The new kid.

This morning, amidst the whirlwind of breakfast eating, uniform ironing and snack organising, it hit me that it was my son’s last day before the summer; the milestone last day of Primary 1. It seems no time at all since last summer which I spent panicking over uniform sizes and the perfect schoolbag and I lost sleep worrying how he would settle in. He was nervous too, who would he play with and where would he eat lunch? Walking through the school gates that first morning he certainly looked the part- from his neatly combed curls down to those uncomfortable but smart black shoes (you know the ones) yet I knew he was feeling those first day nerves that I’m sure we can all relate to. When I read in Ben Lindsay’s book ‘We Need to Talk About Race’ that being a black church member in a white majority church can feel like being the new person on repeat, the metaphor really hit home for me as a white Christian in a white majority church. We are not loving our black brothers and sisters well when they feel like that. I think we (white Christians) underestimate the mental toll that being black in a white majority church can take and starting by engaging with the conversation on racism we can make our churches look more like a picture from heaven.

Racism needs taken out at the root, rather than focusing just on the visible weeds of overt racism. How do we do that when even talking about racism makes us squirm? I want us to briefly begin to unpack why it’s difficult to talk about racism so that we can get comfortable engaging with it; looking at the roots to remove the whole weed.

There are 3 big reasons racism is avoided in church conversations. Let’s have a look at them and unpack why they shouldn’t stop the conversations.

1. Racism doesn’t exist here in 2021. Many people think that racism died out when slavery was abolished. Laws changed, but mindsets didn’t necessarily follow because white people didn’t go from thinking of black people as less human to equally human overnight- highlighted by the fact that slavery was still legal for 27 years after the Transatlantic Slave Trade was abolished. A relatively recent example of attitudes towards black people can be seen in the treatment of people who came to the UK from the Caribbean between 1948-1973, known as the Windrush Generation. This generation of people, invited here to help rebuild Britain after the WW2, instead of finding welcome on arrival, were met with racist abuse not only from the church but most other areas of society. This developed as time went on, and the UK’s “hostile environment” immigration policy led to many being wrongly classified as illegal immigrants and deported to a country they hadn’t seen since they were children. It is affecting children and grandchildren who can’t get British passports even now despite being born and raised here. It might be difficult to see racism when it isn’t affecting our lives as white people, but it’s important for us to recognise that racism is thriving in Britain today.
2. Anti-racism work is antithetical to Christianity. When the loudest anti-racism voices are not Christian voices it is easy to connect anti-racism work and anti-Christian beliefs, but I think this shows a big misunderstanding. The work of organisations like Black Lives Matter shouldn’t be confused with the phrase “black lives matter”, for example, and people in support of the idea that black lives matter as much as every other life are not necessarily supporting the organisation with the same name. Critical Race Theory was developed because of people wanting answers as to why the changes in laws didn’t equalise treatment of black and white people in society. There are parts of CRT that are don’t seem compatible with the Christian worldview, but the church in general isn’t presenting the alternative that we have in our God of justice. We were all made in the image of God and are equally loved by him, but when we stay quiet about (or loudly deny) racism we can see why people look for answers elsewhere. If Christians were the loudest anti-racist voices, pointing people to God-given value of human life instead of getting bogged down in distractions and missing the point then things would radically change.
3. Racism is a problem out there *points to anywhere outside the church* and nothing to do with us. We, white Christians, are often shocked when we hear about racism. Sin doesn’t surprise us, so the reality of sin shown in racism shouldn’t be shocking to us. We tend to distance ourselves from racism in an individualistic “I don’t see colour” type of ideology which clashes with the idea of communal racist systems but even if we have never committed a hate crime, black people face hurdles we might never have even considered- this is how we passively benefit from racism. Hurdles in church can look like coping with microaggressions from church family, people from African countries not being held in the same regard as people from here, learning from mainly white theologians, seeing Jesus and other Bible characters only depicted as white, and much more. Even if we don’t understand how certain microaggressions are racist, we have to humbly defer to our black brothers and sisters who are telling us they are because they have much more knowledge and experience than we have.  

