Looking at His Face Maybe for the Last Time: This is Personal

Her story is in the text below, bold and italicized because I think we need to hear her. Shared here only with permission is the story of a woman who loves her husband deeply, knowing that each time he leaves, it may be his last. Her story moved my heart. I hope we can hear it and hear it well, and hear it respectfully. I know this young woman, but have never met her husband. We hope to do so soon. It is the story of many who live in Black America, but more than that, it is her story, her personal story.

Because I think it's important that you know this experience isn't a sensationalized "thing" only brought forth by headlines and bandwagons...

Yesterday in the ...late afternoon, my husband decided he wanted to go visit his cousin in Trinity, TX which is about 30 minutes northeast of Huntsville. I quickly surveyed the time he was leaving, who he would be with, and the time he would potentially get back and politely suggested he should not go or leave earlier. My fear wasn't because he may or may not be drinking. It wasn't fear for him falling asleep on the road. It was for his safety as a black man driving at night.

What if something happens? What if his car breaks down late? How close is Cut and Shoot to where he's going? What is he wearing? He needs to change to look more presentable and not a threat in case something happens.

I prayed silently in my head that he was mindful and not careless even though he's from this small town. I surveyed his face trying to remember all the details and how big and bright his smile is "just in case." And I, as casually as I could, threw indirect reminders to him about being calm and patient on the road with everyone.

He ended up not going, deciding to hang out with his mom and go out with friends that evening. But this is my experience every . single. time. he leaves to go somewhere. If it is outside of the multicultural safety bubble that is our neighborhood, I'm anxious, I pray, and I try to remember his face "just in case."

Again, this fear is ever present no matter that is going on in the political realm, who may or may not be shooting at each other in the news, and what bloggers and sensationalists say in the media. I learned very early on that I needed to act a certain way to be considered a "good black person," and even that did not protect me from discrimination. The world taught me that as a *child*, not a specific person, movement, or ideology.

So, right now during a time of quiet and us not being hit with an onslaught of new stories about this, I hope that some of you, when the next headline comes up (which it will) of a person of color being harmed or discriminated against, that none of our criticisms be a downplaying or minimization of the DAILY stress that comes with being a person of color. If you've never had to memorize your loved one's face before they left for what should be a completely normal and everyday occurence, then you do not have the right to tell me what I should and should not feel.

Say anything else, but not that...

Shena T.

Eddie and Dorothy Wise, Black Farmers, Americans, Justice for Some

One of my tasks with the Black Farmers & Agriculturalists Association is to serve occasionally as fundraiser. Until we get more proficient at this, we use www.gofundme.com.

A couple of years ago we raised some needed funds for a Black Farmers Summit at Howard University, Washington, DC. That event was a success. Contributors were told about their meaningful contributions before that page was taken down.

Now, we have been engaged in another fundraising cause since January of this year. It is a different sort of campaign. It has gotten personal, very personal.

I first met Eddie and Dorothy Wise back in 2005 or so when I first began what has been an amazing relationship with BFAA. At that time Eddie was actively involved in growing sweet potatoes and raising hogs in an environmentally safe manner. All he wanted to do was farm. My respect for him also is based upon his service in the US Army. I have a soldier grandson who is in the US Army. War is more real than ever before.

Their story of mistreatment at the hands of the USDA came next. I was given a copy of the document, "Wise v. Glickman, 2000."  There were multiple failures on the part of the USDA: "the failure to provide loan applications when requested, technical support and assistance in the application process, submission of applications in a timely fashion, information and assistance relative to guaranteed load opportunities, and timely processing of loan applications. The USDA denied loan applications purposefully, and retaliatory actions were taken by the county supervisor. Options for socially disadvantaged farmers in keeping with USDA policy were not offered. The USDA failed to investigate the county supervisor. The couple experienced loss of land, credit, mental and physical health, and public humiliation" (Hinson & Robinson, 2008, page 293.).

They have been removed from their land at gun point, lived in a motel for several months, and, now, she has had her legs amputated.

These and more details are found at https://www.gofundme.com/39m8623g.

Just read the updates. They tell the story.

You'll even see photos of guns held by men in black.

This is America. Land of the free. Justice for some.

Injustice Anywere is Injustice Everywhere: Tennessee and Beyond

There are indeed some strange things happening in Tennessee, the state where my boys were born, where we worked for close to ten years, and where friends and colleagues live now.

They trouble my soul. I am of the opinion that these political maneuvers will sweep the country under the current hyper-conservative leadership in the WH and the states. I hope I am wrong.

Again, this is a long and convoluted post that weaves together three key things, a code of ethics, a state law, and a proposed state law. Please hang in there with me on this one.

In brief, the following subprinciple is in the AAMFT's latest revision to its code of ethics. For those of us who are marriage and family therapists and who are members of the American Association for Marriage and Family Therapists, we adhere to these standards.

AAMFT Code of Ethics

1.1 Non-discrimination.

Marriage and family therapists provide professional assistance to persons without discrimination on the basis of race, age, ethnicity, socioeconomic status, disability, gender, health status, religion, national origin, sexual orientation, gender identity or relationship status.

A couple of years ago, this bill was passed and signed by the governor of the state of Tennessee:

Tennessee SB 1556. Which asserts that (a) No counselor or therapist providing counseling or therapy services shall be required to counsel or serve a client as to goals, outcomes, or behaviors that conflict with a sincerely held religious belief of the counselor or therapist; provided, that the counselor or therapist coordinates a referral of the client to another counselor or therapist who will provide the counseling or therapy.

