Dear George Floyd....

Dear Mr. Floyd,

A few days ago, you were known by your family, friends and community. Today, you are known all over America and probably all over the world. We all know your name. So many are making sure your name is spoken and remembered. Your name is shared across social media, across political parties, across religious affiliations. More people are asking questions, asking how to partner with Black brothers and sisters, and seeking education. Conversations have begun, because of you. But, it shouldn’t have had to be because of you, because of the loss of you, because of your family’s loss, because we have added you to a list of names of Black men and women unjustly taken.

I’m a White woman that you’ll never know. I’m married to a Black man and have an amazing biracial daughter. I am so proud of our family we have created. It’s rich in culture and love. I grew up in rural Mississippi and went to school with so many African American classmates that I adored. I’m sad to say, however, that I really didn’t know them in the way they should have been known. We didn’t have mixed birthday parties, church services, dinners out, etc. I’m not calling fault out in the past, but I’ve learned we must do better to know each other so that we can better be accountable for each other. I had always had good intentions and never considered myself to possess racist ideals, but that’s how a lot of white people feel I guess. I know now that good intentions are not enough, and we don’t know what we don’t know which keeps us entrenched in our limited perspectives. Good intentions are not even a start. I have surrounded myself as much as possible with people of color in friendship, and I’ve learned and am learning so much. I’m unlearning a lot of things as best I can, and it’s hard work but I know it’s a fraction of your hard work. It is not my friend’s place to teach me what I should know; it is my own responsibility to learn. We can’t truly ever understand life for people of color, but we can learn more of their struggles as we listen. We can see their hesitance, exhaustion, disappointment, and as we begin to love them and truly know them, then we begin to see what we could not have seen before. We too regularly see another piece of soul chipped away with another Black death.

For me, I have never had to think of safety, really, as I go about my daily life. I am hyper aware in some surroundings because I’m a woman aware of statistics for assault, but I’m not worried about doing daily mundane things. My husband and I moved to St. Louis in 2015 shortly after the Michael Brown case when racial tensions were still high. I’ll admit- when those protests happened, I was pretty planted in white ideals and privilege although I didn’t realize it or know it had a name.  My husband answered a lot of questions (and was very patient), and I continued to argue my mindset because it made sense to me and my intentions were good. I was not a racist. I felt like I had not contributed to white supremacy because I treated everyone the same, but as I would learn, that’s the biggest problem. I was unknowingly complacent. Because I didn’t see it firsthand, it didn’t make sense to me. I never realized advantage I had being born as a white person in America because I never had to tangibly exercise it – my existence was enough. I needed some shifts in thinking. I needed more experiences, more stories from people. As I navigated our new city, I began to ask more questions, read more books, subscribe to more podcasts, and follow more diverse Instagram accounts. I knew it began to make sense when I didn’t want my husband doing some of the things I did on a daily basis. I would, with no hesitation, hop in the car at 9PM with a broken taillight and run to CVS. When he volunteered to go, then my mind shifted to “Well, it can wait until tomorrow.” I was terrified of him being pulled over. We live in a wealthy neighborhood and I can dart through the alley to one street over where my sister lives to borrow something, but I would recommend that he drive to do the same. Don’t get me wrong, we have a great neighborhood filled with nice people. But, the discomfort there or worry began to rise and started to yell in my ear and it could not be ignored. I should not have to feel this way. I can do these things with no worry at all, but I hesitate to send my husband out. He knows the rules, the code. He’s the sweetest, gentlest, kindest, softest spoken man I know, and I think everyone would agree that has met him. And I still get scared of a stranger confronting him who does not know these things. I know all these things are old news to you, Mr. Floyd. You have seen this contrast since you were young. Your parents probably explained all this to you at a young age, as I’ve learned most African American families do. My worry, that emerged when I began to understand and see more, is a worry your parents have harbored their whole lives.

