Social Justice

What justice looks like

Murder Victim’s National Memorial Ribbon, by 23USNRETE7 (Own work) [CC0], via Wikimedia Commons

This morning, I read this fantastic piece by Shawn Smucker over at A Deeper Story. What makes it good is not that Shawn’s bragging about being more noble and being the perfect white ally. It’s good because he’s confronted his own thinking and made real change.

This is what justice looks like.

If every single one of us did what Shawn did–examine our own motivations and actions–we could alter the whole system. We could make a place that’s safe for everyone. It doesn’t take much, really, to begin. We don’t have to start with protest marches. If you’re at that point, then by all means, go ahead and join in the activism. That’s needed too. But maybe you are someone who needs to start smaller. Maybe you just need to start by noticing. Shawn writes,

I probably wouldn’t have noticed these boys before. Probably would have just drove [sic] on by. But it will be a long time before I see a young black man walking down the street and don’t notice, a long time before I don’t think of Trayvon Martin.

That’s one thing that has changed for me, too. When I was at the store the other day, I was in a long line. Ahead of me was a grandmother and a five-year-old boy. As we waited, I chatted with his grandma about little boys and girls and how wonderful they are. The little boy was sitting in the cart behind a giant box. He peeked around it and grinned at me. I told him I thought the box was the best part, and he agreed. Then he showed me his teeth and said he had two brand-new ones; he asked if I liked them, and I assured him that I did. Like many kids his age, he was completely irresistible in his cuteness, concerned only with being a “big kid” and as yet untainted by the world. He wasn’t yet worried that a white lady might not like him, might not be a safe person for him to talk to in the store, might judge him or avoid him based on the color of his skin. To him, I was just the nice woman who liked his grown-up teeth. After they left, I couldn’t help thinking about the young man he will one day become and the survival skills he will need.

That’s not the world he should have to live in.

Little boys should be able to grow into men without worrying that the clothes they wear could brand them as being “suspicious” or “hiding something.” They should be able to walk home from the store or a friend’s house without being stopped and questioned by police. They should be able to express their grief over a court ruling without people assuming the next step is rioting and violence.

Like Shawn, I notice more now. I’ve had a tendency to believe that as long as I was doing my best to not be a jerk, I was doing okay. It’s not quite enough, though, because avoidance of negative behaviors and beliefs isn’t the same as exhibiting positive ones. My interactions with the little boy at the store made me consider that. Engaging him in conversation, looking into his eyes, I saw him; I understood a little bit about what he likes (being big and talking and making boxes into hiding spaces). I don’t want to forget that moment, because the minute I forget, I allow myself not to notice people. I allow myself to go back to not being a jerk instead of actively being kind and loving. I fail to ask what it’s like to live in someone else’s shoes.

I don’t want to forget about Trayvon Martin, either.

What would it take for you to really notice people and to think about them differently from the way you did before? Would it take talking to them and learning about what they like, what they know, and what they hope for? Would it take seeing their potential to do amazing things? Shawn recounts the story of a local young man making a heroic rescue. His closing paragraph contains the following sentence:

I’ve never driven past a young black man on the street and thought, He could be a hero.

What about you? Have you ever had that thought pass through your mind? I can’t help wondering how the world would be different if every time we saw a young person–any young person, regardless of who that person is–we saw that person’s capacity for goodness and heroism.

When that day comes, surely we will see true justice.

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This week’s post is part of the Creative Buzz Hop at http://penpaperpad.com and http://gettingliteral.com. The theme this week is “justice.” Go visit either of the links above to read more.

The violence of assumptions

Racism

We don’t live in a “post-racial” society.

I was saddened and disappointed by the verdict in George Zimmerman’s case; I wasn’t surprised. It makes me angry that I wasn’t surprised. That says to me that we white people who are upset (and there are a lot of us) haven’t done enough to be allies. We haven’t done enough to effect real change. We haven’t listened well enough.

That said, I was also disappointed by the response I saw from a number of people. Oh, of course there was the usual racist garbage, usually followed by “but I’m not racist!” That was to be expected as well. What bothered me was the reaction from my fellow Christians who typically don’t spout that kind of crap.

There’s this thing in a lot of Christian spheres where grace is reinterpreted to mean “don’t get too angry.” I was shocked and appalled by the number of Christians exercising this principle and fretting about angry mobs and people going ape-shit over the verdict, rioting and burning things to the ground. This is disturbing on a number of fronts.

First, it’s racist. Yes, really. The assumption that Black people who were justifiably upset and angry were at high risk for violence is a cornerstone of racist thinking. It reduces people to savages who can’t control themselves in the face of bad news. Naturally, white Christians, with all the talk of grace and mercy, are precisely the people to be the saviors of the barbaric brown world. You know, even if the thought occurred to you that there might be riots, it’s probably best to keep it to yourself instead of jumping all over people who express their anger. That is, if you don’t want to be considered racist, anyway.