The idea of people regularly coming to church with first day feelings should grieve us. We should use this lament as a catalyst for the change that can bring about reconciliation between people of different races, not on a surface level but down at the root. We have the ultimate hope that all things will be reconciled through Christ, and injustices on earth will be made right when he comes again; this solid hope means that we can have these difficult conversations and push towards bringing heavenly unity here on earth. St Augustine of Hippo said this:

“Hope has two beautiful daughters; their names are Anger and Courage. Anger at the way things are, and Courage to see that they do not remain as they are.”

Imagine the church coming together, in anger and courage, to live out the hope we have in Christ. That’s why it is essential for Christians to engage with the conversation on racism. What a beautiful picture!

No kneeling please, we’re football fans.

Footballers taking the knee in protest against racism have received boos from their “fans”. I can’t get my head around it, even if you’re a loud and proud racist why would you boo your own team before they play a match- do these people think that will help their team win?! Cries of being against the “Marxist BLM” are showing people’s ignorance, taking the knee was not started by this organisation. As English speakers we recognise that words can have different meanings depending on their context so surely we can understand that an organisation with the phrase black lives matter as their name can be separate from that phrase. The players have, repeatedly, talked about their stance of anti-racism and that this is what they take the knee for. People will choose to misunderstand that in order to protect their racism.

Throughout history there have been “reasons” for white people to disengage and challenge any anti-racism movements, and (one of) the current one seems to be this stance of being against the BLM organisation. It is entirely possible to believe that black lives matter without being in support of the BLM organisation, my stance is very much in supporting the value of black lives rather than showing allegiance to an organisation.

Taking the knee is not the same as real action, and I’d prefer to see proper action taken against the racism that is rife in football (and elsewhere!) but I support the players as they make this protest because they are keeping the conversation going while the fans who boo are showing the necessity of anti-racism work. My 5 year old is a budding footballer (I *might* be a teeny bit biased but in my opinion he’s the absolute best) and is mixed race. I passionately want to prevent him from playing in matches where racial slurs are acceptable, fans doing monkey chants in the crowd receive next to no pushback and racist social media threats are ignored.

To say that footballers should “stick to football” is a nonsense. These players have a huge following and with that comes a responsibility. We listen to opinions from people that are outwith the realm of their job title all the time! We have been happy to let Marcus Rashford use his position to feed children during the pandemic, so how can we then not support players taking action against the racism that he and so many of the black players face? When Naomi Osaka wanted to simply stick to tennis she was slated for not doing press. People are happy to allow folk to move lanes when it suits, but when it comes to challenging racism in the status quo these same people will kick up a fuss that they are to “stay in their lane”. If there was no racism in football then no knee would be taken in protest, isn’t aiming for that a better strategy than having people boo their own teams?

The pride with which my son wears his team strip is brilliant to see; he really values his team. I hope that when he is older racism in football will be counted as history, but if it is still a reality (as I suspect will be the case) I hope that the white players in his team will be as willing to see his value too.

“Sturdy” isn’t a compliment, and other lessons from marriage.

“Is something wrong?” he asked tentatively.

“No. I’m fine.” I uttered, knowing the words were a lie as soon as they escaped my mouth. By the look on his face I could tell he recognised the lie too (anyone who’s ever met a woman could probably realise that “I’m fine” should set alarm bells ringing!).

He didn’t even realise his mistake. On describing my legs as “sturdy” (I’ll pause while you gasp and wince), he thought he was paying me a compliment. In all the RomCom-esque romantic scenarios I’ve ever envisaged for myself, the describing of my legs as “sturdy” hadn’t come into the picture. I haven’t read about any beautiful women in the magazines being called sturdy and at the gym they definitely are not pitching their goal as to be sturdy. Sturdiness, by western beauty standards, is not something a woman should aspire to. However, in Nigeria (where my husband is originally from) sturdiness is a desirable quality, as I found out when he told me that if I was skinny he wouldn’t fancy me. Another romantic complement 😉.

