In a panic, Shirley called screaming that she was “locked in her car” and the car wouldn’t let her out.  It was the morning of our last Loving Our Neighbors workshop, pouring down rain, and Shirley was an integral part of the event.  She was planning to tell her story to help the young leaders of our church understand the concept of ingroup-outgroup treatment. 

She tells about the year her school got closed and all the children got sent to the school that was previously “whites only.”  Shirley is a Black woman in her 60’s. She has lived through some hard stuff and has carried the weight of white supremacy impacting every part of her life, her career, and even her driving at night experiences, so car problems can be very triggering and even terrifying for Shirley.

Shirley’s car was smoking by the time she got parked in front of our house in a downpour. The young people started arriving and Nick (of Italian descent) and Austin (of Irish heritage) checked to see how they could help. . . . the workshop started as scheduled, the car problem set aside for the moment.

Ms. Shirley told the group how the murders of Trayvon Martin, George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery, and thousands of others that came before and after them often keep her in her home for fear, sometimes because she just does not know for sure when and with whom she is safe. She says, “Even at church, I don’t know who is for me, especially since I saw  people who are friendly to my face say some really racist and revealing things on their social media.”

The young leaders sat attentively paying attention to every word . . . and every stifled emotion and facial expression. Most of them didn’t really understand that equity, empathy, and “civil rights” are still a struggle in this lifetime, right here and now for Black people and other people of color . . . until Shirley told her story.  The voices and stories of people of color are amplified during the workshop, so that is how the next 7 hours went.

To help them understand how humans typically respond to unfamiliar people and ethnic groups, I gave the definitions from my book, Loving Our Neighbors:

“Outgroup members are, individuals and people groups about whose welfare we are not particularly concerned. We associate outgroup members as dissimilar to ourselves based on physical, cultural, linguistic difference, geographic distance, and even “moral” (religious), or political grounds.  We require equitable returns for cooperation with or to offer assistance to outgroup members.

“Ingroup members are individuals or groups of people who we ARE concerned about, and associate as similar to ourselves based on physical, cultural, linguistic similarity, or geographic proximity and even “moral” (religious or political grounds.  Ingroup members are those whose welfare we are concerned about, and we do not demand equitable returns in order to help.

(Courage, 2020, Loving Our Neighbors.  Definitions adapted from the research of Gudykunst & Kim 1977, Tajfel, 1978; Tajfel & Turner 1978.)

The room went completely silent.

After the workshop, everyone dispersed except for Nick and Austin.  Shirley and I went outside to resume solving the car problem. The guys were calling a mechanic and the auto parts store.  Nick left and came back with a battery and an alternator, the mechanic arrived, and the car was working within the hour.

Shirley told me that Nick would not let her reimburse him for the parts he purchased.  We thanked the guys and affirmed his immediate application of the day’s lessons.  

Nick replied:

“ . . .Light was shone in my heart when you talked about how we demand equitable returns from people in our outgroup but not in the ingroup.  That was revelation for me. . . I’m thankful for the Holy Spirit orchestrating these things for us (to  learn). . . ”

Recognizing racism may happen early but recognizing “privilege” very rarely happens simultaneously for most of us of European descent. We often see racism as a problem someone else created, while our own benefit from that system remains invisible to us. We tend to see ourselves nobly for overcoming our own struggles, without context of how many layers of protection and unearned favor we have for simply being born with light skin.

My journey

I was almost 12 years old and it was 1973 when I began to recognize “racism.” That was when we moved from Berlin, Germany to Ft. Bragg, North Carolina. It was 1973.

I was completely unaware of the Civil Rights struggle going on in the US during the first decade of my life.  I was almost four years old and living in Germany the year Dr. King was assassinated. There were two reasons I knew nothing of what most Black children my age knew:

1. We had only one tv show in English in Berlin (Hee Haw). We were in a bubble.
2. My (white) father and family did not have discussions about racism…or “color,” even though at some point later I heard him refer to Dr. King as a “communist.”

Both one and two are evidence of my own privilege, but recognizing it took some time, relationships, and information.

After the Civil Rights Act, being “colorblind” became a camouflage for racism. Colorblindness was the white response to the Civil Rights Act.  I had a powerful, and thoroughly racist father. Of course, at the age of 12ish, I had no language for what I was beginning to observe. What I did have, was the privilege of not knowing or experiencing racism because of my skin color.

The deepest work begins when we realize who we consider and treat as “my people,” the kind of people we care about . . . and those who we don’t. 

Having privilege means we can ignore the problem of racism and inequity and deny that these things exist because they are not problems that we perceive to harm us or anyone else.

When we finally begin to contemplate “the sins of OUR fathers,” we ask questions, like, “Did my ancestors own slaves?” “Why should I pay for the acts of others, even if they were my “forefathers,” or even the historic abuse of power of people who immigrated from Europe?” “How am I responsible?” “What could I even do if my direct family was complicit?” These are very individualistic questions, but scripture calls us to look at it differently, as a body.

Instead, we should ask, “Do I have the ability to help restore what was unfair, unlawful, wounding, or unjust burdens created by laws, cultures, and economic profits?” 

The best question is, “If I have the ability to help heal a wound or make something right that is wrong (whether because of my ancestors or not), shouldn’t I?”

Like the “Good Samaritan” in Luke 10, we can use privilege (he had economic means and flexible time) to help change things.  We can minister in individual and collective ways to the battered ones in need that our history, ancestors, and apathy have left bleeding and wounded on the side of the proverbial road.  The consequences of the past are tangible and factual, not proverbial.  They are still harming us. To the best of our collective and individual abilities, we must make it right. Until then we will stand guilty before God and each other.

By Doc Courage