Wednesday, December 10, 2014

Scattered Thoughts in the Midst of Our Chaos

Let me start by saying that I find conversations about the intersection of race and society fascinating, but rarely do I say anything in public because, well, I am the face of privilege.  I am a white, male, married, Christian, son of two educated people.  I may not have started the race in the front row, but I am not very far back.  And because of the situation I was born into, I have an incredibly difficult time imagining what life is like for someone like Michael Brown or Eric Garner.  I have never believed that the police would treat me unfairly, and even when I have broken the law, never once have I feared for my life.

But, if we are to believe the shared experiences of our brothers and sisters of color, that is the reality for nearly all of them living in this country.  In seminary I remember my friend Vincent telling me that if he dressed the way I did (hooded sweat shirt, blue jeans, and a Cincinnati Reds hat) and walked through a parking lot, he would hear car doors lock as he walked by, and the minute he entered the mall, security would be keeping an eye on him.  I told him that I didn't believe him and when he exagerates he loses his credibility.  But then Marty and John and Deion started telling their own stories of similar events where they were stopped by the police because they "looked suspicious" and followed around stores because they "looked like they were gonna steal something."  One of them told the story of spending the night in a holding cell after jay-walking.

I simply cannot understand the world that people of color occupy, because even though we may be neighbors, the way society interacts with us is fundamentally different.  I cannot understand how the events in Ferguson led to Michael Brown's death, because that would never happen in the world of privilege.  

One time, in college, when I was selling security systems door-to-door in a secluded, wealthy community, I was stopped by the police for "looking suspicious," and in fairness, I did look suspicious.  But the policeman never raised his voice, he never acted in a way that was threatening; he simply pulled beside me, rolled down his window and asked what I was doing.  He was satisfied with my answer and drove away.  When I think back on that interaction, I thank God that I am white.  
Had I been black, I very likely could have found myself cuffed and sitting in the grass (a recurring theme I hear in stories) while the officer ran my information through the computer, called my supervisor, and made sure I was doing what I said I was doing. 

The more stories I hear coming out of the black community, the more convinced I am that in these most recent non-indictments and in the many that preceded them. our system is failing at the most fundamental level to uphold due process.  

The most fundamental piece of due process is that those with power should not have the advantage over those without it.  For example, the Heisman trophy winning quarterback at your college shouldn't be protected when they violate the rights of an ordinary student.  Rather, in order for the justice system to work (at any level) we must error on the side of the powerless.  This doesn't mean that the powerful are always found to be in the wrong or that they are always convicted, however, it should mean that the victim who is harmed at the hands of the powerful is given every opportunity to seek and receive justice.

When a policeman kills a black child or when a politician is accused of abusing his intern or when a clergy-person is accused of embezzling money from the offering plate they must endure the greatest levels of scrutiny, or the process doesn't work.  If we don't indict the policeman or investigate the pastor, then we are allowing their privilege to short-circuit the system.  And as Christians, we must error on the side of the powerless.  

Now, I wasn't there when Wilson shot Brown.  I wasn't there when the Beavercreek PD shot Crawford.  I wasn't there when Damico choked out Garner.  And I wasn't there when the Cleveland cops shot Rice.  I don't know the totality of training, policy, and mindset that led to the actions taken by law enforcement officials which resulted in the death of four, unarmed black men.  I don't know what previous events led the officers to believe that they were doing the right thing.  And because the grand juries erred on the side of the powerful, none of us ever will.  

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