Second, I have no idea why anyone thinks angry tweets and Facebook statuses are some indication that riots are imminent. Seriously? Ask yourself this: Are you personally capable of being angry about something without rioting? If you answered yes to that, then perhaps you should give others the benefit of the doubt. It’s the same slippery slope argument that logically fails to win arguments. One thing does not necessarily lead to another.

Third, posting pictures of protests is not the same as posting pictures of riots. Again, protests are not equivalent to riots. This third thing probably falls into both of the other two categories, but I decided it deserved its own space, given the sheer volume of tweets and statuses referring to the peaceful demonstrators as “mobs” and claiming they’re seeking vengeance.

Fourth, things like “No matter what side you’re on, let’s exercise grace” and “But we don’t know what really happened!” are not helpful. They don’t further the dialogue, they don’t express compassion for those who are hurting, and they don’t serve any purpose except to make the people writing them feel like they’ve done something. Honestly, if you’re worried that people might become violent, is tweeting, “Don’t be violent!” actually going to stop them? It may not be intended to silence the oppressed (though that’s debatable), but it sure does come across that way. The first thing to say to a person who is angry about racism (or sexism, ableism, classism, etc.) is not, “Don’t do something you’ll regret!”; it’s “What can I do to help stop this oppression?”

I feel the need to say something here about the anger people are expressing. It’s relevant not only to this situation but to any time people talk about oppression. This is not the same as being angry because someone ate the food you were saving or borrowed something without asking and put it back in the wrong spot. This is not the same as being angry with your kid for getting in trouble at school or your spouse for totaling the car by rear-ending someone. This is not the anger of misunderstanding between friends or of unmet expectations at work. Anger over oppression does not need to be monitored on the Internet because of some bizarre urge on the part of certain Christians to play Sin Police. In fact, anger over oppression is the very thing we Christians should be angry about right alongside the oppressed.

I am not condoning violence, though I do understand where it comes from. I just want to make it clear that it isn’t our job to keep tabs on Twitter hashtags to make sure that everyone knows that violence is wrong. Sometimes, when we don’t have anything to contribute, it’s just better to stay back and allow people with a vested interest to express their grief and anger. It’s not necessary to preemptively chastise people because you’re afraid of what might happen in the future.

This is a time to mourn with those who mourn. If you can’t muster righteous indignation, then at least have the decency to pour your energy into compassion for Trayvon Martin’s family. That’s a more productive use of your time than chasing strangers on the Internet to tell them you’re worried they might do some unspecified wrong or violent thing out of anger. And if you can’t even manage that much, then just stay away from the subject. That’s what the block button is for.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

If you’re thinking of coming on here and tone-policing or word-policing me or anyone else, please restrain yourself.

The tone policing needs to stop

Feminism

Courtesy of A.V. Phibes, http://www.evilkid.com/licensing/sadkitty/pages/home.html

I follow Stuff Christian Culture Likes on Facebook, and the other day, Stephanie linked to this post: Are Christian Feminists Hurting Their Cause? If you would like to feel the rage along with me, just click that link. Also, Sarah Moon wrote a brilliant response, which you can read here. I normally think that when someone as cool as Sarah writes something as dead-on as that, there’s no need for me to follow up–I just link to it in my Friday “best of” post. But when something sucks as hard as Mike Duran’s post, the more people saying so the better.

Actually, I don’t really want to rehash Mike’s words and explain how ridiculous they are. There’s no need; they speak for themselves. What I want to talk about is the specific thing he did that just makes me want to throw heavy, breakable things at the nearest wall: tone policing.

I’ve endured my fair share of tone policing. It annoys me because it derails the conversation. If you want to argue with a point I’ve made, then do so–but don’t come over here to tell me, “If you’d said it this way instead, I would have agreed with you!” If you have time to comment on my blog about my tone or individual words I’ve used, then you have time to go write your own thing about the same topic, using any words you like.

What I’ve discovered is that it doesn’t really matter how “nice” I am or whether I use a specific configuration of words. There will always be people who simply don’t agree or don’t like what I’ve said. Demands to say things a certain way reduce vital conversations about people’s humanity to some kind of polite disagreement about whether or not those people deserve respect, particularly within religious communities. For example, when women are oppressed by patriarchal systems within the Church, politely requesting that it stop merely leads to continuation of that system by way of “agreeing to disagree.” It works with other forms of oppression, too.

