White Fragility vs. White Shame

That phrase: white fragility. For a white liberal dude like me, it cuts to the quick. Shields up! Engage defensive counter-attack!

Here’s the deal though. White fragility exists, and it is toxic. When a person of color declares that black lives matter, white fragility insists that all lives matter. When a person of color makes a statement about the murderous abuse of power of a police officer, white fragility insists that blue lives matter, most cops are not like that, etc. A response given from a place of white fragility silences the messenger and the message that we need so desperately to hear and absorb.

Here’s my opinion: white fragility keeps white people from going through an honestly painful but necessary phase toward wholeness and racial reconciliation. This necessary phase is the inner work one must do in order to get past the fragility and the defensiveness and the toxicity. To put it simply, we need to identify and address our white shame.

Don’t misunderstand. I am not advocating that we combat this shame with denial or uplifting pop psychology. Quite the opposite. It requires courage, clear eyes, open ears, and a commitment to change. Dragons don’t go away; they must be slain.

Brene Brown, a Ph.D. and an extensive researcher on shame, has said that one can’t talk about privilege without talking about shame. Most human beings have some measure of privilege, but white people in North America and Europe are born with a lot of it. White privilege and shame are similar in this important way: we have white privilege and we have shame not a result of something we’ve done. In a sense, shame is the shadow-side of privilege.

In its most negative usage, shame is associated with wrong that has been done to us. We feel shame because we’ve been abused, neglected, mocked, or otherwise traumatized. This kind of a shame is only a distant relation to white shame (or any shame borne of privilege), but it does help shed light on why it stings and why it must be overcome.

When we get defensive about someone calling out injustice and respond accordingly, we are denying our shame and surrendering to white fragility. We close our ears and harden our hearts. Interestingly, Brown’s extensive research has shown that this type of response is the opposite of what is needed in order to overcome shame.

What is required is vulnerability.

It means stopping a minute and feeling whatever it is you are feeling. It means taking in the horror of the murder of a fellow human being. It means reaching for empathy. It mean facing the injustice of it all and truly and bitterly mourning its reality. And yes, it means feeling culpability for being white. Notice: the fact that you are white does not mean you are culpable in the death of black men and women. But until you admit the shame exists, you’ll never get past it. You’ll be stuck in a shame cycle, incapable of nothing but navel-gazing.

Also? I can’t stress enough that I believe this is a (necessary) phase on the journey to wholeness and racial reconciliation, but not somewhere to dwell. And like the hero’s journey, it’s often one we have to walk alone. We can’t rely on people of color to educate us, to tell us “you’re one of the good guys!” and to comfort us when we’re in the midst of our inner work. They are too busy trying to navigate a hostile world. The sooner we can abandon our coping mechanism of white fragility and courageously face our shame, the sooner we can effectively join the effort to end systemic racism.

Hate

In 2016 I will be 43 years old. Come November, I will vote for President of the United States for the 7th time in my life. (I have a 4-2 record, with a 4-election winning streak. Yes I voted for Bush twice and for Obama twice. Some might say I’m 3-3, but that’s not the point of this post.)

Hard data and a scrupulous, thorough study of American history would probably tell us that the divisiveness currently plaguing our political system and electorate is not new, nor worse than it’s ever been. However, with age, and with the onslaught of traditional and social media, it certainly feels like rage, fury, and hatred toward political opponents, methodologies, and world-views are at an all-time high.

As a progressive, I absolutely loathe the candidates who are running on the Republican side. Trump and Cruz, the current front-runners, make me wistfully nostalgic for John McCain (minus Sarah Palin), Mitt Romney, and even George W. Bush (minus Dick Cheney).

