I’m struggling... because I can breathe

I’m struggling, but not for the reasons you might expect.  Normally when we say we’re struggling we might allude to some mental health crisis or grief or some other instance of suffering.  I guess my struggle is allied with these things in some ways.  If it’s anything, it’s grief, but not for me.  Frustratingly yet fortunately for me, it’s for others.

The key manifestation of my grief is I don’t know what I can do to help, which implies I really want to help.  This feeling is strange for me, because I don’t normally wear burdens like this, which for a counsellor is a great thing.  It means I’m not usually predisposed to fatigue in bearing others’ struggles.  I can empathise and minister usually without feeling fatigued or inadequate.  All day long.  Because I consider suffering with others [compassion] an honour, I find I can empathise deeply and yet don’t wear burdens.

But I must contend that now I feel it — for those who are oppressed.  I think of my ‘black’ brothers and sisters in America, when I don’t want to call anyone ‘black’ (or refer to people generically to any colour or other designation that dehumanises them).  There should be no black and white, but there is.  Closer to home, I think of my aboriginal brothers and sisters.  And further afield to all indigenous peoples who all fare about the same — poorly would be the understatement of the history of the world.  Generational trauma is diabolical.

I’m struggling in grief for them, but to be honest I really have little idea of what they’ve suffered, though I’m intensely open to finding out.  I’ve written a lot about suffering over the years but there’s a suffering I’m totally ignorant about.  And that troubles me.  I am, after all, about as ‘privileged’ as one gets — a white male in his 50s.  It disturbs me if I’m blunt.  I wish it weren’t so, but then again, I must concede it makes me feel safe.  My safety at others’ expense.  I feel I should be ashamed, but then the colour of my skin isn’t my fault either.

But why should I prosper more than another person because I’m a particular skin colour or gender?  (Oh yeah, there are huge gender in equities as well!)  I wouldn’t want the next person to suffer more than me, just because they are a different skin colour or gender or different in some other way that’s beyond their say.

I don’t want to arrive on heaven’s doorstep to come face-to-face with the reality I could have done more, or anything differently, and please know that I know that this self-motivation is a selfish one.  The prayer of my heart is that I could do more to restore the racial imbalance, and not just that, but the gender imbalances as well.  To do what Jesus did and was passionate about.

Emmanuel Acho says, “White privilege is having a head start due to hundreds and hundreds of years of systematic and systemic racism.  It’s having a head start built into your life.  It’s not saying your life hasn’t been hard.  It’s saying your skin colour hasn’t contributed to the difficulty in your life.”

How must God feel when we turn a blind eye to this systematic and systemic racism?  It’s the same with sexism, and really any other ism.  But imagine having to always remember that your skin colour represents a threat to white people — and not just a perceived threat, but enough to feel threatened for unfair treatment from law-enforcement.  No matter how many impartial police there are, that threat is ingrained in the psyche of people of a certain skin colour.  I can’t imagine that, though I suppose a parallel would be that I endeavour to ensure I’m never alone with children other than my own children, because I know and respect the history of sex abuse survivors at the hands of ministers.  But my parallel is nothing in comparison with being morbidly fearful on a daily, moment by moment basis.

I know education is the key to it all, and this is the springboard to compassion and empathy.  I know I need to educate myself more on what I need to stand for and why I need to stand for it.  I also know that my ambivalence that many white people won’t change isn’t good enough anymore.  It isn’t any good to remain silent just because I’ve lost hope that some will change.  There are so many social justice issues that I do care about, and that is okay.  I, like you, must accept that there is an acceptable amount of change that any of us can bring.

I also ask for your forgiveness, because in trying to work out what the will of God is, I have wavered a bit, especially in recent times, and if you read what I write you might have detected some of this.

Most of all, I must do what I can do in my life, within my reach, to speak up for the oppressed minorities, which of course isn’t limited to racism.