White People, Get Messy

It's time for us white people to get messy, to screw it up, and to get it wrong.

Just after we all watched George Floyd's murder and the protests began, I sent texts to several black friends saying that I'm thinking about them and I want to talk to them about what's happening. I received responses that were as varied as those friends. A few called me and we talked and got angry. One sent a text saying, "I'm tired of getting love texts from my white friends. I don't have the energy to talk to you. Welcome to reality."

I spoke with another on the phone and his message was along these lines:

"I'm in my 50s and have been fighting this all my life. I've been subjected to racism in my social, professional, romantic and economic life. It started when I was a kid. I’m tired. I'm sitting this one out. This is about white people finally getting in the fight. It's time for you to get out in the streets and fix what you created."

That was messy. Thank you for the lessons.

I grew up as a gay kid in the 60s and 70s in a small rural town (less than 1,000 people) in east Texas, and my family was devout Southern Baptist. Yes, I was raised in a racist world and carefully and discreetly taught racism. I heard regularly in church from the wise and godly minister how I was an abomination. Disassembling, rethinking and relearning has been my work for the last 40 years. And I'm not done.

A guru once told me that sometimes we are born very far from where we are meant to be, and the discomfort of not fitting in propels us to where we belong. He uses the example of an archer pulling a bow string until it’s taught and at the breaking point, then releasing the string to shoot the arrow to its target. Disagreeing with the values I was born into gave me the energy and drive to recast my life and crystallize my own values.

I know that being gay has no intersection with being black in America, and I don’t want to imply that I’ve experienced anything like what our black brothers and sisters experience. In addition to being gay, I’m a white male. When I walk down the street, people don’t see me as gay. I can tell people I’m gay whenever I chose. Cops don't pull me over just because I'm gay. Being gay has not given me any real insight into the black experience in this country, but it’s what I have to work with.

Now I get angry when someone is told they are less-than. I am furious when someone in this country tells another American that they don't have the right to the full support and safety of our laws. I hate discrimination that is built into our laws and economic systems and supported by our political leaders. I go into a rage when people are told they are outsiders. "Acceptance" and "tolerance" are words that reinforce the ruling class and their exclusion of others.

I've been having hard conversations with friends who, according to my holier-than-thou judgement, are shirking their responsibilities in this awakening by sitting on the couch and not participating. They are white people who say they are not racist and don't see color. They are wealthy professionals who have written a couple of checks and will vote, but can't be bothered with deeper involvement. So I'm committed to challenging them. I have not done a good job of controlling my anger or my judgement. Of course, they are on their own path and their awakening, or non-awakening, is theirs. I need to respect that. I've now jeopardized friendships with some beautiful and wonderful people.

I screwed up those interactions too. I'm sorry.

I had another conversation about this awakening with a friend I respect perhaps as much as anyone I know. He is thoughtful, compassionate, respectful, humble, and has raised three extraordinarily good men who live by those same values. I implied that he's not doing his part. I then learned that he and his wife have been actively fighting racial inequality and supporting marginalized people far longer than I have.

I got that wrong. Really wrong. I’m sorry. And I know his values also include patience and guidance and forgiveness.

Here’s what I’m taking from this. I’m reading books on racism. I’m watching lots of videos posted by black friends and leaders. I’m listening to podcasts and reading up on the REAL racial history of our country. I’m also not shutting myself away in my bubble. My gut tells me that’s the worst thing we can do. Our fear around talking openly about the hard and triggering stuff is what got us into this mess. Staying in our echo chambers of agreement (aka social media) is not helping. We have to move into the uncomfortable learning zone to clarify new thinking; to shoot the arrow to its target.

I’m going out there and talking. I’m going to marches. I’m asking questions. I’m testing my thoughts with conversation. I’m asking my black friends to explain it to me. And I’m trying to be OK with getting it wrong.

As a 50+ white male, I’m certain I will screw this up from time to time. I want to be OK with that. Black people have been made to feel angry, unsafe, outside and less-than for over 400 years. I can take on a little discomfort in this process of recasting our future and crystallizing our values as a country; as a human race. I’m committing to being OK when I get it wrong.

So white people, get out there and get messy. Getting messy is part of cleaning up. It’s OK if you screw it up. Just don’t let that fear keep you shut away in your safe social media bubble. Real change means you’re going to screw it up sometimes. Try to get it right and be OK with getting it wrong. Getting it wrong is what learning looks like. It’s time for us to get out in the streets and fix what we created.

We are not captives of our past. We can change and clarify our beliefs and actions as we age and grow. And thank God for that. And when we are messy and get it wrong and need to be corrected, I hope that our black brothers and sisters see our fumbling and our ignorance, our learner’s minds, as well as our heavy-handed desire to change. I hope they will show us patience and guidance and forgiveness.