Loathe is really another word for hate. I find myself hating these people. In fact, I find myself feeling hatred for not just right-wing politicians, but also:

• Outspoken same-sex marriage opponents, like Kim Davis and the Oregon bakers
• Radicalized left-wing Marxist Christians who have a strong and vocal critique-heavy community on Twitter
• Strong pro-gun proponents such as the NRA and much of Congress
• LGBTQ activists who doggedly police language and are cruelly intolerant of would-be allies who truly want to learn and grow
• People who denounce the Black Lives Matter movement and call it “racist”
• Black Lives Matter activists who label all those who don’t subscribe to their tactics and ideology as “white supremacists”
• Young, affluent, attractive, privileged A-list gay white males who dismiss women, people of color, and the less attractive
• The New Atheists
• Anyone in social media who is stubborn, arrogant, unkind, and lacks empathy and critical thinking skills

I could go on, but you get the idea: I carry a lot of hate. It is way, WAY too much for me to carry. I find myself being consumed by feelings of fury and helplessness. The only thing positive I can say about this is that I’ve never been tempted to act out any of these hateful feelings in a violent way. But you know what? If something doesn’t change soon, who’s to say that violence will still be off the table?

It’s a terrifying thought.

This year, I’m going to do something about. I resolve to rid myself of hate.

I will not hate Donald Trump. I will not hate Ted Cruz. I will not hate Kim Davis. I will not hate Suey Park. I will not hate Wayne LaPierre. I will not hate Richard Dawkins. I will not hate _________________. Fill in the blank.

I can’t do it anymore. I don’t like being an unsafe, unpleasant, unkind person. And honestly, I don't have the energy.

Filters That Distort

PLEASE NOTE:

This post is a very personal reflection on depression, spiritual abuse, and filters through which we process information and interactions with others. It is not a critique of how people engage online or in person, nor of anyone else's spiritual journey, theology, or behaviors. My experiences should not be universalized and should not be used in an attempt to silence or critique others.

I’ve been feeling really depressed lately.

Oh GREAT! Another blog post talking about depression. Another crybaby looking for sympathy. Another white dudebro complaining about how hard life is for him. BOO HOO. WANK WANK.

Be that as it may, if I can’t be honest and vulnerable about my own personal and spiritual journey, what’s the point writing and sharing anything at all?

You don’t get it though: your pain doesn’t matter. Jesus doesn’t love YOU; you are too privileged. He came to save those who are oppressed, not those who already have easy access to power. Sure, you may be gay, but let’s be honest. In terms of oppression, white gay men are the least oppressed of all oppressed groups. Hell, straight white women are more oppressed than gay white men. So fuck you and your "pain."

Why I do tell myself these things? Why do I filter every direct criticism—and every criticism toward anyone that looks like me—into a criticism of my worth as a human being? Why am I so threatened, personally, by even indirect criticism?

Because you are used to being coddled in society as a white male, and any threat to your power means that you will feel threatened. Embrace the discomfort, you asshole.

I actually think that is true. But I think there are two other reasons at play; for me, anyway.

The first reason is that I suffer from depression. I hate to admit it, because it sounds like an excuse. But it’s true. I’ve been taking medication for depression for over 20 years. I now take two separate pills for depression and another pill for anxiety. I’ve experimented with not taking the pills, and the results have been bad. Physically, it feels like a thick, heavy sludge of hopelessness.

Even when I take the medication daily, the heavy sludge comes and goes. When it comes, I don’t know how to get rid of it except to just wait it out. The sludge is sitting there right now.

OK fine, you’re depressed. So are people who have had to struggle against so much more than YOU. People who don’t have access to healthcare like you do. People who have no supportive family or friends to help them through. You don’t get a cookie for admitting your mental illness. Shut up about your own problems and get to work in the Kingdom of God, you piece of shit.

The second reason is that I’ve suffered years of subtle spiritual abuse. Now, to be clear, I have a loving family who never, ever abused me spiritually, physically, mentally, sexually, or otherwise. Spiritual abuse occured because of the systems in which I grew up—the Christian churches and schools and universities and workplaces. I heard the message loud and clear: you are not OK. I heard and internalized this message even before I knew I was gay.