(b) The refusal to provide counseling or therapy services as described in subsection (a) shall not be the basis for: (1) A civil cause of action; (2) Criminal prosecution; or (3) Any other action by this state or a political subdivision of this state to penalize or withhold benefits or privileges, including tax exemptions or governmental contracts, grants, or licenses.

Finally, this is the bill that is gaining ground in Tennessee as we speak:

SB 0001 proposed by Johnson

Mental Health & Substance Abuse Services, Dept. of - As introduced, prohibits the Board for Professional Counselors, Marital and Family Therapists, and Clinical Pastoral Therapists from adopting any rule that incorporates by reference a national association's code of ethics, including, but not limited to, the American Counseling Association Code of Ethics; revises other provisions related to allowing counselors to not counsel when doing so conflicts with beliefs. - Amends TCA Title 4; Title 49 and Title 63. 

What do all of these mean for those of us who fight for justice. First of all it means that a member of AAMFT and one who is licensed by the State of Tennessee as a marriage and family therapist (or as a member of any national organization such as APA, ACA, or NASW who is also licensed in the state) stand in contradiction to that which is an ethical principle and that which is state law.

Second, it means that literally, based on any "sincerely held religious belief," I can refuse therapeutic services to anyone. The flood gate can open as wide as it wishes.  You are black and I do not treat blacks, you are Muslim and I do not treat Muslims, you are Hispanic and I do not treat Hispanics, you are LGBT and I do not treat LGBTs, you are whatever and I do not treat whatever you are and whatever your issues are if they disagree with mine. I do not treat members of a particular church who hold to particular beliefs, so let me send you on down the line. Or, I have been working with you for a while, and now I discover that you struggle with X, Y, or Z, so let me send you on down the line.

Third, it means that some of our most vulnerable people are being kicked to the proverbial curb and those who do so as they hide behind the laws of a state are committing greater wrongs.

Fourth, these laws set up artificial distinctions as to what a therapist holds personally or not. To draw the line in pretty obvious ways neglects the fact that we have held personal opinions about any number of personal issues that clients bring to the office. As an aside, several years ago it occurred, to me "that no one died and made me king of the universe, so I will walk with people wherever they are." And in the words of a friend a couple of years ago, "I am just tired of having to be right."

Fifth, the State of Tennessee, if indeed the latest bill passes, is now in the business of regulating codes of ethics. It is curious to me that psychologists, social workers, and other mental health professions are not mentioned in this legislation, nor are other licensed professionals in other professions such as nursing, medicine, or whatever. Why has Senator Johnson done the pick and choose notion? Why not attempt to pass a bill that impacts all as listed in the state's occupational code?  My opinion is that to do so would create a fire storm of unbelievable proportions. Instead, the law picks on smaller licensing boards. That, too, is reprehensible.

Sixth, it means that if a vulnerable client catches wind of these laws and all, she or he, young or old, may decide not to seek the therapy needed. Fearful youth, anxious adults, and other vulnerable people will be cast aside because someone in power and privilege listening to a few of us deem the law more important than people. Seems to me that Jesus of Nazareth had something to say about that, and maybe on more than one occasion.

Technically, since I live in Texas, this is not my fight.  Spiritually, as a man of faith, it is my fight. As one who is concerned about social justice, marginalized people, and people receiving a message of "you do not belong," this matters to me deeply.

My hope and prayer is that people who care, who have influence and are willing to use that influence in the great State of Tennessee, will tell these congress persons to stand down. All of God's children deserve equal treatment under the law. The law should leave ethical standards to those who know the most about clinical issues and their obligations toward ethical issues.

Personally, I think legislators should over rule the first law and choose not to pass the second one.

Who Gets to Call Who What: Engaging or Exorcising Our Internal Bigots?

The whole name calling thing has been an obsession of mine for several weeks now. Recently, in an early morning read of the Jesus story, there was a name that somebody was calling somebody. The name? "The Deceiver." Called of whom? Jesus of Nazareth. Called by whom? The Chief Priests and Pharisees. To whom were they using this term, "The Deceiver?" Pilate. And that was to insure that the tomb would be secure. And, a curious text in the Gospel of Mark says that they were afraid of the Man from Nazareth. Curious. A person they feared. One whose death they plotted. At His death and in His tomb, He is called "The Deceiver."

And then I began to wonder, who gets to call who what and when. These days the President is called a lot of names by different folks. Race baiter, turd, coward, liar, village idiot, blowbama, boy, punk husband, and lying Obama just to name a few. Frankly, there are others I respect such as Representative John Lewis, a legend in the arena of social justice, also receives similar verbal taunts, even in his old age.

What occurs to me is that it is "us," whoever "us" is that gets to call "them" names, whoever "them" happens to be.

Name calling helps to draw distinctions and some of those distinctions are more than just superficial name calling, in my opinion.

I remember with much shame the last time I used a racial epithet that is frequently used to describe a race of people. Despite any number of experiences I'd had, my racialized past haunted me and then and there it came out. Without provocation, I used the word N****r in front of someone I cared about and she planted a fork in the back of my right hand and told me never to use that word again. We were in college, in the cafeteria, doing our college thing.

That experience has stayed with me with all of the questions that one would want to ask. Why did I use that word when I found that word to be nauseatingly offensive. From what crevices of my mind did that word and its various associations reside. Why would I use that word when I was offended when my boss earlier in my high school years used the same word toward one of his customers?