I also find it frustrating when people try to bring Jesus into the tone policing. I’m sure you know what I mean–that thing where people tell you that Christians are “nice” about things. Guess they forgot the part where Jesus called the religious leaders a “brood of vipers” or that time he upended the money changers’ tables or that incident with the fig tree. (Ironically, these same people seem to love literal readings of Revelation where Jesus wields a sword; go figure.) It goes hand-in-hand with a faulty reading of “turn the other cheek” wherein being nice becomes a way to prove to your enemies that you can win the holier-than-thou fight.

There is absolutely nothing wrong with being nice or polite or carefully measuring one’s words. That’s a natural part of some people’s personalities. It’s not good form, however, to point to those people and ask, “Why can’t you be more like her?” If those are the people you are drawn to, then why are you here (or on any other blog written by someone who is naturally less gentle)? I love discussing issues; I do not love discussing specific words or phrasing or tone. Come here to challenge what I’ve said, not how I’ve said it.

Mike Duran has two choices. He can either stop reading Christian feminists he doesn’t like and ignore us, or he can be truthful about the fact that he doesn’t agree with some of the arguments being made. In his blog post, he did neither of those things–he tone-policed the comments on a months-old piece that nearly all of us (Christian feminists) agreed was a horrifying example of abuse apologism. Of course, what it really seems like is that he just doesn’t agree with us, so he’s avoiding coming right out and saying it by criticizing our tone instead. After all, he does say in his introduction,

While I think it’s pretty clear Scripturally that Men and Women were designed to complement each other and that, in that union, men were called and equipped to lovingly lead, I also believe there’s far too much evidence (both Scriptural and sociological), that women are entirely capable of leading men and teaching men, exercising equal authority, and pretty much occupying any office or role that a man could. That said, the longer I remain here and watch the debate escalate, the more I’ve found myself inching to one side.

Mike and others just need to be honest rather than using “how [we] come off” as an excuse to disagree. Meanwhile, I’m going to go adjust my comments policy to reflect my distaste for tone policing.

A love letter

LGBTQ+, Social Justice

I had something else in mind to write for today, but, as sometimes happens, things changed. Today, I’m writing a love letter to my friends and family.

Dear Ones,

I was just about to write my blog post when I happened to get distracted by Facebook (I know you’re all shocked by this). It took me a minute, and then I saw that my timeline was exploding with the news that DOMA is dead. I can’t tell you how happy this makes me and how proud I am of all the people who have put time and effort into making this happen.

I know, I know. There are some really sad things happening too, and we shouldn’t forget that there are still forms of bigotry in this country. We also need to acknowledge that, on some level, even this victory has a tinge of bittersweetness–it didn’t guarantee rights for everyone, just those in the 12 states where marriage is already legal. Even so, I’m rejoicing with those who rejoice today.

Some of the people reading about the Supreme Court’s decision are going to say hateful, nasty things today. They might spill some of their own anxieties and their own prejudice onto you. They might talk about fighting to have the decision overturned someday. They might talk about how this country has stepped all over the “sanctity” of marriage, as though Marriage has been some unchanging, sacred entity for all of human history. I’m sorry; it’s not right for people to behave like playground bullies when they don’t get their way.

The thing I think people fail to realize is that marriage isn’t a zero-sum game. Your victory doesn’t take anything from anyone else. In fact, I would argue that it makes it stronger. It doesn’t make anyone’s religion or religious ceremony invalid, either. I always find it sort of funny when people talk about things cheapening or demeaning marriage because it’s a holy institution created by God. Sounds like a denial that non-Christians get married all the time and that many same-sex couples are Christians who value the religious sacrament of marriage.

You should also know (and you probably already do) that if you choose not to get married, your relationship is not less-than. It’s not a piece of paper or a government seal or an officiant’s signature or a federal benefit that indicates a commitment. People get married or don’t get married for all sorts of reasons. This just means that if you live in one of the states that recognizes marriage equality, you have some new options available to you. It means that in the future, people in other states will have those choices too.

Today, I will celebrate with you whom I love. I will offer virtual hugs to my loved ones too far away for an actual embrace, and I will continue to hold you in my heart. I will drink to your health and I will “like” your Facebook statuses and read your blog posts. I will honor those who have worked tirelessly for this victory.

Tomorrow, I will get back to work fighting all the other injustice that still surrounds us.

Much love,

“But we’re not all like that!” Part 2

Social Justice, Women

Warning: Sexual harassment and assault

Yesterday, I wrote about how “not all like that” is often code for “I don’t like something about you but I’m trying not to be a jerk.” Today I’m going to talk about a different sort of “not all like that”–the kind that gets defensive when there are people “like that.”

