“In a day of renown by some and mourning by others, the majority culture shared resources with new minority immigrant families, bettered their lives, and gave their sustenance and care a fighting chance.

According to the online resource www.nativehope.com, “Thanksgiving as a holiday originates from the Native American philosophy of giving without expecting anything in return. In the first celebration of this Holiday, the Wampanoag tribe provided food for the feast and the teachings of agriculture and hunting (corn, beans, wild rice, and turkey are some specific examples of foods introduced by Native Americans).”

The harsh new environment would have killed the Europeans without the goodwill of the Wampanoag Tribe’s show of Health Equity.”

From Three-Fifths Magazine

November’s Theme: Thanksgiving, Collaboration, and the Dismantling of Barriers to Health Equity

If the plight of American BIPOCs were a hymn or a song, what would the genre be? Would there be lyrics – or would it simply be an instrumental? Would the track be uptempo or slow or both? Or neither? Would the vast majority of the notes be sharp or flat?

I hope you will indulge me as I share this Rhapsody in B flat. A foundational tenet of Christian education dictates that we should (to the best of our abilities) live our lives with an attitude of gratitude. As a child of God, as a son to my wonderful parents, as a husband, a father, a brother, a nephew, a pastor, a colleague, a friend, a neighbor, a human being, an optimist, a Black man, and an American citizen; honesty compels me to report to you that I cannot ask of anyone else anything that I am unwilling or unable to do myself first. I love our Heavenly Father. I love my family and friends. I love my country. I love myself. For all those things, and for blessings far too numerous to count and/or mention, I give thanks. This life may not be perfect, but it is indeed precious.

Life’s preciousness is something I hold near and dear to my heart throughout the year in general; and in the Fall in particular. There’s something about Autumn that covertly and overtly remind me of America’s many paradoxes.

While there is so much debate by so many people publicly and privately about how to make America great again, there is so little debate about how to make America equable at long last. This is especially the case as it relates to healthcare. Tragically, the marginalized BIPOC communities of today have not yet realized health equity – and therefore continue to be adversely affected the most by a long list of serious health issues known to plague people of color in this nation; such as Diabetes, Hypertension, Alzheimer’s, Sickle Cell Anemia, Cancer, Heart Disease, Stroke, Asthma, Pneumonia, Mental Health diagnoses, Pregnancy, and COVID. All of these aforementioned illnesses kill far more BIPOCs than our White counterparts. But despite that fact, people of color in America struggle with every conceivable level of care. With or without health insurance, it’s harder to access medical treatment. It’s harder to find doctors with a personal stake in extending to us their full expertise and best counsel without condescension or implicit bias. It’s harder to find medical personnel who will listen to our concerns and answer our questions with patience instead of simply giving us the bum’s rush.

Whether we live or die should never be contingent on where we live, what we look like, who we know, what we do for a living, how we dress, how we speak, or the color of our skin.

The irony here is that Black excellence is on full display every day in countless ways. In our homes, in our businesses, in our finances, in our houses of worship, and in our participation in civic organizations, BIPOCs show up and show out. We love the United States of America. The burning question remains why it is that the United States of America cannot – and will not – love us back. Fully. Demonstrably. Measurably. Undeniably.

Yes, the -isms are all at work here: racism, ageism, sexism, ableism. Yes, “our fight is not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, and against spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places;” just as Ephesians 6:12 admonishes us. Yes, the dark forces of hatred, ignorance, greed, jealousy, and indifference all are integrated within our society, our systems, our infrastructures, our corporations, our norms, our socioeconomics, our politics, and even our governance. But ultimately, America’s steadfast refusal to embrace and implement health equity for all its citizens without regard for race, faith tradition, age, gender, gender orientation, social location, marital status, and/or national origin will continue to exist so long as there are individuals and groups lurking in the shadows who profit financially from inequity.

The living descendants of the First Nations and the formerly enslaved African Americans are living, breathing examples that kindness is not currency.

Freedom is not free – just as common sense is no longer common.

America is not what our history books tell us. It could be, it should be, and it would be… if common courtesy or legitimate Christian virtues and values were actualized and realized instead of demonized and criticized.

Mahatma Gandhi once famously stated that “a civilization is measured by how it treats its weakest members.” If Gandhi’s statement is true, then it seems to me that America is quite far from great – by its own choice.

How long will our country deny us the health equity that we want and need so desperately? I don’t know. No human knows.

I love our Heavenly Father. I love my family and friends. I love my country – warts and all. I love myself. For all those things, and for blessings far too numerous to count and/or mention, I give thanks. This life may not be perfect, but it is precious. Having said that, living in an attitude of gratitude as a BIPOC in the United States of America is the ultimate rollercoaster ride. As things currently stand,  Thanksgiving can easily lead to slow singing by loved ones dressed in black reminiscing over you. So stay prayerful, my friends.