There was some emotional excavating that needed to happen.

Many years later, Richard Schwartz wrote a life-changing book, Internal Family Systems Therapy. Thanks to Dr. Eddie Parish for introducing this work, this way of theorizing and doing therapy, and Dr. Schwartz to us at the MFT/ACU community. Later, in 2001 Dr. Schwartz told a riveting story in an article entitled, "Dealing with  Racism: To Exorcise or Embrace Our Internal Bigots." That article is revised and found in IFS: Innovations and Elaborations in Internal Family Systems Therapy.  That story was about when he was compelled to deal with his internal bigots. The scene occurred in front a large crowd of people at a conference. Check out the book or article and he can tell you better than I can.

His theory suggests that we all experience "multiplicity of the mind," that we all have in varying ways, a Core Self, a set of manager parts, a set of exile parts, and a set of fire fighter parts. The Core Self is as we are intended to be, kind, generous, thoughtful, respectful, spiritual. The manager parts are protector parts and they just want to keep us out of trouble, to keep hurt, fear, and rage all under control. Our exile parts are filled with hurt, shame, guilt, humiliation. The fire fighter parts are skilled at protecting us as well. Lest the exile parts lay out our hurt or shame, the fire fighter parts react in some emotionally reactive way that is both distracting and protective and laced with impulsivity, either with words or with actions or both.

What Schwartz suggests and I found for myself was that hidden within us are parts with unique ways of thinking, feeling, behaving, and viewing the world that are often not in my public view. Those parts use demeaning words, phrases, justifications, and the like.  They often mimic words, phrases, attitudes, justifications, and the like that I heard as a child, as an adolescent, and that I still hear and see as an adult.

We are complex and complicated. Who wants to admit to the Self or the world, "I am a racist." No one that I know of. Who wants to say to the woman who checks us out at Walmart, "Oh, by the way, did you know that I am a racist and that I have bad words to say about people of color." Who wants to admit to the congregation on Sunday morning at the altar call, "I have sinned because I am a closet racist and use ugly words to describe people of color including some here in this church." Who wants to say to the person receiving food and clothing at the church facility, "I am prejudiced against people like you who cannot take care of themselves."

No one that I know of.

I believe that people are good, generally speaking.  I also believe that we are made in the image and likeness of God. I do believe that we are fallen people both individually and as a society, and that only in eternity will we be restored to our true selves as God fully intended. Even the worst of us have positive attributes and the worst of us have negative attributes.

So, I am going to explore the inner parts of what makes me me. I am going to continue to embrace those internal bigoted parts and point out that they no longer need to protect me from anything and that they can take on different assignments. I am going to listen to how those parts think, feel, perceive the world, and the words that they use to describe other people. I am going to ease their burdens as they tell their secrets. No need for an exorcism here, just meaningful dialogue, internal dialogue.

This is actually an ongoing process for me as a human being. I do not want to be anything other than what God intended for me to be. I do not want to be overly influenced by society, past or present. I do not want to hear pejorative words coming from my mouth. Seems like the Man from Nazareth even said something about that.

It has helped immensely through the years that people who love and respect me have called me out on symbols that I have used that allowed racist ideas and attitudes to linger beneath their use. That symbolic language thing is a killer. They loved me enough to confront me.

It has also helped immensely that people have schooled me from the inside out and the outside in. The president of BFAA taught me more than I wanted to know about living while Black and farming while Black in America. The vice-president of BFAA taught me more than I wanted to know about the same and more.

I also suspect that these ideas apply to groups within our country. Yes, I think they apply to individuals and that we can embrace rather than exorcising our internal bigots, and that as a society, we would do well within our groups to embrace rather than exorcise our internal bigots.

That way, we might hear less of the name-calling. Race baiter. Boy. Village idiot. Blowbama. Punk husband. You people.  Those people. Their kind.

Thugs. Good for nothin's. Entitled. Lazy. Welfare queen. Chimpanzee. Gorilla.

Sometimes I Let My Thinkin' Do My Talkin'

When I’ve got no words to say
          And the words are flowin’ fast
          When the mood is just not right
          And the moment may not last

I let my thinkin’ do my talkin’.

When the days are long and heavy

          And the hope looks surely gone
          When the lights are pretty dim
          And folks are ponderin’ home

I let my thinkin’ do my talkin’.

When evenin’ turns to night
           And the nights are long and quiet
           When the breathin’ turns to sighs
           And the world just don’t seem right

I let my thinkin’ do my talkin’.

When there seems nothin’ new under the sun

          When people are runnin’ amock
          And the world seems gone astray
          When righteousness has no luck

I let my thinkin’ do my talkin’.

When chaos fills the news

           And the way seems filled with doubt
           When confusion gets louder and louder
           When truth has momentarily lost out

I just let my thinkin’ do my talkin’.

Yes, I just let my thinkin’ do my talkin’.
Yes, Lord, I just let my thinkin’ do my talkin’.
I just let my thinkin’ do my talkin’.

Almost You Talked Me Into It: A Nod to King Agrippa and Paul the Apostle

I sit on my throne of judgement
Listening to your impassioned words
Making sense of them and
They collide with my entitled world.

Almost you talked me into stepping

Down from my safe privileged space
And power to humble myself
Before your King of Kings so you say.

You speak of monumental moments

In your life’s narrative leading to
Telling me that my life
Can find newer meaning if I’ll only come around.

I sit and I listen quietly to these new words

After all I am powerful and you are a prisoner
But your words and your passion are not the same
As I usually hear when sitting up this high.