To make things more complicated, I was both blessed and cursed with an especially keen sense of what other people wanted. This awareness became my coping mechanism. Using this awareness, I shaped my thoughts and actions to match up to what I thought was expected of me. I was a quick learner. The more I got the affirmation, the more I craved it. I was more “OK” when I received that affirmation, so I molded my thoughts and actions to match up to those who were willing to give the affirmation.

Coming out was the most subversive and courageous thing I’ve ever done in my life, because it went against every coping instinct I had. It opened the door to a journey of healing and wholeness. That journey is taking me to a place where being OK, despite criticism and non-affirmation, is possible. It’s allowing me to dive deeper and find my true self, instead of hiding behind the masks that I manufactured according to others’ specifications.

Unfortunately, I’m far from there. I’m still coping. I’m still manufacturing masks. I’m still threatened by criticism.

Of course you are. Another idiot male threatened by criticism. You’re just using these arguments to garner pity for yourself. But you know what? You don’t deserve pity. You don’t deserve being loved and affirmed. White men are loved and affirmed every day for merely existing. Just shut the hell up.

And I’m still haunted by voices. Today, though, as I try to make sense of and integrate a Christianity that is focused on social justice, the voices use different words. They have different priorities and expectations. Unfortunately, the voices still sound the same—and the thick, heavy sludge is still there.

I know these aren’t the real voices. The voices I hear and the things I read are filtered through my experience, my pain, and—yes—my mental illness. I understand this from a cognitive distance. It doesn’t help the way I feel. And at this point, I don’t know what to do about it.

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Crushed by Sin

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Like other white Americans, the murder of Michael Brown in Ferguson shocked and angered me. It then reminded me of past injustices, left me feeling and acting defensively, and finally left me broken.

1. I was shocked that an unarmed man was shot and killed.
2. I was angered that such injustice and violence continue to happen against people of color.
3. I was reminded that this type of violence and oppression is a devastating reality of U.S. history.
4. I became defensive—how could I be responsible for sins of the past? Why are people of color angry at me and others who are only trying to help?
5. I was left broken, feeling cursed with the "sins of the fathers, visited upon the third and fourth generation." Intentional or not, I participate in this oppression in ways I’m only now beginning to understand.

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This morning, my brother-in-law and I were discussing the concept of "sin." He mentioned how sin in the Bible is almost always characterized by a path--a path to destruction--rather than specific actions. Jesus, in contrast, is described as the path of Life, or simply The Way. Repentance from sin is a turning away from that path of destruction to The Way of Life.

Framing sin and repentance in this way, the concept of sin becomes so much more apparent and real. Somehow, white-centered Western Christianity became obsessed with individual "sins" and behavior modification. The fight against sin has been waged against flesh and blood, rather than what Paul describes in Galatians 6:12 as "principalities and powers."

When it comes to racial inequality, it makes sense when the Bible talks about the inevitability of sin ("for all have sinned")--both sinners and the sinned against. This helplessness against sin also makes sense when we realize that we live with the consequences, namely the "principalities and powers" that were constructed before we were born. But, as the Bible teaches, it doesn't make us any less guilty. Thus: sin truly is a curse.

The concept of sin being passed down is also illuminated in the Genesis creation myth. The writer of Genesis provides a metaphor for a sin committed in the past, dooming not only the ones who commit the sin, but also all of their descendants. The theological tradition that I absorbed was one of sin being passed down individual to individual, almost like a genetic trait. However, I now view sin as inherited oppressive societal structures, which are solidified by each generation that continues to ignore it.

At this realization, how can we not help but feel powerless? How can we not help but feel crushed by the weight of the sin of past generations, not to mention the sin that is perpetuated daily by its denial? How can we not feel crushed by our own intentional and unintentional participation? No wonder the origin of sin in the Bible is said to be a serpent—a wily creature that confounds and deceives.