Anyone who has ever heard a woman say “I’m fine” understands that she is not, in fact, fine- we’ve all been there, right? Miscommunication is part of human life (I wrote about communication in my last post, go and have a wee look if you’re interested), and as a couple who were born into two very different cultures, my husband and I are very well acquainted with this now. 

Just now we are seeing many of the younger generation leaving the church and it has me wondering; are we miscommunicating the gospel? 

Could it be that we are clearly communicating the truths of gospel-hope, when in actuality we are hiding these truths underneath judgement and hypocrisy?  I saw a quote from Rich Villodas recently that said: 

“It really is a curious evangelism strategy to despise the people you are trying to convert to Jesus.”

Are we showing hate where we should be showing love?

To take it further, I wonder if the gaps in where we show love have become so open that other “religions” are filling the space. I find that in conversations on racism, Christians can be quick to disengage on the basis that CRT and the BLM movement are Marxist and unchristian. These theories and organisations came about because people could see a gap in what the church was teaching. While the Bible shows a fuller picture of God and his plan for reconciliation, Christian churches want reconciliation without addressing the injustice. Enter CRT, filling the gap in the market. If we act out the gospel, and fulfil the commandment to love our neighbour then our young people won’t be swayed from the church- they won’t need to be because they will have a firm foundation in Biblical truth.

Having a firm foundation means that we can discuss questions people might have without dismissing them. For example, calling anti-racists “divisive” and “woke” is antithetical to the the reconciliation that anti-racism is striving for, and if everyone comes to the conversation as Christian equals then it will be a far more productive (& loving!) conversation. Often terms are used with different meanings for each listener which shows us the importance of clear communication, so it is worth checking what the other person means by a specific term or phrase. Questions help us clarify and understand things more deeply so we shouldn’t shy away from them. We also shouldn’t be so focused on what our point is that we forget to listen to answers that are given.

In my marriage, miscommunication is common. We even miscommunicate about how to deal best with miscommunication, it’s a whole cycle! I process in my head, needing quiet and space, whereas my husband processes out loud, needing talk and togetherness. We have learned to compromise by appreciating that generally one of us is more vulnerable in any particular situation or disagreement; when it’s me we have some space to process, and when it’s him we talk it through together. This isn’t a perfect process, and we’re rubbish at it sometimes- I still say I’m fine when I’m actually seething and sometimes he compliments me in an entirely offensive way, but when we come to appreciate the reality of miscommunications we can handle it more effectively. (Though I wish we had handled the rubbish compliments a bit more before having children. My son told my mum that her cake was “actually quite nice” last weekend and while Abe thought he was showing gratitude for tasty treats I was mortified at the implication that every other cake has been awful but these were surprisingly good…) 

I think churches could be more welcoming of thoughtful discussion, with a variety of voices in order to facilitate reconciliation. If we didn’t shy away from tricky topics but, through considering what the Bible says as well as experts in the areas, had open discussions and finding common ground then we could encourage gospel hope-fuelled action and see glimpses of “on earth as in heaven”.

(also to note: For many issues the problem is less about miscommunication and more about disagreement, but even then communicating well is a really important part of disagreeing well and disagreeing well is something we could all do with improving on, and I think that’s a topic for another day!)

which of these checklists are we following?

No race-card please, we’re British.

Along with 11 million other Brits, last night I got myself a cuppa and settled in to watch The Interview with Harry and Meghan. I wasn’t surprised by much of what they said (partly because we’ve seen it play out these past years and partly because it had been all over the news since airing the day before in the States) and I’m not sure the paper’s claims that it was “explosive” really hold, but it was pretty harrowing to hear their thoughts and experiences. 

The most explosive thing, in my opinion, has been public opinion surrounding the interview. From the news to the social media comments sections to an article shared by a prominent Christian organisation and everywhere in between, it was largely brutal, lacking humanity and totally bonkers. Here’s another voice to add to the noise, with my 2 pennies worth.