Almost you talked me into it

Almost but not quite
You gave it a good shot see you later if at all
You go and die and I’ll stay safe and secure here.

He sits on his chair of opinion and privilege

Across the table or before her computer
The words stories and tales of suffering and woe
Reach out to capture his heart, seize her soul.

She hears and does not hear

He sees and does not see
Tormented souls and strife and struggle
Then explains them as before.

You almost talked me into it

Almost but not quite
Your impassioned plea for those people
Landed on my ears but I’ll just see them with old eyes.

Almost you persuaded me to believe in their cause

Almost not quite in their stories
I will stay the same in my insulated world
From my safe space I will name-call blame insult demean.

The least of these

Collides with that which is me
And that which is me
Trumps the least of these.

Almost

Not quite
And so we part
Almost was not enough.

Eyes to See, Ears to Hear

There are two Americas. I live in one. It is the white one. My family and many of my friends live in the same white America. I have friends who live in another America, black America. They tell me it is not the same America that I live in. These friends are forced in many ways to be bi-cultural, that is, to live in both Americas, the white one and the black one. 

The idea of bi-culturalism fits for my American Indian friends.  The research there says that the healthiest of outcomes for AI people is to live comfortably by going back and forth between the two and to have a strong identity with their AI heritage.

Perhaps we can talk about those things later.

For now, we live in a post-election era unlike any other. Sure, when President Obama was elected there was the obligatory protesting with offensive signs and behaviors and all. The signs of these times are written all about us, if we have eyes to see and ears to hear, to borrow a phrase or two from Jesus of Nazareth.

While these opinions on this page are my own, and not that of anyone else, I have asked a few questions. White friends have told me that Obama is a race-baiter and has made things worse for race relations. That is a phrase that comes from a lot of folk, family and friends. I have asked other white friends and they have said that they think the election has made things more polarized and painful to watch for all people, particularly for people of color and other marginalized groups.

More specifically, I have asked friends who are African American how they see things. I trust their perspectives. They unanimously said that discrimination and racism have always existed, something they feel, and that it is now more frequent and intensified. Nobody would ever explain these friend to friend conversations as any kind of social science, survey, valid and reliable sort of thing.  Will save that for the real social scientists.  However, when my friends tell stories of their "friends" coming at them with hateful, vitriolic notions, and when they see and feel people they care about being called "N****r" and other insulting things, it all sounds pretty real to me. When the parents have to have "the talk" with their adolescents, it is a sign of the times multiplied.

Just this week the Washington Post published a summary of episodes of violence in the post-election aftermath. You can see that here.  "Ten Days After: Harassment and Intimidation in the Aftermath of the Election" by the Southern Poverty Law Center is also compelling.  You can read that here. The dominant themes of anti-immigrant, Black, Muslim, LGBT, woman, and Semitism, as well as white nationalism and anti-Trump  rhetoric are disturbing. Nearly 900 incidents have been chronicled as to what, by whom, toward whom, and location.

When the president-elect campaigned by using vitriolic, offensive language and has refused to acknowledge such, that is just beyond believability. Read this piece about his rhetorical style and its impact on audiences.  It seems to me that people have now found validation of harmful attitudes and actions.

Without much hesitancy, I can say that most people who will review this post are not in the category of offenders.  We are, however, in the category of defenders or in the category of the silent.

So, I ask you to speak out against hate speech and actions.  Speak to your representatives in congress at both the state and national level. Lobby with the president-elect and the vice-president elect to speak out against peoples' inhumanity to people. Bring these issues up wherever you hang out with people, church, civic groups, or wherever.

At another level, it seems to me that we can speak out for people.  Sometimes they are in the words of the man from Nazareth, the "least of these," and at all times, the victims of these heinous things are people for whom Christ died. Those who are on the receiving end of these acts of verbal and physical violence also have families. Surely the pain of the one traumatized reaches out to the family and loved ones of the traumatized.

Those words, "the least of these," popped out at me in my early morning reading and reflection time this morning. The words are inescapably on the lips of the man from Nazareth as He approached His own death.

I think we have an obligation to speak up and speak out in actions loud and in actions quiet. After all, we are all people for whom Christ died, and as such, we are all obligated to treat people with dignity and respect. Let us not meet aggression with silence. That would be wrong. Very wrong.

Lord, I'm Thankful for a Thing or Two

Lord, I’m thankful for a thing or two
Wife and my kids and my dog are some
Just need to keep thankin’ till my days are done.
Yes, I’m thankful for a thing or two.

Lord, I’m thankful for a thing or two

Friends down here and friends over there
Without those friends, I’d be nowhere.
Yes, I’m thankful for a thing or two.

Lord, I’m thankful for a thing or two
Wrong in the world keep me up all night
Lookin’ for change to make it all right.
Yes, I’m thankful for a thing or two.

Lord, I’m thankful for a thing or two

High ideals buried deep in the heart
All come from You right from the start.
Yes, I’m thankful for a thing or two.

Lord, I’m thankful for a thing or two

Right to vote and to take a stand
Trying to get it right as much as I can.
Yes, I’m thankful for a thing or two.

Lord, I’m thankful for a thing or two

Stories of old that make us cry
Hope for the future lest we die.
Yes, I’m thankful for a thing or two.

Lord, I’m thankful for a thing or two

Thanksgiving Day is drawin’ near
Hope for justice maybe this year.
Yes, I’m thankful for a thing or two.