I share these personal epiphanies about sin with you, not because I am the first person to come up with these ideas. (Far from it!) I share this with you because it is where I find myself: broken and unable to fix the problem. For me, it is the time for mourning, sackcloth and ashes, and lament. It’s this utter helplessness that brings me back to the concepts and teachings of Jesus, and the hope of the goodness and wisdom of what the Bible calls the Holy Spirit. Finally, I am driven to listen closely to the prophets of this and past generations, who have led and continue to lead us to fight the principalities and powers that violently and heartlessly tread on the least of these, and eventually curse us all.

Listed below are a few articles from modern-day prophets that I've read recently. Required reading for those of you who want to know more!

• The Other Lie by Lisa Sharon Harper
• Beyond a White Privilege Model by Drew G. I. Hart
• The Case for Reparations by Ta-Nehesi Coates
• Every post in Christena Cleveland's blog

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The past 12 months have been a year of upheaval for me. There have been significant changes and challenges at work that have prevented me from writing and engaging as much as I’ve wanted to online and on this blog. I also haven’t felt the same spiritual energy and excitement I found a year ago. I’ve stopped attending church, in fact. I’ve also decided to take a year off of competitive tennis. And on Twitter and Facebook, I have been at times frustrated, infuriated, apathetic, defensive, and vindictive with people. I lost the thread of my story and the path of my journey.

Through various conversations at work, at home, and online, it finally hit me: I have no vision.

A vision is not meant to describe a current state of being. A vision is meant to stretch, challenge, and lead the way forward. Lacking a vision, is it any wonder that I feel confused, fearful, defensive, and reactive?

At the moment of realization, I started thinking about such a vision. I dug deep, beyond thoughts, into what I was feeling—both negative and positive. I wrote a draft, talked through it with my partner. I asked for guidance from friends. I lit a candle and sat in silence (this is how I pray). I made more edits and finalized both a vision and guiding principles. This is how I want to engage with family and friends, at work, in my community, and online.

I want to be very clear: the vision and guiding principles listed below are mine alone. I do not and will not expect others to live up to my vision and guiding principles. There are so many moving parts in the Body of Christ. It would be unfair and foolish for me to judge others on the basis of my own call.

Vision

Listen. I will open my ears and heart to actively listen and respond to those who share their journeys, challenges, struggles and cries for help, giving precedence to those who are marginalized by oppressive structures and systems in society and in the church.

Amplify. I will amplify the voices of those who are marginalized. I will not use those who are marginalized to amplify my own voice.

Speak. I will actively seek my personal hero’s journey. I will follow the path of this journey whenever and wherever I find it. I will speak up and share this journey in order to encourage and empower others, and to enable true connection.

Do Better. I will continue to grow and move forward by applying that which I have learned by listening, amplifying, and speaking. I will learn from my mistakes rather than give up because of them. I will be willing to change.

Guiding Principles

Honesty. I will be honest about my story and journey. I will be authentic in my engagement with others, including (and especially) when we disagree. I will honor (not deny) my thoughts and feelings, and communicate them using the other guiding principles.

Kindness. I will be kind (not necessarily “nice”) in my interactions with others. I will see God’s image in each individual before engaging. I will have compassion for myself and others.

Humility. I will be willing to accept and admit error. I will not engage with arrogance nor with negative humility (i.e., false modesty).

Patience. I will have patience with those who ask questions honestly. I will have patience with myself: I will not panic if I have nothing to share—the sharing will come eventually by following the journey.

Courage. I will not be afraid to stand up to those who use power to abuse and silence others. I will push through fear and tell my story.

Receptiveness. I will assume positive intent. I will be open to criticism and disagreement. I will be willing to engage when asked or challenged. I will not take disagreement personally.


Do you have a vision and/or guiding principles that have helped you? I’d love to hear from you in the comments or on Twitter/Facebook!

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Between God and You

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God is loving you when you try and fail.
God is loving you when you get angry and lash out.
God is loving you when you get it so, so wrong.
God is loving you when you are misunderstood.
God is loving you when you realize they were right about you after all.
God is loving you when you give up.
God is loving you when you try yet again and fail.
God is loving you when you are mocked for trying.
God is loving you when you are confused.
God is loving you when you get it right, and forget why you did the right thing in the first place.