Harry and Meghan, whatever your (or my) personal opinion is, stood firm in their boundary against racism. As white people, we all to often assign ourselves the role of judging of what racism looks and feels like- we will never experience it so frankly we are not best placed to make that call. It can’t be a case of “agree to disagree” when only one side is really affected by the issue. To experience racism is traumatic, to then go through the ordeal of talking about the trauma and be met with whataboutism and claims of “that’s not racist” must be crushing. It is no surprise that Meghan’s mental health has taken a total battering. Let’s tread carefully, instead of trampling people when they share an experience. 

Lots of black and brown people, whose experience of racism mirrors Meghan’s, will see how people are reacting to her speaking out and it will affect them going forward. The same goes for anyone who is suffering from a mental illness. Not being believed is one of the main reasons so many suffer in silence. 

What does anyone gain from being open about experiences of racism? I don’t have much in common with Prince Harry (I know, this comes as a great surprise!) but I do share the experience of doing life with someone who’s life has been changed by racism. One of the things I’ve learned through seeing racism up close is this: the “race card” doesn’t exist. I’ll say it again for those in the back- it does not exist. It’s a commonly used phrase by white people to stop someone talking about racism, as if there’s some free-pass that black people get if they show their race card. The reality is no free-pass, no “ding ding ding”, no prize. There are no immediate benefits to speaking out against racism, in fact it almost always comes at a cost to the person speaking out. When a person speaks out about their experiences of racism, they generally have the aim of making the world safer and better for other black and brown people; the bigger picture. I’m grateful for those with that aim, the aim that would make the world a better place for my family.

We don’t have to agree with every choice Harry and Meghan have made, or the Royal family. I don’t know anyone who agrees with every choice I’ve made- there have been a few belters no doubt. We don’t have to care about The Interview either, but we should care about the very real issues highlighted and be aware that how we respond matters.

Hope in a world that groans

As we clumsily stumble through December it is hard to not feel a bit lost and overwhelmed. Since March we have seen lockdowns happening globally, poverty in our local areas soaring, a racial justice movement, natural disasters and the environmental crisis, terrorism… so much devastation. The novelty of distractions in the form of zoom quizzes has worn off and to be honest, I just don’t fancy making yet another banana loaf.

In these seemingly hopeless times of overwhelm I have found myself asking: does God even care?

It often happens that we misplace our hope in something that changes with the seasons of life- putting our hope in a job, or in our friendships, our children, our spouse, our leaders. I’ve struggled with the tension that comes from fully trusting in Jesus as my saviour, and at the same time fully seeing that this world is broken. My secondary experience of racial injustice has had me questioning how Jesus is relevant to the fight against racial injustice, a fight that is very close to home.

This year has shaken up a lot of the usual sources of hope; with lockdowns removing childcare options and forcing us into closer quarters than usual or the loneliness that comes with living in isolation, job losses, health worries, global leadership concerns. Our hope will be in something, so if it is in something fallible, we can feel totally hopeless. Can we put our hope in Jesus?

Racial injustice isn’t a new issue to us as a family, particularly to my husband. He’s the black half of our mixed-race marriage, our Afro-Celtic clan. Issues that I naively thought were distant historical learning curves have been shown time and again as current realities. This year we have seen the world talk about racial justice in a way that has happened before, but not in my lifetime. The hope felt in the wake of the devastating murder of George Floyd was incredible, and my black family and friends spoke more about hope than I had ever heard prior to that. Getting lost in that hope, however, led to disappointment when the buzz inevitably died down, when the churches largely stayed silent, when overt racism became louder and more emboldened.

Looking to see what Jesus says about racial justice and God’s plan for his creation instead can fill us with that hope that we are searching for. Seeing how integral justice is to the gospel; stories of overcoming injustice interwoven throughout the Bible culminating in a saviour who paid the price in order that we can be justified before God is the perfect reminder that Jesus does actually care. In fact, he fully felt the weight of injustice, treated as unjustly as a person could be. It gives me the much-needed perspective to realise the difference between secure hope of knowing he cares for creation and a wavering worldly wish for injustice to cease.