Lord, I’m thankful for a thing or two

Food on the table, hands will cling
Thanks to you we might even sing.
Yes, I’m thankful for a thing or two.

Lord, I’m thankful for a thing or two

For vision that inspires, for hope within
For faith in humanity again and again.
Yes, I’m thankful for a thing or two.

Lord, I’m thankful for a thing or two

Coffee in the morning, and time with you
Reading through the Book and other things, too.
Yes, I’m thankful for a thing or two.

Lord, I’m thankful for a thing or two

Waking each day with my wife, my bride
Feeling inspired with her by my side.
Yes, I’m thankful for a thing or two.

Lord, I’m thankful for a thing or two

Friends out east friends out west
Workin’ real hard and get no rest.
Yes, I’m thankful for a thing or two.

Lord, I’m thankful for a thing or two

Justice is hard and it comes real slow
Keep on workin’ with little to show.
Yes, I’m thankful for a thing or two.

Lord I’m thankful for a thing or two

Justice is worth it, those sleepless nights
Injustice is wrong, keep the right in sight.
Yes, I’m thankful for a thing or two.

Lord, I’m thankful for a thing or two

Grandsons five, young and older
Just now walking, with a gun now bolder.
Yes, I’m thankful for a thing or two.

Lord, I’m thankful for a thing or two

A life now lived with minimal regrets
Looking to the future as sun soon sets.
Yes, I’m thankful for a thing or two.

Lord, I’m thankful for a thing or two

Things to read and words to write
Justice to stir to continue the fight.
Yes, I’m thankful for a thing or two.

Lord, I’m thankful for a thing or two

People who are called to walk beside
Feeling disregard, trying to stem the tide.
Yes, I’m thankful for a thing or two.

Lord, I’m thankful for a thing or two.

Lord, I’m hopin’ for a thing or two.
Yes, I’m hopin’ for a thing or two.
Yes, I’m thankful for a thing or two.

Protest, Dissent, and the Gospel, Part Two

Protests take many shapes and sizes and names.  Some are loud with hundreds or even thousands of people.  Some are community driven. Some are a solo walk.  Some take the form of refusing to buy products from various companies, or to shop in certain stores. All are principle-driven, and those principles are as varied as are our people.

As for me, I want there to be principles and an over-arching principle.  I want to be able to look in the Creator’s face and explain why I will protest some things and not others. Because of that, I lean toward a social justice orientation. That’s what the prophets did when they shouted from the mountaintops about the rich getting richer at the expense of the poor and a variety of other things. 

Along with saving us from ourselves, Jesus was the Divine Provocateur.  He could not bring His message to the world without upsetting the social and religious order of things. Sometimes he did his provoking in quieter surroundings like speaking to the woman at the well who was most likely marginalized by the other women in the community given her serial marriage situation.  Sometimes he spoke in more public settings like with the woman caught in the act of adultery when she was dragged before him but not the man with whom she was having sexual intercourse. Then there is the most public scene when he cleared the Temple of those who were polluting it.  The story is told twice, once in John 2 and the other in Mark 11. Did it happen twice or just get written into the text at two places? Either way, he made a serious public scene, driving the buyers and the sellers out, turning over the tables of the money changers and the benches of those selling doves, and he “would not allow anyone to carry merchandise through the temple courts” (Mark 11: 16).  The disturbance was so profound that the chief priests and the teachers of the law heard about it and began to look for ways to take Him out.  They realized that the crowd was mesmerized by Him and they had to go slow.

Look at where it got Him. For some of us, our protests lead to “unintended consequences.” For Jesus of Nazareth, He knew where it was leading. He told His followers several times until it finally sunk it, afterwards. I do not pay with my life when I voice opinions and beliefs. I may lose friends or wind up being avoided in certain settings, but I do not die for what I believe. Maybe I do not protest loudly enough.

At my house, we are not terribly rowdy.  We generally are mindful of our speech, tone, and words. We have friends and family who are much more vitriolic than we are. We do, however, care very deeply about things.  We protest in our own ways with our votes and our words. At the most basic of levels, we desire for our attitudes about protest and things we protest to matter to the one who protested at the highest levels and paid the most significant cost.

Protest, march, speak up, hold your coins, and other matters and let your decisions voice your principles. That way, we honor those who have come before us and we remain true to our convictions. That is the American way. That is the human way.

Protests, Dissent, and the Gospel, Part One

I have been thinking a lot about dissent and protest of late, probably much like a lot of people here in our country. Protests abound left and right, and now, it seems that there are more and that they are incredibly intense.  We do not have to wonder why, do we?

We go off on royal tears verbally and emotionally when we see a quarterback for a professional football team protesting by sitting or kneeling during the playing of the National Anthem. We are further outraged when we see other athletes from Pop Warner football to high school to colleges to professionals doing the same. For many of us it is difficult to grasp the notion that someone can love their country and see its filthy rags at the same time and want things to be better. Some put their money where their values are, including that QB with his spending a lot of money to coach kids on justice related matters, and others who donate significant dollars to enhancing relationships between law enforcement and their communities. Some of my family and friends see the world in distinct categories, black/white, right/wrong, and vote and voice accordingly. I am deeply puzzled as to why they vote the way they vote, and, perhaps, they are equally troubled by the way I think and write.  There are, in my opinion, distinctions of gray.  Love something and desire for it to become better. Want to stay in America and see its warts.  No need to send anyone back to anywhere. We live where we live and we value what we value and we see what we see. And we experience what we experience, for better or for worse. As for me, I want to be a patriot, not a nationalist. There are differences.

