God is real. And so is racism. By Kelle Brown
God is real. God is alive. Interested. Involved. Loving. Compassionate and gracious. Every moment of our lives, God sustains each of us, even when we fight the Spirit with our human choices and proclivity for divisiveness. Despite human habits of selfishness and control, the Creator continues the momentum of creation to stave off the effects of the habitual violence, apathy and disregard that appears to be so inherent in our world.
God is real, and though many believe otherwise, so is racism.
Though there are people who practice the incredibly effective game of cognitive dissonance, institutionalized racism is indeed a reality. Racism is insidious. Pervasive. Committed. Deadly. It was born to parents called Greed and contrived Privilege. It was raised with a silver spoon in its mouth, objectifying anything that it didn’t choose to call unto itself. Racism looked upon its reflection and fell in love. It married its likeness, gave birth to its likeness, and made narcissism normative.
Racism kidnapped Jesus and made him Scandinavian. Kidnapped Jesus would empower whiteness to fight and kill the people that looked most like his original people. Kidnapped Jesus turned from being a Middle Eastern man to becoming a Gibbs brother, a member of the BeeGees.
Racism is as wide and large and broad as it desires. On Sunday mornings, it joins churches, and maintains the status quo of centering whiteness in worship. It journeys through church bylaws, mission statements, polity and policy. Racism and its siblings Discrimination, Bias, and Prejudice sit in pews looking around for homogeneity, comfort, and recognition. The siblings nervously debate leaving the church at any sign of a shift in power.
Racism chairs the powerful committees, assembles on social action boards, and is implicit in the choices of music, faith formation curriculums, and sacred art chosen to adorn the church’s walls. Racism is real.
Racism is not self-aware and takes up too much space. It often has interpersonal relationships with the other—you know, the two black friends of which many speak—though unchanged and unrepentant in its ways. Racism names itself the victim so it cannot hear the cries of the oppressed over its own wailing, creating terms like reverse racism that aren’t real but seem to alleviate some burden. Racism is painfully ignorant, and doesn’t need to know much, because white supremacy privilege creates whiteness as the standard. Racism connects itself to movements that are offensive, such as neo-nazism, because now it cannot imagine that the folk of color it has kept under its thumb wouldn’t turn around and return the favor. The fear of retaliation pushes those addicted to privilege to radicalism. The fear is also false and displaced, for racism has never asked black folk if it is true, because racism never learned to trust or believe them.
Institutionalized racism sets a cruel metronome of a bizarre rhythm, and requires a tortured dance of so many of us, a quickstep on jagged stones which continues the momentum of white privilege and white supremacy. As Jim Wallis has discovered, and African American and other people of color have known in their bones, racism is America’s original sin. It is sin, and the church is not innocent. Many do not see the need to confess to anything because they are busy writing their own assurances of pardon. With the resurgence of racially-motivated terrorism and overt actions of hate and injustice, God has placed the church in the prime position to dismantle and interrupt the swaying of racism with a joyful dance of inclusion.
And, dance we must. God has been waiting for humankind to decide that we belong to each other, to be drawn together by the Spirit rather than bound to tribalism and division. Time is of the essence, and the church is graciously called to do its dance of inclusion, the dance that began in the ancient church. Our movement together must include truthfulness; there must be deep listening to the voices on the bottom, taking note of them, while committing to making a change. The dance must honor the leader of color for their gifts and graces, and acknowledge that the church must do the work to be hospitable and welcoming to their pastor. There should not be the instant expectation that that minister of color force herself into a mold familiar to the congregation. The dance must include respect, honor, and acknowledgement of the white fragility that often makes impossible a way forward.
There are many challenges to being a pastor of color in a primarily white church. A few dare to be a part of dominant culture churches, and sometimes, fewer are courageous, hopeful, and called enough to become faith leaders in this context. I am one of them.
I feel a great sense of call to my current church community. Many of the people I serve have affirmed me profusely and regularly. Yet, there has been no time in my life that I have had to know God more or rely more heavily on my faith than when became lead pastor at a predominantly white church. My concern is not about present danger. As a middle-aged, African American woman in ministry who has overcome many struggles, I have discovered that my safety isn’t my primary goal. True discipleship is never about security or comfort. I understand well the risks of following my call.
Rather, my daily need for God in Jesus Christ lingers in the reality that many white people have not had to be self-aware; therefore, well-meaning racist people don’t believe their engagement with me could be racist. Racism is prejudice, discrimination and power mixed. Up under the resistance is the awareness that white privilege believes itself to be the one with the authority to name, for the ability to name infers dominance.
It is also true that calling out racism and tending to the dismantling of white privilege places the black pastor in the white church context into the proverbial crosshairs, for one of the things I learned quickly is that being called racist is considered worse than being racist.
As an African American woman, though I am often the most knowledgeable person on the dynamics of racism, and the one who has the practical experience, I cannot lead the conversation, or do the work for the congregation, particularly when I am one of those who desire a seat at the table. There will always be the reality that as a Black woman faith leader, I will work to encourage the dismantling of racism while experiencing racism first-hand.
It is necessary to point out the inequities of the status quo, or else anything I aspire to do will be measured by a metric and standard that does not fit or account for the congregation’s lack of experience under the leadership of a person of color. It’s not that the leadership is different, but that the perception of that leadership may not be challenged as to potential bias and unfamiliarity.
This work of inclusion is not for the faint of heart. It does take heart, for the dance is hard and unrelenting in its frenzy. For clergy of color, particularly African American pastors, there will be constant reminder that our calls to dominant culture churches are dynamic and often challenging. And, there will be blessings and surprising shows of God’s hand in every circumstance. Our connection in the church, and our commitment to each other, can heal the chasm of hundreds of years that have left much of the church estranged from one another.
Therefore, there is no sadness in my soul. All will be well. I lead with creativity, imagination, and maintain a sense of wonder. With joy in my heart, I minister with God as my helper, gathering friends and partners along the way. More than trying to change anyone, I offer lots of mirrors, keep myself open to feedback and being held accountable, and remain thankful for the measure of grace that God gives. Without fail, God reminds me that the church of which I am a part is healing ground, and that I am called to be my authentic self and that I am enough. I speak into the universe one of my favorite quotes, “There is something in every one of you that waits and listens for the sound of the genuine in yourself. It is the only true guide you will ever have,” and remember that the Spirit is faithful.
Kelle Brown is ordained in the Presbyterian Church (USA) and recently accepted the call as Lead Pastor of Plymouth Church United Church of Christ in downtown Seattle, Washington. She is a graduate of Spelman College, received her Master of Divinity from Seattle University Seattle School of Theology and Ministry, and is completing her Doctor of Ministry from San Francisco Theological Seminary. Kelle works tirelessly on dismantling racism and other forms of oppression. One of her major concerns is enlarging the voice of those most disenfranchised and marginalized, and she is proud to have been chosen as a faith leader to participate in Seattle U’s new Center for Religious Wisdom and World Affairs concerned with issues for those experiencing homelessness. She sings, writes, and enjoys family time with her grandmother, Dorothy, and her daughter, Indigo, a student at the University of Washington.