There is a picture created in a letter to the early church in Rome that I really love. It speaks about God’s creation groaning as if with labour pains. Labour pains are agonising (seriously!) but they are not futile. All that powered me through that first labour was thinking of the child I would get to hold at the end. Compare those pains to the pains of a migraine, for example, and the difference is striking. A migraine is fruitless, no rewards wait at the end. If the letter read that we were groaning as if with the pains of a migraine, then the Gospel story would feel very differently wouldn’t it? God not only cares but understands our pain and points us back to himself as our longed-for security. During this overwhelming year we can groan with the injustices of the world, of which there are so many, safe in the knowledge that our hope is secure when it is placed in the God who cares.

A(nother) post about racism.

Here I am, writing another post about racism. I’m still not entirely sure if it’s ok for me to write about racism, what with me being white and all. I recognise that I have white privilege, and it’s hard to write about racism from that vantage point. I don’t experience racism personally, and I don’t know how it feels to have grown up on the flip side of white privilege. I am learning and processing, and this post will show you that I am very much on the beginner’s trail here. I’m sure to anyone reading who has lived experience of racism, this example will show how naive I’ve been because it has shocked me so much.

Our nephew had a horrible experience on the bus yesterday, his ticket was taken and thrown away by the driver who claimed he wasn’t entitled to a child’s ticket (for under 16s. He’s 15) This escalated into a huge scene where the driver became aggressive, towards a 15 year old boy travelling alone, with no extra money for another ticket and in freezing temperatures where he couldn’t walk the just-over 4 miles home. I have to question whether this would have escalated this way if he had been white. I’m not alone in this, one other passenger from the bus (who had offered to pay an adult fare for my nephew, but the driver refused this offer) stayed with him until his mum could come and offered herself as a witness as she also felt it was a racist incident.

I am angry. More angry than I’ve been in a long time. This incident may well stay with our nephew his whole life. He is at the stage where experiences are shaping who he is and who he will be in the future. His mum shouldn’t be worrying that he’s now at an age that she will need to worry about him doing simple things like going to the dentist, because his race and age make him a target for this type of thing. After seeing mums in the States being interviewed and talking about their fears for their black sons and husbands we are grateful that we don’t have to have the same fears over guns, but this same mentality is here. In the UK. In 2017.

Why is this happening? Why did only one person on that bus go to his aid? What would I have done? I am a total confrontation-phobe. I hate a scene, especially in public, and I know that when I’m on the bus I tend to be in my own wee world. I understand that we can’t all dive into every situation and assume racism, and I also know that it is likely that there are lots of over 16s who try to pass for under in order to get a child’s fare on the bus. Even taking that into considersation, I think its unacceptable that people watched this escalate and did nothing. If it happened to our nephew then it must have happened/be happening to others. We all have a responsibility to stand up against racism.

I’m venting, I’m frustrated. But I’m not wrong. Racism influences attitudes everywhere, and that won’t disappear on its own. I don’t want to be a mum who has to worry about how people treat her son every day, I don’t want to feel grateful that at least our police don’t carry guns, I don’t want to see people treated as less because of the colour of their skin, I don’t want to hear people tell me that racism doesn’t exist in this day and age or that it isn’t as bad as it used to be so I should be grateful for that. I want to play my part in making change.

We need to listen to people who have these experiences of racism, and not assume that they are an “angry black person”. Victim-blaming is rife, with the issue of race but also in rape-culture and lots of other issues. This stops people reporting these incidents. We need to listen. We need to look at our own behaviours and tackle issues there. We need to practice empathy, imagine it was your son who was treated like that on the bus (/insert any other scenario here) Imagine it was you. We need to speak out when we see racism happening (or any other injustice). We need to educate ourselves on the issue of racism. It is happening, everywhere, now. We need to realise this in order to stand up against it. I know that I often feel unable to talk about racism, because I am white. But in the same way that we need men to also push for gender equality, we need people of all races to talk about and stand up against racism. We all have a voice. We need to use it.