Against the backdrop of American history, according to Time, there have been ten significant protest movements.  These are the Boston Tea Party, Civil Rights, Women’s Suffrage, Antiwar, Gay Rights, the Labor Movement, Black Power, Antiglobalization, The Tea Party, and Occupy Wall Street. And while those are huge, and have obviously led to immense change in our country, there are more. Check out this link for more details:  http://content.time.com/time/specials/packages/article/0,28804,2096654_2096653_2096692,00.html. Some of us undoubtedly have lived through some, most, or all of them. Some I remember and experience very vividly, some I care more about now than then, and others will come along.

Dr. James Downs, history professor at Connecticut College, author of numerous books and articles, has studied the history of protests in America. In his article found at , http://www.slate.com/blogs/outward/2016/11/17/trump_protests_have_reinvigorated_the_american_radical_tradition.html  he asserts that “protests have throughout history given people a voice when they did not have the vote.”  The title is alone compelling, “The Trump Protests Have Reinvigorated the American Radical Tradition.” He should know. This included antebellum women who spoke up in a male dominated world and condemned slavery, speaking against its unspeakable violence to enslaved Africans, and then freed slaves pushed the Republican Party to advocate for their causes of citizenship and voting rights. So, protests in this current day and age should not come as a surprise. Neither are we to be surprised when the right has its agenda and the left has its agenda, and those of us betwixt and between have our agendas. We cannot not have an agenda. To have no agenda is to have an agenda.

Who can forget the abolition movement and the price for freedom for enslaved Africans? Any movement has its price and its glories.

These days as we live in the post-election cycle of things, protests are happening with frequency and intensity. People are dismayed at who we elected in this country, that he did not win the popular vote but won the electoral college vote, and his campaign has been dominated by bigotry, racism, sexism, hate-filled rhetoric, and demeaning attitudes toward gays, blacks, Latinos, Muslims, women, people with disabilities and others. Disparaging attitudes, suddenly discovered audio and video tapes, and revelations of assaults upon children and women abound.

Most of the protests and marches have been civil, some have not been. That’s always unfortunate when protests turn violent or destructive. Who can approve of that?

We forget, however, that the same thing occurred after President Obama was elected. All it takes is a brief google search to see effigies hanging with nooses around their necks burning, insults about Kenya and his place of birth, and numerous other images related to his race.

So, protests are nothing new and they will be around for as long as there are people and as long as we have voices that are unheard and unappreciated.

Advocacy, Medical Care, Me, and Them

Several of us are involved in a new venture that you'll find over at www.regenerativeoutcomes.com. It appears to be cutting edge and justice-filled.  Some wonder why I am doing it.  Others know once they find out.  No, it is not a job. It is a consulting position that is designed to shape various matters.  For me, in short, those are matters of justice.  For my way of thinking, practices that work should work for all of God's children, not just those who can afford it. More on that later.

My own personal health narrative the last few days connects with a story I heard in 2005, one that plays out in my heart and mind frequently. 

The larger theme is advocacy and who gets to do it.  Story number one happened in 2003.  After a routine colonoscopy, 9 days later, I experienced a near life-threatening bleed out.  My wife advocated for me after my efforts failed.  The MD on call said to me, "Drink lots of fluids, and call your doctor in the morning."  Charla said no, that is not enough, so she called my internal medicine doctor at home.  He said go immediately to ER.  She advocated for me. At ER, the nurse said, "We have been looking for you." Dr. Hubbard advocated because Charla advocated, and I was immediately taken to an exam room.  The nurse then said after a bloody episode, "That is what he meant," as the lights, sounds, and everything else went dark.  Blood pressure was 39/13.  I could have been dead at any number of points and places had all of them not advocated for me.

Two years later, I was in Georgia, in a farmer's single-wide out on his property under an huge oak tree, on a country lane named for his deceased wife.  Against the narrative of his mistreatment at the hands of the USDA, there emerged a powerful subtext in his story, the inadequacy of medical care. All thought she had a problem with asthma.  He thought it was more than that, or not that.  His physician was convinced and treated her accordingly.  She was wrong and her patient, the wife of the man I was interviewing, died of a heart attack. His attempts at advocacy did not work. I am haunted by the why of it all.

Over the last few days, a third story.  As my own personal symptoms intensified, I knew what the problem was.  I had read the literature.  Times of acute stress impact the immune system, opportunistic infections set in, and for me this is allergies which turn to allergic rhinitis and then to bronchitis and at least on one occasion to pneumonia.  Charla remembers that one and she reminded me of it.

In order to stay ahead of the symptoms because I knew where they were leading, I checked in to a walk-in clinic and met with the routine set of folks, front desk person who took my basic information, the nurse who checked my vitals, and then the ER physician who reviewed my chart, hid behind statistics and the general scope of things for people with my symptoms.  "You have a cold, and it will follow it's course over the next seven to ten days.  If it does not, come back."  And, no prophelactic medications.  "This is not a cold.  This is how it rolls out for me." Nothing.  No voice. No listening. His mind was made up. He turned and walked out. I quipped to the staff as I left, "Well if I get well, I won't see you, but if I get worse, I'll see you then." We chuckled. I was mad.

