What a White Mom tells her African American Daughter about Ferguson

“It’s sad and scary.” She sits straight up at the pub-style chair before heading off to school. Her eyes just seeing fire-laden pictures of Ferguson burning the night before.

She is eight.

And contrary to everything in me, wanting to keep silent, wanting to shield her innocence from a world gone crazy, wanting to hide in the shadows pretending the world is perfect, caring, unified, nirvana -ic .  I have to tell her.  My conscience won’t let me do otherwise.

For if I have learned one thing it’s that anything hidden in darkness will begin to grow.  And even the truth masqueraded in the night, turns into a lie, of sorts…in time….If we don’t share it.

“If anyone mentions the people burning down Ferguson, and says anything to you because your African American, say something to the Principal, say something to me, especially…please.”

And not to be a fear-monger, not to instill or inflate the reality of racism in a child so innocent, so young, still, I have learned something…if we shield our children before the wars come, failing to equip and prepare, educate and make aware the realities of a world not fair, unequal, unjust….how are we supposed to expect them to stand when the real fires come?

I have been in stores, drifting slowly while shopping, from my African American daughter.  And I see how they look at her, clerks glaring, speculations, following my daughter around as if she is going to steal something.  But, as soon as I come; touch her, kiss her, intentionally alert the clerk to the awareness that this blonde-haired, green eyed lady is in fact her mother…the clerks never fail to smile at us warmly, backing off slowly, cocking their heads in a guilt-ridden, somewhat plastic, apologetic, “Is that your daughter, she is so beautiful”, or a somewhat more aloof, “Oh hi, how has your day been going?”

I hold my daughter close, smile back a plastic, “fine”, warring against hate, anger, reverse racism, because biases creating more bias’ never solve anything, and judgements are a heart and mind issue, not something one stance, or even an isolated conversation can fix.

And how can UNITY heal if we don’t live it first?

How can truth prevail, justice surface, if we don’t live as peace-makers first, before demanding change in others?

Still I wonder, what if I hadn’t been there?  What if my skin was dark ebony, like hers?  What if I was male, or younger, or simply born looking like someone completely different?  How would I have been treated?  Worse yet, how would the self-image of my daughter die if she was raised having to experience a life-time of character assassinations simply based on how she looks?   Would she learn to resent the store owners, the skeptics, the judgers, others who define her, not by the content of her character, but by the color of her skin?

Yet, today I speak with this little girl who came to us soon after her birth; today, an ever so happy-go-lucky girl, loves singing and dancing, still innocent and ignorant to the fullness of the world’s prejudices.

Still, what would it be like if she grew up in a place where racism was louder than a few stares from a store-clerk, or some remarks by toddlers when we go out in public?

Without taking sides, my eight-year-old then cries out, “I know, I will just go talk to them.”  As if rationalizing with the people burning down Ferguson somehow makes sense.  Still, her child-like understanding, a fresh breath….thinking words and kindness can heal everything.

And yet, her innocent perspective softens my tumultuous heart.

“Sweaty, I wish you could, but the problem is so much bigger than that.  It goes all the way back to slavery and the offenses and generations of racism that those who are African American have experienced.”

And my Daddy always told me, “You never know what it’s like to be another person until you walk in their shoes”.

And I’ll never be African American.  For truth be told, most of us will never really get what it’s like to be discriminated against, like those of color do. So, why discredit them, or pretend we do?

I will never forget the day we walked into a fast food restaurant my husband and I were coming to for the first time.  While ordering, a cook from the back lines started screaming loudly to my husband, “you spic”.  (A derogatory racial term for those who are Hispanic) At the time, if I remember right, my husband was still working at Micro-soft.  But while wearing casual clothes there was no way of that minimum wage guy to know my South American husband had an I.Q. higher than most in our country…or that He was educated in some of the most elite European schools that exist today.

Still, coming from a big city with tons of diversity, we were ignorant when walking into the restaurant in a city that used to be farms and country just a few generations prior, thinking all is well in our diverse, newly married life.

I was livid.  I told him to call the franchise chain and report the incident.  My husband so nonchalant about it, saw my anger rage. I had never seen anything like it.  People attacked simply because of the color of their skin.

The restaurant chain acted un-enthused by the report, and promised quite dully to send him gift certificates as compensation.

The certificates never came. (Even though I couldn’t care and felt quite offended by the offer.)  For weeks I kept on insisting on complaining, writing letter’s to the franchise, doing whatever was needed in regard to this random act of racism, until my voice was heard.

See, I grew up thinking justice always works, I grew up as a white girl just assuming everyone had equal rights and that we could always, “trust the system”.  I remember even “getting off” on numerous speeding tickets when I would smile big or “act remorseful” as a teenager. During that time, before serving Jesus, I was also “set free” when truth be told, I should have been arrested more times that I’d like to count.

But, let’s face it….We don’t know what it’s like if we are white to live in a country being brown.

“I know mom, it’s about our hearts.  They just need to feel loved mom.”  And I didn’t know if she meant the police department or Ferguson…but my guess is she meant all of these…all of us.

And isn’t that it friends?  Isn’t it about taring down the walls in our very own minds and hearts?  Stop labeling, building boxes and putting people in it…either white, black, brown, or us vs. them?

Isn’t this war we are in, less about color and more about morality and justice, the right to defend, and to be counted worthy as humans?

And isn’t it true that we can never have peace and resolution, truth and understanding unless our hearts are humbled, our mind’s open, our perspective is broadened? For isn’t it only  grace and Jesus any of us can ever know UNITY in the first place?

And don’t divisions go all the way back to scripture?  Isn’t it the enemies tactic to divide people? Even Jew and Gentile were segregated at one time in the Bible.

But Christ came to UNITE all people unto Himself. 

He designed to reconcile to God both Jew and Gentile, uniting them in a single body by means of His cross, thereby killing the mutual enmity and bringing the feud of elitism, prejudice and segregation to an end. (Ephesians 2:16)

And why is it we divide by our differences?  When we were made by the same God, the same Creator, who tore the veil so that we ALL could have free access to the throne room, to a God who didn’t pick and choose some…who didn’t grant us partial freedom.  But for freedom set before us, we each can have liberty from the barriers keeping us from loving, understanding, and patiently accepting and hearing those who have different opinions than us?

And would we want a whole people group to divide from us, just because of the wrong decisions, the tainted actions of a handful of us as people?

My daughter went to school that day.  She had no problems at all.  Still, as an African American women one day who will not have her white mom hovering over her….I am thankful I told her about Ferguson.  Thankful that I warned her that the world isn’t perfect.  That I educated and will continue to educate  her about the reality that walls and divisions will always separate people even when God died to show His love for ALL of us.

And living in a household consisting of an African American, Hispanic, Asian, two hybrids, and a Blonde Haired Norwegian….we will always get stares, always get questions, and possibly even criticism.  But, I know that our message without words, our life-style that says, “love and family isn’t about how we look on the outside, anyway”…is what will be lasting when people look at us.

So the question stands….What are we going to teach other people about us as individuals anyway?  Will we offer love or hate?  Will we trust God is Sovereign and will fix all things in His time and His way?  Will we fight injustice, stand for truth, lean on on His power and strength when the sin of divisiveness worms its way inside us?

Let’s educate a new generation that love always triumphs hate.  Let’s teach  this next generation to live just, moral, truthful lives, free from the social stigmas too many face.  Let’s turn our focus to Christ centered love, so that he can pour out the true healing balm to each of us.

For who of us is perfect, and doesn’t need to change, anyway?

 (Photo credit: abcnews.go.com)