So Mr. Floyd, I had vowed to do better for my family and learn more. My daughter, before she was even 3, had identified as brown. She openly talks about skin color and states proudly that she has brown skin. She identifies with her father more, with the dark eyes, curly hair and dark skin. I owe it to her to talk about race openly and to ensure that she has a voice that is used kindly and justly. Then your story came along. I already felt a heightened obligation to learn more after the murder of Ahmaud Arbery, and your death was yet another catalyst.  I say all this to promise you, a stranger, that I’ll do better and continue to learn. I’m going to write your name and so many others inside my Bible. I want to remember your names as I go to scripture for guidance. I want to be reminded that we are all created in the image of god so your faces come alive as I read.  I’ll see your name as I’m reminded that God calls us to work toward justice and reconciliation. I have a long way to go in my journey, but I am in a posture of humility and learning. I’m also going to share resources with friends so that it’ll be easier for them to pick up one to get started. I know that your Black brothers and sisters are tired. You’ve needed us as white allies and we haven’t understood or acted based on what we have learned or seen in media.

I will always remember your last words of “I can’t breathe.” I know you were speaking not only of the physical pain of the moment but also the ongoing pain of Black men and women suffocating in injustice.

Rest in peace, George Floyd.

Danielle

A plea for grace, to Christians (and all)

Fear has been on my mind a lot. In the past, I have been a person filled with fear and anxiety and it’s a daily battle to fill myself with good thoughts and scripture in order to navigate my day and near AND far future planning. I have the capability to worry enough for all of us put together.

As I watch the news and read newsfeeds on social media, I’m realizing that fear must be interwoven in a lot of what we think about and do. I prefer to assume fear over apathy or indifference. I keep asking myself: As Christians, what are we afraid of?

All through this, I say WE. None of us are perfect, and we have prejudices that we struggle to work through on a daily basis I think. When these things come to mind, I know they are for ME and I share them for YOU who may be pondering the same things or just need another perspective to add to your learning process.

We are stressed. We are struggling to make sense of what we see on TV. I struggle most figuring out how this relates to my faith. But, how much do I need to waste time on this? We know how this story ends. We have a guide book. We’ve been given the gift of grace – for ourselves and others. We aren’t responsible for another’s salvation, that’s God’s job. We aren’t responsible for making all the big decisions right now, or the ramifications of making the wrong ones. Don’t we believe God is infinite, bigger? Don’t WE know this is no surprise to Him? If we do, then why are we so worried? We choose fear over love. We choose not to love and support others in the margins because we don’t understand, we impose our rules and regulations, our bible verses – what do we fear by listening? If we remember that ALL our God’s children and He “has ALL this” under control, then why don’t we listen? Why do we quickly post a verse that supports our “anti-whatever the issue of the moment is?” Jesus was really simple and he often shocked the religious groups with his simplicity and grace that summed up his ability to love – love your neighbor as yourself. Remember, your neighbor is not necessarily the ones you like, or choose, or look like, or agree with.

We don’t have to change our religions. We don’t have to give up our rights. I think I’ve heard people say “love’s the only house big enough for us all.” But are our rooms reserved?

We’ll get some extra immigrants of Muslim faith? So what? We have radicals of all religions. We can’t forget the damage that we WASPS have done in this country and the damage we have done in other countries too. I can love and I can help and show God’s love and the way of Jesus. Judgement? Not my job. I would ask those who have a lot to say or condemn the Muslims, have you met any? Do you KNOW any? All the ones I know are just the same as me in terms of thoughts, feelings, anti-radicalism, love – the only difference is when I turn right to go to my church on Sunday, she may turn left and go to the mosque. Sure, there are differences in the religion overall – BUT there are a lot of similarities in overall themes. Noone is asking you to convert, and I would venture to say you probably wouldn’t even get that invitation unsolicited (like we often do as Christians). You don’t have to agree with their religious rules and regulations. But, I do dare to say you have to be kind. I believe in kindness without condemnation. I think we all strive for a better humankind.