Then I took my health into my own hands and made an appointment with my previous family practice physician the next day in another city and another state.  When he and I sat in the same consultation room after a lengthy wait and vitals and all, he asked, "So what are we in for?" I rattled off signs and symptoms and history and all since this was not my first rodeo of health with him.  He listened, read through his electronic chart, and said something like, "Well, I think you are correct."  He then wrote the script, brought it back, and told me that a nurse would be in shortly with the injection.

Why am I boring you, my readers with these stories?  Simply put, this is about justice, advocacy, and privilege.  It is unjust when people have no voice in their own treatment.  Afterall, who knows their bodies better than themselves?  Who knows medical science other than the doctors and nurse?  Whose obligation in the name of patient care and justice is it to weave the two together?  Theirs, the medical providers.  My obligation is to my own health narrative and to speak it in ways that can be understood and respected. Their obligation is to hear that story and out of her or his competencies to engage in a meaningful, though certainly short dialogue with diagnosis, prognosis, intervention, and outcome, real or potential.

Justice demands that people have a voice in concerns that matter to them.  I am a 67 year old white male, who though born very, very poor, who has learned to speak.  As a white male, my voice matters more to some than others and matters more than others to some people and institutions. One person of power and privilege minimized my voice and hid behind his doctor stuff.  I walked out mad and knew he was misguided. This discourse came to a screeching halt. If I followed his decisions, I would soon have pneumonia.  Another voice of power and privilege, another male doctor, listened quickly and respectfully to my story of signs and symptoms, and the story was there in his electronic health record.  Today I am feeling much, much better than I would have if I'd stayed in the voiceless mode with doctor number one.

My story is one of reasonable good health for a person my age.  Charla has a husband who is alive. We speak up and more often than not people listen, and when someone does not listen, we advocate for ourselves and move on to Plan B.

My friend in Georgia and his wife had no voice.  He is a widow.  His wife is dead though living in his memory.  He lives beneath the gigantic oak tree that stretches over the lane named after his wife.

What makes for voices heard and voices unheard?  Is it skin color?  Is it gender? Is it age?  Is it money? What is it, and how does it come to be or not be?

I am realizing that I am, simply put a 67 year old, white male with privilege who is a storyteller at heart. Stories of the gospel, stories of justice and injustice, and all manner of other things are written in my DNA.  I cannot not tell the stories.

Thank you for reading these three stories.  They are all personal in different ways. My prayer for readers is that you will engage your story, the stories of others, and do you best to make the world a better place in your  corner of the world, one story told, one story heard, one story that matters at a time. All stories matter, yours and theirs.

The Prayer of a Troubled Bystander

This is a personal peek into my inner world. It may resonate or it may offend. Feel free to leave comments.

 

Dear God:

You have observed my quietness of late, no doubt. You have listened to my inner struggles and angst and torment.  You have heard my unarticulated cries of grief and pain.  You have known of my inability to place things in their proper order. Yes, you have known the roads I have trod.

I am not alone in this struggle. Many, many more are dismayed, troubled, tormented, and, yes, even terrorized, by these last few months.  Neither they nor I have much hope for anything better in the days ahead.  In fact, my suspicions are that things will worsen.

I am a divided man down to the deepest parts of me. While I know that in the olden days, a piece of humanity was seen through the eyes of Hebraic holism, and no one part was separated out from another part, though in the psalms we see much emotion, pain, grief, and rage alongside hope, trust, faith, reverence. In my own self, I am able to pinpoint various parts of me that think, feel, and see things differently and maybe even connectedly. I am angry, sad, worried, perplexed, troubled, and full of doubt.

On the one hand there is the adage that you are in control, that “God is in control.” That comes out from the left and the right. Lest I overly offend you, we have talked before about this.  You were in control but where were you during the decimation of First Nations people? Where were you during the middle passage? Where were you when the chains, whips, lashes, inhumanity, and ownership were perpetrated upon brown people? Where were you during the Holocaust? Where were you during the horrors of Jim Crow? Where are you now?

Have you indeed chosen this particular administration, or is it that you have chosen governments in general to rule the people? Where were you when Nero was raging upon believers, and using them as torches to light the night? I do not do one-liners well, and that is one of my faults, that even when the one-liners have truth in them, I am prone to detect how the one-liners are used by whom and upon whom. I do not ask for easy answers, nor do I want them from those who are other places than me. I do not want to be patronized by folks who feign knowing more than the rest of us. 

Things these days trouble many of us.  I suspect that there are folks who voted for the Republican candidate who are equally as troubled as those of us who voted for the Democratic candidate. I do not know. I only suspect. No one is telling me those troubles.

Knowing that we have elected a man who disparages the physically challenged, who insults women, Hispanics, and Blacks, and who calls for policies that insult LGBTQ persons, one who overtly and covertly admires all things white and male, is deeply troubling. That he is now appointing amongst his cabinet those with racist ties and ideologies that mirror the worst of humanity. That the world is listening and watching, that other nations are already developing their plans, that we have lost esteem in the global community, is difficult to swallow.

Against all of these things and more, to know that some 81% of Christian evangelicals voted for him is even more astonishing.  We voted overwhelmingly for a man whose values are diametrically opposed to those of the Christian faith. I do not know exactly where to put that.  That leaders of the Christian right and apparently leaders of at least one foreign country, one which has been the enemy of American for decades, even centuries, applaud his election.

That children of all colors, and parents of all colors, tremble for the safety of their children. That racial epithets abound, rude words on walls of schools, cards sent to children, teachers who speak inflammatory language, and other things that send a clear message, unless you are white, you are not safe. That these are not just isolated events is deeply troubling.