God is loving you when you hate God for not being who you thought God was.

Between God and you there is nothing but love.
There is no space for anything else.

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The Hero's Journey

"Neither shall they say, See here! or, see there! for, behold, the kingdom of God is within you." - Luke 17:21

Last week, I took a much-needed vacation. Because I live in Northwest Oregon, I didn’t have to go far to "get away from it all." Those of you who live here or who have visited know the breathtaking views of the Columbia Gorge, Forest Park, and Mt. Hood. Packing water bottles, beef jerky, granola bars, a Hikes Near Portland guide, and the book Awakening the Heroes Within by Carol S. Pearson, I was ready for a week of hiking and solitude.

If you are interested, you can view some highlights from these hikes!

The peaceful, live-giving atmosphere was the perfect setting to dive into Pearson's book. In Awakening the Heroes Within, Pearson asserts that every human being is capable of taking the "hero's journey." Simply put, the hero's journey is the call to true Self. Pearson describes twelve archetypes that have been coded into humankind's mythology, history, literature, art, and culture since ancient times. These archetypes give us a roadmap for the hero's journey: to go beyond Ego, find our Soul, and bring this treasure back as true Self. It is when we discover our true Self that we are able to transform our world.

What a great book to take on a long, beautiful hike! The physicality of walking the rocky, steep paths further solidified the concept of journeying. Pearson’s book was also the perfect follow-up to Speak, by Nish Weiseth. In Speak, Weiseth reminds us that each of our stories matter, and that we find true connection only when we share and listen to each other’s stories. The story is the journey.

II.

A key element of the hero's journey is the slaying of dragons. Today, there is a real evil--a dragon--that lives among us and breathes fire. This dragon is the structural oppression that has come from years of a patriarchy that values certain people above others. Like many mythical beasts, this dragon is cunning, vicious, and seemingly impossible to slay. Like the Hydra, it has multiple heads: racism and sexism are perhaps the strongest, most well-developed "heads." The dragon is cunning in that is convinces people it doesn't exist. It often uses otherwise well-meaning people to achieve its ghastly destruction. It enslaves us, and turns us against each other. Even those of us who are aware of its existence disagree on how the dragon should be slayed, and the dragon gleefully uses this confusion and dissension against us.

The ideas from Pearson and Weiseth are so vital, because they prepare us and encourage us to take the journey we ALL need to take in order to gain the wisdom to collectively slay this dragon.

We are overcome with contradicting voices: from family, friends, co-workers, employers, community, social media, news media, church, advertising, and from within. You must do this! You mustn't do that! You must speak up for the oppressed! You must be silent and allow the oppressed to speak for themselves! You aren't good enough! You are focused on the wrong things!

This is where I find myself stuck recently; and, if I’m honest, where I’ve found myself stuck over and over again: paralyzed by the din of conflicting voices.

Growing up and throughout my twenties, I was told that a core part of my identity—my sexuality—was broken. I was given this message directly by the church, and indirectly by society as a whole. The voices discouraged me from taking my journey. However, I could not HELP but heed the call to the journey. It was either that or die.

The voices may be well-meaning; they may even be speaking from their true Selves and from the wisdom they have gleaned from their own journeys. However, in the end, you must take your own hero's journey. If you do not, you will not have the ability to transform your world and slay the dragon. You will not have the discernment needed to filter through voices that come from hurt, malice, or opportunism. You must first find your story, live your story, and then tell your story. Taking the hero's journey not only gives you the ability to find, live, and tell your story; it also allows you to do what's most important: listen to other peoples' stories, connect with them, and build with them. Here is where true solidarity, true connection, and effective collective action can be achieved.

To that end, I must find, live, and tell MY story. Anything different would be powerless against the dragon.

In a later post, I want to provide a visual to flesh out these ideas more fully. In this visual, I'll show what a hero's journey can look like, what archetypes are at play, and what archetypes can be most helpful to those on the journey.

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