Gay couples can now marry. So what? Whether I agree or not, it doesn’t matter. If it’s wrong, then that is God’s job to judge. Mine is to love, regardless. We can love without agreeing. I cannot let my faith and my choices hinder another’s. With so many unknowns in this world, I can’t take that responsibility on myself to limit another’s freedoms. Years ago, my marriage was illegal. If I don’t “agree” with something or some issue which there are several for me, I don’t have to engage or participate in that “action” or whatever. Don’t worry, people will know how you feel and there’s a way to respectfully discuss feelings and convictions. We can control what we do in our homes, our family’s thoughts and feelings and actions, but we can’t always speak for the nation as a whole.

We just don’t have the foresight. We don’t know all the steps toward the end, but we do know the end right? We’ve had a spoiler alert in the bible. I know I’m so busy “chasing my lil red wagon that is constantly rolling down the hill” that I cannot monitor someone else’s and still keep my life in order.

I hear Christians post everywhere: “It’s the end times.” I’ve heard this for years after big events, especially political ones in the Middle East. SO WHAT IF IT IS? Let’s go home! Aren’t we living daily as if it is the end times? I want to love right down to my death. I don’t have time to waste living in fear.

I saw Rachel Held Evans speak this past weekend and one thing she talked about really hit home with how I’m feeling with this topic. What if the church dies? It will be rebirthed – we KNOW resurrection. She said “empires worry about death. Resurrectionists don’t. God makes all things new.” Maybe some of our religion has become an empire. We want power – megachurches, say so in other’s rights because they need to align with our scriptures, etc. Maybe Christianity should die to the old way and be made new – maybe it will be a kingdom that belongs to all.

When we feel threatened, I believe strongly that Jesus wants us to react with love, not fear. Fear causes us to use racial slurs, religious slurs, and just expose what we are struggling with inside. I’ve seen this too much lately and I just feel undone. I saw a picture on FaceBook that said “All I need to know about Islam I learned on 911.” Now, this was shared on a Christian’s page – same page that is usually decorated with bible verses. I was so confused. Really, we didn’t learn anything about true Islam on 911. Yes, there were some @#$%*&#s that forever changed our country on that day. They were radical. We have radical Christians who murder in the name of Jesus. I’m glad I’m not judged by that minority. Can we extend the same grace for other religions? Because really, we are talking about things that we don’t know much of the time. Our life and ministry on Earth is short – let’s not let media or ignorant notions influence how we love people.

I also have seen other pictures like the one that has a cat in a Chinese take-out bag that says “When your Chinese food is undercooked.” Again, a Christian page usually filled with bible verses. This one stung. This was unkind and really not funny to me. A portion of my family is Asian. A similar slur was stated this week regarding North Koreans by Mike Huckabee and 7000+ liked it. Seriously?

This is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to this whole idea. I’d rather die loving than arguing my faith or breaking down another culture. If we are created in his image as it explicitly states in the bible, do we get to determine which ones of us are created in his image? We know that nonverbal language speaks more loudly than verbal, it’s a small % of communication. By living it out as an example, it speaks far more than posting statements or pictures that close the conversation or choosing not to love because of a difference in practice/faith/opinions/religion/etc.

Grace. I love that concept. It’s easy (for many of us) to receive it but giving it is a whole different ballgame, isn’t it? Another thing that Rachel Held Evans said that really struck me was that we can be reckless with grace because “it got out of hand when Jesus died on the cross and before he died he asked God to forgive his captors.” I think we need to remember those words and that image when we want to hold back, when we don’t think another or “group” deserves it. We didn’t deserve it. It was a gift.

I write this not as a shaming post but as a plea. I’m truly heartbroken. Slurs are hurtful to me, who has friends of many cultures and religions. I love my faith and Jesus. Seeing these posts have just deeply saddened me. We can do this, y’all. We can do it better. We can disagree with grace. We have to think more before we click post, share, upload.  The world is watching us – what will they say about Christians and our ability to love? This is our time. fearlessly, stand up and choose love over fear – we know how the story ends!

Let’s live and LOVE like we know and believe the rest the story!

