prostitution ring, said that Louisiana Senator David Vitter, outspoken politician against gay rights, paid her for sex. Surprised? Male prostitute Mike Jones revealed that Ted Haggard, then prominent preacher against gay rights, paid him for sex. Shocked? Venus Magazine publisher, Charlene E. Cothran declared she was saved from a lesbian lifestyle that she called the gates of hell. Astonished?
If the answers are no, then you recognize moral dishonesty in many leaders. Even more, you recognize moral dishonesty in our country. While America claims to embrace a God-fearing, pro-life morality, the number of women, children, and men killed by violence and abuse rise, one of two marriages ends in divorce, new HIV infections rise, crime, drug abuse, homelessness all rise, political corruption rises, and a prominent religious institution agrees to pay $660 million to the victims of its predatory priests. These are a few of the reasons why we are not surprised when moral dishonesty and shame in leadership are exposed. Why, in a country where freedom is fiercely protected, are so many of us dishonest, ashamed, or afraid?
In Genesis 2:9 of The New Oxford Annotated Bible, we read that the Garden of Eden had a tree of life and a tree of the knowledge of good and evil. God told Adam and Eve that taking food from the tree of knowledge meant death (2:16). Adam and Eve chose to take from this tree (3:6), and immediately became ashamed (3:8) and afraid (3:10b). Today, we face a similar choice. We can choose to take from either the tree of life or the tree of knowledge. The facts that we, like Vitter, Haggard, and Cothran, either live morally dishonest lives, are ashamed of who we are, or afraid to confront homophobia illustrate that we still choose to take from the tree of knowledge.
What would happen if we drew from the tree of life instead? Having the tree of life as a source would mean that we focus on the universal needs that connect us rather than the special interests that divide us. We would address problems based on the understanding that everyone needs to be safe and is concerned for the wellbeing of their loved ones. Choosing the tree of life would mean that we look for the gifts in each individual and include those gifts in the work of deconstructing what divides us.
Just as Adam and Eve, the choice is ours. We can find more ways to dominate, hurt and abandon one another. We can further weaken our societies by developing more division. We can keep taking from the tree of knowledge. At the same time, we can overcome oppression, heal hurt, and create authentic inclusion. We can become strong in our unity, and strengthen our communities using life-promoting assumptions. We can choose to take from the tree of life and begin to live morally honest lives free from fear and shame.
If the answers are no, then you recognize moral dishonesty in many leaders. Even more, you recognize moral dishonesty in our country. While America claims to embrace a God-fearing, pro-life morality, the number of women, children, and men killed by violence and abuse rise, one of two marriages ends in divorce, new HIV infections rise, crime, drug abuse, homelessness all rise, political corruption rises, and a prominent religious institution agrees to pay $660 million to the victims of its predatory priests. These are a few of the reasons why we are not surprised when moral dishonesty and shame in leadership are exposed. Why, in a country where freedom is fiercely protected, are so many of us dishonest, ashamed, or afraid?
In Genesis 2:9 of The New Oxford Annotated Bible, we read that the Garden of Eden had a tree of life and a tree of the knowledge of good and evil. God told Adam and Eve that taking food from the tree of knowledge meant death (2:16). Adam and Eve chose to take from this tree (3:6), and immediately became ashamed (3:8) and afraid (3:10b). Today, we face a similar choice. We can choose to take from either the tree of life or the tree of knowledge. The facts that we, like Vitter, Haggard, and Cothran, either live morally dishonest lives, are ashamed of who we are, or afraid to confront homophobia illustrate that we still choose to take from the tree of knowledge.
What would happen if we drew from the tree of life instead? Having the tree of life as a source would mean that we focus on the universal needs that connect us rather than the special interests that divide us. We would address problems based on the understanding that everyone needs to be safe and is concerned for the wellbeing of their loved ones. Choosing the tree of life would mean that we look for the gifts in each individual and include those gifts in the work of deconstructing what divides us.
Just as Adam and Eve, the choice is ours. We can find more ways to dominate, hurt and abandon one another. We can further weaken our societies by developing more division. We can keep taking from the tree of knowledge. At the same time, we can overcome oppression, heal hurt, and create authentic inclusion. We can become strong in our unity, and strengthen our communities using life-promoting assumptions. We can choose to take from the tree of life and begin to live morally honest lives free from fear and shame.
Why I Support Hillary Clinton
Senator Clinton has consistently demonstrated her commitment to justice and equality for everyone with her words and actions, and that is why I voted for her in the IL primary and will vote for her when she wins the nomination.
I can give two specific examples of how clear Senator Clinton is when it comes to justice and equality for everyone.
First, during her appearance on the Tyra Banks show, Senator Clinton said, with the conviction that I have not heard from any other politician, that when she is president, she will use all her power to ensure that lgbt couples and their families have the same legal protections as straight.
Second, while I attended the annual gala for Equality Illinois this month, both Senator Obama and Senator Clinton sent written statements to the lgbt community. Equality Illinois has a long and successful history of working to ensure that the rights of lgbt people are recognized and protected under Illinois law.
The statement sent by Obama can be summarized this way: you are working for your rights, good for you. You are demanding that you have equality under the law, and you deserve this. I think that it’s a good thing that you are celebrating your accomplishments.
The statement sent by Clinton can be summarized this way: I am with you, and support your work for equality. When I am president, I will rescind the ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy which is wrong. When I am president, I will ensure that you and your families have the protection that all Americans have a right to expect and have.
Obama is full when it comes to rhetoric, sermons, and empty phrases that most people would not oppose. He is empty when it comes to action and taking a real stand for justice and equality for all.
Clinton may not be able to preach, but I really don’t want a preacher in the White House. I have seen her take on unpopular positions solely because it is the right thing to do. Instead of using lovely and inspiring descriptions of justice, she uses her position, clout, and influence to work to establish justice. That is the president I will claim as a private citizen of the United States of America.
I can give two specific examples of how clear Senator Clinton is when it comes to justice and equality for everyone.
First, during her appearance on the Tyra Banks show, Senator Clinton said, with the conviction that I have not heard from any other politician, that when she is president, she will use all her power to ensure that lgbt couples and their families have the same legal protections as straight.
Second, while I attended the annual gala for Equality Illinois this month, both Senator Obama and Senator Clinton sent written statements to the lgbt community. Equality Illinois has a long and successful history of working to ensure that the rights of lgbt people are recognized and protected under Illinois law.
The statement sent by Obama can be summarized this way: you are working for your rights, good for you. You are demanding that you have equality under the law, and you deserve this. I think that it’s a good thing that you are celebrating your accomplishments.
The statement sent by Clinton can be summarized this way: I am with you, and support your work for equality. When I am president, I will rescind the ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy which is wrong. When I am president, I will ensure that you and your families have the protection that all Americans have a right to expect and have.
Obama is full when it comes to rhetoric, sermons, and empty phrases that most people would not oppose. He is empty when it comes to action and taking a real stand for justice and equality for all.
Clinton may not be able to preach, but I really don’t want a preacher in the White House. I have seen her take on unpopular positions solely because it is the right thing to do. Instead of using lovely and inspiring descriptions of justice, she uses her position, clout, and influence to work to establish justice. That is the president I will claim as a private citizen of the United States of America.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
The Importance of Communication
The following video is an example of the fact that we all need to find ways to talk about difficult topics.
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