The Divide

Pretty sure in America right now that no one had to wait until Martin Luther King Jr. Day to ponder the current race relations in our country. This picture I took on my walk illustrates it pretty accurately. There's a clear divide.

And we can't ignore it. Well, we can and we do. But we shouldn't.

Please know I am not lecturing, preaching, or casting stones. I mean I consider myself a kind, loving human to everyone. I'm a good person. But it's clear I can do better.

I started reading a book yesterday called Waking Up White: And Finding Myself in the Story of Race – a 2014 non-fiction book by Debby Irving about the subject of white privilege. Wow. Although I can't identify with her country club upbringing, I didn't have to. Everything else she's pointed out so far about our perceptions and stereotypes, about how history has shaped this divide and each generation seems to deepen it, is spot on. 

The majority of us were born into white privilege. It doesn't seem as obvious if we're just living in our little bubble. It's not even a fancy bubble. It's just one I've worked for and feel safe in. That doesn't mean I'm privileged in any way, does it?

Well, let's think about simple things that maybe you wouldn't normally call privileges. The author has an exercise to do after each chapter and this one is what I'm on – thinking about the "little things." 

Like tonight, dressed in jeans and old sweatshirt, I was able to walk into a gymnasium and take pictures of children who mostly are strangers to me. Sure there were several people I knew, but I didn't think for a moment the others were suspicious of me, questioning why I was there. 

And like yesterday when I was on my lunchtime walk – looking lovely in my work-from-home very casual attire – I came up to a sheriff's department vehicle at the stop sign and said hello. I didn't think my safety was endangered for a minute.

Does this resonate with anyone? 

I'm only about a third of the way through the book, but I see myself. I'm embarrassed and ashamed. But I see myself. The question is, when I'm finished with it, what am I going to do? Will I do anything?

As Dr. King so aptly stated, “History will have to record that the greatest tragedy of this period of social transition was not the strident clamor of the bad people, but the appalling silence of the good people.”

Sometimes being a good person isn't good enough. God, bless us all!

Crawl If You Have To

There are so many inspiring quotes from Martin Luther "I have a dream" King Jr. I like this one because it can apply to any aspect of life from trying to solve world or person conflict to reaching goals as simple as getting out of debt or following a diet and exercise program.

"If you can't walk, then crawl. But whatever you do you have to keep moving forward."

Since we had today off of work, I kind of took this to heart and moved forward on a few initiatives. Went to the 9 a.m. kickboxing class so that could be checked off my list for the day. Did a little grocery shopping so I could be in the below temperatures as little as possible. Then stuck to home, bouncing from project to project I never seem to have – or make – time for.

I now have my church committee annual report done. I have some freelance work done. I called my mother to check in. I finally ordered Carter's senior pictures and picked out his baby one for the yearbook, too.

Does this bring back memories? I blame my mom who reminded me graduation is less than 4 1/2 months away. Yeah, I get that! Let's not rush things!

Of course, this photo coincides with Dr. King's message. Gotta crawl first, then walk before you can run or even fly. Just take it one step at a time in the forward direction and you're good.

Naturally, that requires a good deal of patience, determination to try again when you fail, and a great support network. If things were easy, we could all do them, right?

I know I will never be in any situation remotely as challenging as MLK, but the few times I was at rock bottom, I really did have to start by crawling first to start the climb upward and forward. He was an amazing inspiration.

May you all find a piece of his wisdom and carry it with you every day.

Dream Weaver

It would be almost disrespectful to share the frivolous activities that comprised my Martin Luther King Jr. Holiday today.

I did spend a lot of time working on "memory preservation" finding photos for Camp Crop-A-Lot. And I did take care of my body with exercise. I am now going to feed my soul by starting my next book club novel, The Kitchen House, which addresses segregation decades before King was even born. Still, I expect it to be a valuable lesson.
 
Not as valuable and enduring as the message in King's landmark 1963 speech during the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom. King actually said more than 1,000 words before he got to the phrase most associated with his reputation as one of the greatest orators in American history.

Instead of a meaningless blog, I invite you and encourage to check out the full text of King’s “I Have a Dream” speech below:

“I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation. Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

“But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we've come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

“In a sense we've come to our nation's capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the ‘unalienable Right’ of ‘Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.’ It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked ‘insufficient funds.’

“But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we've come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.

“We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

“It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro's legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.

“But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.

“The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.

“We cannot walk alone. And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead. We cannot turn back.

“There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, ‘When will you be satisfied?’ We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro's basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating: ‘For Whites Only.’ We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until ‘justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream.’

“I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. And some of you have come from areas where your quest -- quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.

“Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends. And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

“I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal. I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.

“I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice. I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

“I have a dream today! I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of ‘interposition’ and ‘nullification’ -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.

“I have a dream today! I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; ‘and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.’

“This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.

“And this will be the day -- this will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with new meaning: My country 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim's pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring!’ And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.

"And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire. Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York. Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania. Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado. Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California. But not only that: Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia. Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee. Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi. From every mountainside, let freedom ring.

“And when this happens, when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual: ‘Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!’”

Amen!

Light and Love

Since today was the Martin Luther King holiday, my friend and I decided to get together to actually observe our day off in a fitting manner. We watched the movie The Butler.

The 2013 movie tells the life story of Cecil Gaines, who serves eight presidents during his tenure as a butler at the White House. Based on a true story, it illustrates how the Civil Rights Movement, Vietnam and other major events affect this man's life, family and American society.

And for my friend Christine and me, it was a shameful reminder of how humans can sometimes act like animals when they are filled with hate.

There were times in my life I thought maybe I hated something or someone, but never, ever to the magnitude we witnessed in the Civil Rights Movement, the Holocaust and probably more examples than I care to recall.

How does one hate another human being so deeply -- for their skin color or religious beliefs or sexual preferences or age and more -- to feel no remorse about abusing them verbally and physically?

It makes me sick. And watching it happen in the movie made me feel quite fortunate that even though I was born when this Civil Rights violence was happening, I did not have to live it. I treasure Dr. King's quote above and feel so blessed that I was taught at a young age to respect others.

All others.

Doesn't mean I'm perfect. Not by far. While I try to be a loving and kind person, I still get judgmental now and then. Let the wrong characteristic impact my opinion of a person. But I don't ever hate. There's no place for that.

Not on MLK Day or any day.