Love,

Danielle

Thoughts on growing and learning (as a White person)

There’s so much going on the world right now, isn’t there? Most times, I don’t even know where to start to begin to process it. I often shoot my friend Jody an email and that helps because I know she wonders too and I know that we can have an uncomfortable conversation [Thanks Jody!]. I'm learning so much about what stems from misunderstanding and imposing our thoughts, cultures, and religions on others. 

I grew up in a small rural town in South Mississippi. I would not trade this for anything. I loved it. It was so valuable in forming my solid foundation. It was simple, yet complicated I would later learn, but rich.

Over the past 10 years, I’ve had Asian and Latina friends ask me several times how I became to be who I am and “not like many white people.” [I'm not offended by their generalization because I know it comes from experiences they have had, I'm not here to argue it or reduce it] Although I have a lot to learn, I’m proud of who I have become and those questions at least let me know I’m on the right track and to “keep on keeping on.” I hope you can say that too? I look back and who I am today is a smattering of experiences and discomfort fueled by curiosity and a yearning to be connected in the world.

I moved to California in 2001. I had never been so far away from home. The farthest I had gone was Mobile, a whopping 45 minutes away. I initially moved to Hollywood (later moving to Orange County). It was exhilarating and overwhelming to my senses. I loved it. I was a fish out of water but soon found my new fish bowl. Or maybe I was more of a goldfish in the Pacific Ocean? I was soon surrounded by all kinds of “fish” and it unlocked this curiosity in me that had never before been exposed. I fell in love with the diversity, but I was also shaken by it. All of my world views and perspectives were suddenly challenged – both internally and externally. All of the absolutes (and many “those peoples”) were confronted.

I made a ton of mistakes as I learned to access my new world. I had to figure out how to satisfy this desire to learn more about people without offending them in the same breath. I wanted to know everything about them. I wanted to know their stories. A comfort in the discomfort began to develop as each story chipped away at ideals that I had held about things and people and countries and systems and EVERYTHING. I appreciated those who did not get offended as I misspoke and misasked (“What are you?” or "Which Asian are you?"– makes you cringe right, those who are so PC? I know, me too). I made all the typical “white people mistakes” as they call it out of a genuine interest to know others.

Side note: I think we should spend less time guffawing at the way people ask questions sometimes and focus on the reason they are asking – when they WANT to know you…answer and politely teach the better way of asking. Race discussions can only get better when we can educate one another and not be scared to ask a question because it may be the wrong way to ask. I’m thankful for patient friends. I didn’t and never will have that perspective of other races and cultures. We “white people” would certainly ask in the most “politically correct way of the moment” if we knew how.

My view of immigrants changed as I sat at the feet of a friend and listened to her stories of what she fled from in her native country and how hard she has worked since landing here to become a citizen get an education and give back to this country. I served in Boise Idaho with Create Common Good who assists refugees who are placed in the United States. I saw how hard they worked to acclimate quickly, within a ridiculous time frame, to learn skills and the language in order to secure a minimum wage job (mind you, many who were “comfortable” in their own countries before war).

I learned a lot through my own immigration story with Luba. I learned what it is like on the “other side” with legal immigration. It’s difficult even when you do everything correctly, and even as the “White middle class American.”

I saw the hardship as I recycled weekly – me saving for adoption and others recycling to make ends meet, to put food on their families’ tables. Many of them were far beyond their “working years.” I made a point to look around and see people. 

I found a church where I was the minority. It was primarily Asian American - Korean and Chinese with a spackling of other nationalities. I stuck out there (there were less than 10 white people I think when I started, and that's out of hundreds) but loved it. I was nurtured there and grew so much. I was gently led for over 10 years by Asian pastors, friends and prayer warriors.

My sister’s husband is Vietnamese. I’ve learned so much from him and his family – his family who took me in when they married as if I were their own. What a gift to hear immigration stories first hand – leaving Vietnam, settling, growing, being what you are today. Again, I had only known Vietnam through minimal stories of the war. We as a country don’t really talk about Vietnam, still.

I took a trip to South Africa, with Africa being a continent I never wanted to visit. It wrongly represented a personal painful history. The people and landscape of that country has taught me the most about myself, about God, about humanity, sacrifice and love. I still dream of my trips. I can see it vividly. I can smell it. It is where I met my husband and where my new family lives.