Every day, women put up with (often in silence) all manner of harassment–on the street, on public transportation, in the workplace, in church. Catcalls, leers and jeers, whistles, groping, comments about our bodies, name-calling, angry retorts when we don’t respond. We bear it, usually because someone has told us it isn’t a big deal or that we must have “been sexy that day” or we’re overreacting. We’re made to feel alone, as though we’re the only ones who have ever experienced it, and we must somehow be responsible for it.

I’ve been there. The boy who cornered me and grabbed my breasts until I screamed for help. The classmate who ran his foot up my leg during study hall and whispered dirty things he was going to do to me. The religious authority who forced me to feel his erection. The student in my lab who gave me his assignments with “bitch” and “whore” scrawled at the top. The kid who wrote in my year book his offer to “let” me give him a blow job. The men who whistled at my sister and me on our way to the theater and called out,”Heyyyyy, ladies!” The man in the bar who put his arm around me when I wouldn’t give him my attention.

The problem isn’t just that these men and boys exist. It’s that whenever we talk about it, the automatic response from at least one man will always be, “But we’re not all like that” or “Well, I’m not like that” or “”Men get harassed too, you know.” Well, cheers to you that you’re not like that, but don’t expect me to pat you on the back and give you a gold star for not being a dick to women. Would you like to know some better responses? Here you go:

My God. I’m so sorry that happened to you.

and

Next time I see someone doing that, I’ll speak up.

and

It’s wrong for anyone to be treated that way.

and even

It’s happened to me, too. (Because it does happen to men, and that’s just as shitty, and men shouldn’t be shamed into silence either.)

Unfortunately, too many people believe that these are isolated events perpetrated by a few folks with boundary issues. It’s not, though. Millions of us have experienced these things, and they happen everywhere. I hope that when confronted with the facts, the denial and the shaming and the victim-blaming will unravel. The UK-based Everyday Sexism Project seeks to make that happen, fighting the lie that it’s not common or it’s the fault of the people on the receiving end. I highly recommend following @EverydaySexism and the hashtag #SHOUTINGBACK on Twitter.

Take a few minutes to watch this video (it’s probably NSFW; there’s explicit mentions of specific kinds of harassment, including public masturbation).

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=PBeNfSoMqjY]
Don’t excuse or minimize this behavior; don’t remind me that you don’t participate; don’t play the “what about the men” card. Please just help make a difference.

Geeks for Jesus

Culture, Feminism

By powerbooktrance [CC-BY-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Some time ago, I tweeted about my interest in the relationship between the misogyny in geek culture and the misogyny in Christian culture. I haven’t forgotten about it, and I’m still digging through some things. Something a friend commented on what I shared on Facebook yesterday made me sit up and take notice, because I think it’s relevant.

I linked to this piece about prejudices that continue to appear in films. My friend commented that she wasn’t surprised, as she believes media reflects culture rather than influencing it. Now, I don’t entirely agree–I think there’s a kind of unhealthy symbiosis there–but I do think she’s mostly right. Playing with Barbies doesn’t make little girls want skinny waists and big boobs, but Barbie sure does reflect what little girls are taught to want.

Over time, I’ve seen how Christian culture reinforces many of these norms. For all the talk of being “in the world but not of the world,” there’s an awful lot of blending of church and culture. This includes running a church like a business, creating flashy shows and aiming for being “relevant,” and a capitalist mentality that urges people to give more of their money to a specific church and its programs than to their community’s needs. It’s not surprising to see the same kind of mutually parasitic relationship between church and culture as between media and culture.

I want to continue to explore the subject of geekdom and Christianity in part because I’ve seen a slow progression in the church over the last 20+ years I’ve been involved. When I first became a Christian, the sorts of things one finds at gatherings like Comic-Con were acceptable among adolescents, but still considered fringe. These days, pastors even give sermons on Star Wars, video games, and the latest superhero movies and you can find Christian web sites with geek themes.

I’ve also noticed that a lot of my more conservative religious friends (which is, admittedly, a very small sample of American Christians) really love the just-this-side-of-mainstream geek culture–but only if it’s perceived as not being “evil” in some way (Luke Skywalker but not Harry Potter; Batman but not Buffy). There’s also a failure to examine sexism, racism, and homophobia in any of these worlds. When one holds up the lone female character–who often has to be saved by the men–as an example of “but it does contain women!” there’s something wrong.

It’s hard to tell how the lines ended up blurred. Are churches cashing in on the cultural shift in geekdom becoming at least marginally more mainstream? Are the reinforced gender stereotypes in much of geek culture and in church culture related by more than just the broad category of misogyny? Or is the church just, in a warped sense, welcoming something perceived as an ally in proper gender roles?

I’m interested in your thoughts. If you have something you’d like to say about any of this, my space is open to you. What have your experiences been? I’m leaving it open-ended, so there’s no time limit. If you have something to share, let me know. You can leave a comment or use the contact form.

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