Examining my own heart towards Ferguson

The events in Ferguson and with the Eric Garner case, has me thrown for a loop. I don’t know how to feel, what is right, what to do. I’m reading different accounts, listening to lots of opinions, and my heart just wants peace. I want the answer, but I know it is more than a one answer problem. There is complexity and years of systemic problems that don’t only include our justice system but the education system and the disarray of family households. It makes my heart sad.

Part of me feels guilty for being born white. I did not ask to be. I had no control over the color of my skin. I don’t want to feel guilty for my pigmentation. Mostly, because I don’t think it helps solve any problems, it just makes me cower in the corner afraid to say anything for fear of insulting or looking like a idiot.

Part of me didn't understand white privilege. I do believe I am privileged. I grew up with two parents who loved each other, constantly sacrificed to take care of my siblings and I. My father worked two jobs most of my childhood. My mom stayed home to home school us. I had godly examples of what a mom and dad should be like. I was instilled with values of respect, hard work, and kindness. I was given responsibility at a young age, and was expected to fulfill my duties. I was given discipline when I needed it.

Part of me has a hard time understanding a lack of trust of police. Once again, I was raised to believe that the police were good. If you needed help, they would come. I was taught to obey and respect police officers. I had a healthy fear of them. I didn't want to get caught doing something I wasn't supposed to, and I definitely wanted the police around if I needed them. I always had a high respect and admiration for police officers. And in some ways, I still do.

This is not a normal childhood for many people. I realized this clearly when I started working in a low income school. Many of the kindergartners who came through my door needed all the things I had growing up: love, discipline, encouragement, safety. It broke my heart over and over to see what I saw. I made it my purpose to give my kids a safe, loving environment where they would be encouraged, disciplined and respected. I hope that they understood my love for them.

I always felt my privilege came from how I was raise, not because of my skin color. We were poor for all of my childhood. I lived in the neighborhood with nightly shootings. We were not allowed to play in the front yard without a parent. I was the only white girl in the neighborhood. I went to a community college with people from all shades and backgrounds. Diversity felt pretty normal. I never felt like I got ahead because of my race.

In fact, I knew that if I did not work hard, I would never be able to go to college. My parents didn’t have the money. I studied hard, got good grades, applied to a university after spending two and half years at the community college. My grade point average gave me a scholarship for over half of the tuition per year. Throughout this my college years, I worked 15 to 20 hours a week, lived at home, and paid off as much as I could of my college debt. I escaped university with $14,000 in debt and a bachelor’s degree.

In the past, when someone would say that I was privileged because of my skin, I felt insulted. I worked hard to get to where I am. My parents had nothing. Nothing was ever handed to me. I remember the days when my mom would cry over a bill she didn’t know how she was going to pay. I remember my parents receiving help through the Birch Gleaning Service. I didn’t think that my childhood constituted privilege.

But as I think over my initial feelings toward being told that "I'm privileged," I wonder if I feelt insulted because of the color of my skin or my pride. To have someone say that I am privileged, in some ways insinuates that I haven't done work to get where I am now. I have worked hard. And that is the point. My pride is insulted. It isn't about how much work I did. Or what was handed to me. It's about what God has given me or allowed me to have. The glory shouldn't go to me. It's not about me. And that's a sobering thought.

Not only has God been the one in control, and so I can't and shouldn't take credit for my hard work, but I also have not experienced much of what others have. I have never been profiled. I have never been pulled over by the cops because of how I looked. I have never been assumed guilty. I’m a tall, red head. I stick out like a sore thumb but never in a negative way. I can see how my privileged childhood and skin color could afford me experiences others may never get or could get. I can see how growing up in certain situations, and always feeling like there was a strike against you, would set you up for failure. Add an imperfect justice system and sinners, and there is a case for privilege.

So what do I do? How do I respond? Honestly, I have felt like that I don’t have the right to say anything or do anything. I haven’t been in their shoes. I couldn’t possibly understand. But that logic is false and is merely an excuse to not do or say anything. Many people have never suffered a year’s worth of debilitating back pain like I have, but that doesn’t mean their advice or encouragement isn’t true or helpful. I can’t crawl into my invisible turtle shell and close my eyes to what's around me. 

Right now, I think my first response is to check my heart. Where are my biases? Am I thinking correctly? This soul searching has been prompting my heartache. It’s much easier to just turn off the tv, don’t read blogs, not engage in what is happening. There are people out there hurting. I can’t stand idly by and pretend I don’t see it. I want God to get my heart right, so that when the opportunity arises to speak and act, it will be out of a humble love. I need to turn to the Savior who has gone through it all, understands the hearts of everyone, and gives everlasting peace.

Honestly, examining your own heart is not pleasant. Asking God to show you where your biases are and sin is at, hurts. I don't want to think that I am prejudice. I don't want to think that I may have been thinking wrong about myself. If I don't look at my heart, then I won't change. I won't become more like Christ. I'll stay stagnant. If I want to continue to be sanctified I need to be willing to look at heart honestly, and allow God to point out what he wants. I need my Savior to give me his eyes, his love for others, so that I can empathize, and love like He does.

Search me, O God, and know my heart!

    Try me and know my thoughts!

 And see if there be any grievous way in me,

    and lead me in the way everlasting!

Psalm 139:23-24

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