Through providing therapy services, I have been in many homes of many cultures, but one of my favorite ones was a family of Islamic faith. In public, I first noticed the differences. At home, I couldn’t tell where I ended and they began. The mother was free to walk around dressed just as I was. Her husband was one of the kindest, and most hilarious, men I have ever known. Neither were radical, but like me, they clung to their faith to navigate and do right in this world. They were equally distraught of over radical faith and acts of terror. I remember them when I watch the news or read comments by Americans who disregard another religion because of a minority of radicals. What if people judged me by those Westboro Church beings?

I'm partial to everyone having equal human rights whether I agree or disagree with their decisions. The reason that drives it home? Not too many years ago, my marriage would have been illegal in the United States. I cannot even imagine. It makes no sense. We have the gift of hindsight to see these things. I never want to look back with that same gift and realize I was part of something that violated another's rights because I held so tightly to my own as if they would have changed. 

I began to think about the lives of young African American boys as I felt called to one day adopt a young black male. I had never been “against” anything in particular or argued the plight but I had simply never thought of it. It never affected me directly, or so I thought. That is, until it became personal. I began to learn of the safety talks men have with their sons and the fear that haunts mothers (both adoptive White and African American mothers) when their young Black sons are out at night. People don’t just make this up. To my white friends with all white families, it is real. The media is the media and that’s a blog for another day, but the line of truth that there is an issue today runs through the story somewhere. I knew it was real when Luba came and we lived in Huntington Beach, a city with a sordid past with race. He wanted to walk to CVS a block away to pick up a few things at night. Without understanding fully, I had a visceral response to him walking out the door. I couldn’t reconcile it. I worried the entire time he was gone. That made it more real. If I had this feeling, what is it like for those who live this every day? The African American mom who sends her young teen out into the streets hoping that there are no assumptions or miscommunications that night if he gets pulled over. I learned that i can't wait until issues directly affect me - it'll be too late. 

As I’ve met so many with accents and dialects unlike my own, I’ve learned to listen to the message. Focus on WHAT they are saying and not HOW they say it. Double negatives? No problem. Dropped off that final –s to mark a plural? No worries. It’s most important that we talk and convey the message and listen.

Every day in my marriage presents a learning experience. I think marriage is a hard hard hard road when you are very similar. Throw in two personalities, experiences, cultures, countries of origins, and you can easily make quite a cocktail!

I want to continue to learn. How do you learn? How do you challenge yourself?

For me, I have watched a ton of TED talks in addition to asking others their stories. It’s the easiest thing to do to listen to another person tell his or her story. I try to choose one by people with the focus on storytelling or race. I also read my Bible. Loving others and loving your neighbor (which doesn’t mean the ones you like or are like you) are mandated in that good leather bound book. Jesus loved, without exclusions or clauses. His message was simple and clear. 

I love this quote by Stephen R. Covey:

Most people do not listen with the intent to understand; they listen with the intent to reply.

In my words, I would add: with the intent to reply, to defend, to argue, to correct.

Maybe try some of my favorites and listen to the TED talk or podcast with the intent of listening. Do not say anything. Do not argue or let those thoughts enter in. just listen. Breathe and listen.

Try some of my favorites - I promise you will reap some wisdom or be enlightened if you listen: [email me if you listen to any - would love to know your thoughts!]

TED talks:

Zak Ebrahim, I Am the Son of a Terrorist

Chimamanda Ngozi, Adichie, The Danger of a Single Story

Monica Lewinsky, The Price of Shame

Jamla Lyiscott, 3 Ways to Speak English

Mellody Hobson, Color Blind or Color Brave

Podcast:

On Being with Krista Tipett, John A. Powell: Opening theQuestion of Race to the Question of Belonging

*transcript available if you’d rather….

My favorite line in all of this is: “Whiteness is like the invisible presence of the narrator in a story told from the third person point of view.”

 Happy learning!

With love,

Danielle