Let's Talk
September 19, 2018
In my most recent post, I shared how inspirational it was to watch the Safe States staff and a few members of the Safe States Alliance pull together a prenominal last-minute closing plenary session for the 2018 Safe States Alliance Annual Meeting. However, some conversations with friends and colleagues last week, coupled with a podcast I listened to and a little self-reflection on my part made me realize that the content of that closing plenary is worthy of more discussion.
The closing plenary featured a “Let’s Talk” conversation with representatives from the Youth Violence Prevention Research Center at the University of Louisville and a clinical psychologist in Charleston who provided assistance to surviving congregation members of Mother Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church after a white supremacist killed nine members of that congregation as they worshipped. Mighty Fine (yes, that really is his name), Director of the American Public Health Association’s Center for Public Health Practice and Professional Development and a Safe States Board member moderated the session. The objective of the session was to have a safe and “comfortable conversation about an uncomfortable topic.”
By all accounts, the closing plenary was a rousing success. In the spirit of full disclosure, I have to admit that my initial reaction to the closing plenary was pride, although the truth is my contributions were minimal. Once I returned to Dallas and had gotten my ego in check, I began a period of self-reflection. One of the questions that Mighty asked the attendees at the closing session was “How often do you have conversations with family, friends or colleagues about race?” The truth is that I often have conversations with my friends and colleagues about race, and other issues that impact nonwhite, non-heterosexuals negatively. The reason is because those conversations are safe and respectful.
An example of this is a conversation I had this week with my friend Angela (who is African American). I was telling Angela about a discussion that I had with white friends regarding the movie “Black Klansman.” Some of my friends had said that the movie made them “uncomfortable.” “The movie didn’t make me uncomfortable,” I said sadly to Angela. “It made me livid that white supremacy behavior existed in the first place and that it still exists today, 150+ years after the Civil War ended and 50+ years after the Civil Rights Amendment went into effect. And, why did we even need the Civil Rights Amendment 100 years after slavery was abolished?” Angela just smiled and said, “Oh Shelli, you’re a white chick. You’re a ‘cool’ white chick, but a white chick nonetheless.” Angela went on to explain that most African Americans have been conditioned not to “make white people uncomfortable.”
I learn so much from Angela and my other friends whose upbringing and circumstances look different than mine. I relish these discussions. I always enter these conversations with anticipation. Possibly, it is because they feel safe. My friend, Mary Ann, always says, “Speak the truth in love.” The thing is that I can trust my close friends and colleagues in public health to do this. Those conversations are easy – not because we always agree, but because they are respectful.
Unfortunately, the same doesn’t hold true for other friends and acquaintances, and it has damaged my ability to engage in conversation with them or even to be in their presence.
Following some mindful leadership training in 2016, I began a process of asking “learning” questions in an attempt to try to understand why the actions and beliefs of my evangelical Christian friends seemed to contradict the Christian qualities and values that I had been taught. During this process, my questions generated raised voices, and more often than not, being told that, “There’s no need for discussion because any opinion that deviates from my viewpoint is wrong.” Not one of these people ever asked me to explain my viewpoint. Zero. Nada. Instead, they questioned my faith and Christianity. These conversations (if you can call them that) left me feeling shamed, judged, and angry. It became increasingly difficult for me to see Jesus’ love or even Christian humanity reflected in the comments or attitudes of these “friends.” Frankly, it’s hard to want to be around people who make you feel that way.
I shouldn’t have been surprised by the tone of these conversations. There had been many, many times in the past when these same individuals had made disparaging comments about groups of people of different races, ethnicities, religions, sexual orientation, etc. In March 2015, an incident occurred at the University of Oklahoma when members of the Sigma Alpha Epsilon fraternity were filmed singing a racially insensitive song that used the “n” word. Let me be clear – I am an Oklahoma Sooner through and through. I have two degrees from the University of Oklahoma (OU), and I bleed “crimson and cream.” But, I was disgusted when I saw that video. In a swift statement, then OU President David Boren denounced the actions of the fraternity and suspended two of the fraternity members identified in the video. The fraternity’s national organization closed the OU chapter. At that time, I was chair of the Injury Control and Emergency Health Services Section of the American Public Health Association. I wrote a column for the Section newsletter also denouncing the actions of the fraternity members and praising President Boren’s swift action, which I posted on Facebook. None of my Facebook “friends” responded directly to my post, but within hours, I began to see posts by many of them making excuses for the fraternity members and criticizing President Boren. Later at a dinner with conservative friends in Oklahoma, they complained about President Boren’s actions. One member of the dinner party made the comment that he didn’t understand why “Blacks are so upset, because things are better now for them than they used to be.”
A few weeks ago, I overheard someone say they are “infuriated” when they hear the term “Black Lives Matter.” For the record, if you are a white person who is offended by the term “Black Lives Matter,” please truly attempt to educate yourself about the social, economic, and political injustices perpetrated against not only blacks, but also others who have suffered injustice as a result of societal norms and laws.
My kneejerk reaction when I hear discriminatory remarks is anger. I want to scream that as white people, we can’t possibly begin to understand the experiences of African Americans. As a heterosexual, I can’t possibly understand the experiences of LBGTQ friends. But, I don’t say anything. I don’t want to “embarrass” the people making the comments. So, I sieve and vow not to be around people who don’t value empathy and inclusion. Out of self-preservation, I quit talking to them.
But the Safe States closing plenary caused me to question my actions. I realized that while I’m willing to have conversations about race, ethnicity, gender, religion, sexuality, etc. with my close friends, I’ve made a decision not to engage with people who have different views because conversations with them are hard and hurtful. This week, I listened to a podcast of Surviving Sarah between the host, Sarah Bragg and her guest, Jen Hatmaker. Both are Christian women who are not afraid to ask questions about their faith. Both women have stated their faith has evolved and strengthened through asking questions and reconciling their beliefs and learning to live within tension.
I’m not as familiar with Sarah Bragg, but I’ve read enough of Jen Hatmaker’s books to know that we had similar childhoods despite our almost 20 year age difference. Like Hatmaker, I had the privilege of growing up as a sanctimonious white, Christian heterosexual. I had the luxury of not having to question my religious beliefs or my sexuality. Granted, there were a few gender equality issues that were incongruent with what my church was teaching versus what I was witnessing at home, but I’ll save that for another blog post!
While I think my public health career and education have influenced my perceptions, I have to give a lot of credit to my parents (and mostly my mother) for giving me permission to be curious about the world that exists beyond my hometown. That curiosity has allowed me to seek opinions beyond what I know. It has intensified my quest to travel and learn about different cultures. My friend, Cary, has said that living outside of the United States among a different culture allowed her the freedom to question the status quo. My curiosity has facilitated my introduction to friends with different backgrounds and experiences. Every one of these people has enriched my life! But while I happily accept diverse, thoughtful opinions, I have been hesitant to listen to opinions that I deem hateful.
The Surviving Sarah podcast, along with the message from the Safe States closing plenary, caused me to question whether my decision to not engage with conservative evangelical Christians is the right decision. If I am going to really practice mindful leadership of learning rather than judging, shouldn’t I reach out to the people who have hurt me and try again to understand their viewpoint? If we are going to bridge the divide, I have to own my role in causing the dysfunction and try to rectify it.
To my African American, Hispanic, Asian, Middle Eastern, Jewish, Buddist, Muslim, Islamic, agnostic, LBGTQ, etc. friends, thank you for being patient with me and helping me learn.
To my conservative Christian friends, I’m open to having a safe and respectful conversation, if you are interested. I want to believe there is more that unites us than divides us. If you want to talk, I’m wiling to try again. I’m ready to listen.