On the streets in our cities, night after night, people are protesting, and for the most part those protests are calm and intense. At other times they devolve into violence and destruction. I am not in those crowds, but my heart is with them. They as individuals and as communities are speaking their minds. I wonder who is listening.

So, Jehovah, I am troubled. I know only one place to turn.  You have always been steadfast. Looking backwards is more likely to make sense than the present, and certainly the future holds much anxiety and worry.

I just want to know that you are here and that you hear and that you will respond on behalf of our people.  I just want to know that what breaks our hearts also breaks your heart. If that is so, then I am ok. I think we will all be ok if we know that your heart is broken when your people are threatened and scared.

Amen

2016 Black Farmers & Urban Gardeners Conference, Harlem, NYC

Several of my friends in the social justice/black farmers movement will be in New York this weekend.  Charla and I will be mindful of them as they travel and speak.  These friends, Gary Grant, Spencer Wood, and Michael Stewart, and others, have become more than casual friends in this movement. Check here for the conference and its details.  It should be extraordinarily interesting and provocative. Another page full of information is this one. 

Of much meaning to me personally is that Gary Grant, BFAA president, will be presenting information that I have been gathering for several years.  Gary thinks that this is a one of a kind set of data in terms of the impact of dealing with the USDA on the health and well-being of black farmers and family members.  The topic is "Land Loss, Litigation, and the Health and Well-Being of African American Farmers."  That he will be presenting the data and its interpretation is a first.  Normally I present and he is there to encourage me. He thinks it is important that this information is presented.  I think it is important.  We both believe that farming while black under the scrutinizing eye of the USDA and FSA with land and livelihood loss in plain view is destructive to people, individually and collectively.

Over the next few weeks I will be summarizing some of that work here.  I hope you will follow this page as some of these pieces are nuanced.

New Deal Resettlement Community

Near the intersection of state highway 561 and Community Center Road in rural North Carolina, just off to the right, sits three buildings that are pivotal to the history of this community of people, and, yes, to all of us who care about justice.  Originally, 18,000 acres were offered during the 1930s and 1940s as a part of Roosevelt's New Deal. The Tillery Resettlement Farm, one of 113 rural communities across the country, was occupied by 150 African American families and approximately 110 white families. Located in the Roanoke River Flood Plain, fraught with constant threat of flooding in the early days, these new landowners were game-changers.  They impacted the social, political, and economic landscape of what was once a plantation region.

There is much more to this history of this beautiful place than these pages can describe. Check this reference for more detail and perspective. Check this one out as well. And this one. 

Three buildings at this site are now more than 85 years of age and are in need of shoring up and restoration. The Tillery Community Center, The Curin' House, and the Remembering Tillery History House Museum have all weathered the storms of time.  We need to raise $65,000.  That's right.  Just $65,000 to support this community's restoration efforts.

Several families of the original resettlement still own and manage approximately 6,000 acres of the original land.  It is truly a historical place.

On a personal level, this was the place where Charla and I first met Gary Grant, BFAA President, and planned our collaborative effort to interview farmers and families who had been battered and bruised by the USDA and DOJ.  It was this spot that Charla and I celebrated at least two anniversaries and a place in which we have shared meals, danced, lifted up our voices, and discussed matters of importance to the community and to us.  It is the place where I interviewed black farmers and family members, a place where we sang Amazing Grace and cried as the stories unfolded. It is also the location of several Black farmer land loss summits. Other times we have visited because these people are our friends and family.

Please read through these materials and offer your support for the fund raising effort.  Your contributions via the Concerned Citizens of Tillery are tax deductible.  You can help keep the story being told for generations to come.

The fund raising event and the farm mural converge on what will be an amazing day at the Tillery Community Center on Saturday, November 12, 2016. This is where our hearts will be on this historic day. The list of speakers is amazing:  Drs. Spencer Wood and Katherine Charron, Michael Stewart, Evangeline Grant Briley, Gary Grant, and others. The mural by noted local artist Napoleon Hill will be unveiled.

Yes, there is much to digest in this post.  Others will follow. Thanks for your patience in reading.  It will be well worth your time and an encouragement to this community in rural North Carolina that mean so much to Charla and me and to the cause of justice.

The short verse?  Please go to www.cct78.org and contribute via the paypal link.  Charla and I have already contributed and will be listed as "Harvesting the Crops." I hope you will do the same.

 

No More, No More

Bob Dylan is in the news these days for his long career of writing songs.  To receive the Nobel Prize for Literature is no small thing. His rendition of Auction Blocks is stirring, as is Robeson's and Odetta's.

Here is Odetta's:



Here are some additional lyrics that fit the tune and describe the plight of the black farmer and family that popped up in my head a while back.

Hum them, sing them, with emotion, and see if they fit the black farmer cause.

No more sleepless nights for me,

No more, no more
No more sleepless nights for me,
Many thousands gone.

No more wonderin’ when for me,

No more, no more
No more wonderin’ when for me,
Many thousands gone.

No more govm’t threats to me,

No more, no more
No more govm’t threats to me,
Many thousands gone.

No more idle fields for me,

No more, no more
No more idle fields for me,
Many thousands gone.

No more courthouse steps for me,

No more, no more
No more courthouse steps for me,
Many thousands gone.
 
No more land loss tales for me,
No more, no more
No more land loss tales for me,
Many thousands gone.
 
No more hangin’ from a tree,
No more, no more
No more hangin’ from a tree,
Many thousands gone.

Adaptations by Waymon Hinson