Mind Games

"The energy that was buried with the rise of the Christian nations must come back into the world; nothing can prevent it. Many of us, I think, both long to see this happen and are terrified of it, for though this transformation contains the hope of liberation, it also imposes a necessity for great change. 

I have met only a very few people—and most of these were not Americans—who had any real desire to be free. Freedom is hard to bear. It can be objected that I am speaking of political freedom in spiritual terms, but the political institutions of any nation are always menaced and are ultimately controlled by the spiritual state of that nation." 

-  James Baldwin, 1962. (From a Letter From a Region in My Mind) 

An Ikea Dresser

Begin by envisioning something you have worked on. A paper you wrote, a recipe you were following, a painting or drawing, a piece of Ikea furniture you put together, maybe some computer code, anything that requires sewing. Fill in the blank if your interests are less crafty.

What happens when you make a mistake while building something? You can't find a source for one of the main arguments in your paper. You sewed on a sleeve inside out. You put the bottom panel of the dresser drawers in upside down and now the screw holes don't line up. You realize you left out the eggs when the cake is already in the oven.

Some things are ruined, some things can be fixed. If you can fix it - let's use the Ikea furniture example - it will require dismantling part of what you've built in order to correct the mistake. Multiple parts must shift so that one part can be changed.

What happens when we want to or have to change our ideas? Our beliefs and our perception of the world and our systems for processing information are like the dresser components that go together to shape who we are and how we interact in the world. In this analogy, we are Ikea dressers. It requires a partial dismantling of self to flip the drawer bottoms into the correct position. It is perilous, destabilizing work when the structural integrity of the dresser - your self - is at stake. Sometimes we decide we can live with the drawer bottoms in upside down. But maybe after you've been shoving clothes in for a few months, they start to sag, and the left side of the center drawer keeps popping out because there's no screw in there. If you want the dresser to work better, you have to put in the work to fix it, which will require some destruction in the process.

It's hard work to transcend beliefs you've held for a long time. Things we believe over a long period of time can become foundational in the way we see the world, and the way we conduct our lives. If those foundational beliefs are questioned, we might question our identity, and that can be very unsettling. It calls everything we've not had to think about (and considered "settled") into question, and that can be overwhelming. It can cause tension in relationships and spaces that view questions as threats.

If you really tackle the question of "Is God good?" you may find that a lot of other beliefs hang in the balance. If you ask new questions about your sexuality, you may find that some of your interaction with the world is called into question too. If you question the narrative of your nationality, you may find yourself adrift in darkened waters. You may also find that people who share in the structure of your foundational beliefs push back when you take a chisel to the pillars.

Questioning our foundational beliefs can also be very freeing. There is space in the way we define ourselves for growth, change, and movement. When I am open to shifting foundational beliefs of my own, I feel the fear and instability of uncertainty, but it also gives me hope that my identity could be freed from entrenched destruction. That the dresser could be put back together, better.


I Believe You

I am comfortable believing that injustice is a footnote in society as I related to it. Well, comfortable enough that I tend not to do the work of deconstructing my foundational beliefs in order to be deeply aware of injustice as a cancer that is gnawing at my neighbor, and it's coming for me. 

How can I stop believing that it's someone else's problem, and a small problem at that? I've been practicing saying, simply, "I believe you." This started with a real person and a real story. Relationship is, for me, a powerful tool in the changing of minds and hearts. I talked with a Black neighbor about her experience in our neighborhood and with the police in her home, with her family. This conversation did not come about through any effort on my part, but because I accidentally came into the position of trying to mitigate professional risk. I was so uncomfortable and ashamed and helpless that I was shaken, and because of that, I believed my neighbor. Despite the fact that I don't understand it and didn't see it with my own eyes, I believed her.

Something about believing without seeing took a sledgehammer to the Ikea dresser, so to speak. I can't stop saying, "I believe you", and it changes everything. I recall Romans 12:2, "but be transformed by the renewing of your mind." This transformation isn't so much about information as it is about posture. A posture of belief becomes a compulsion to help. To love. And I know that other people can sense the difference between an "I believe you" and a "whatever you say" in my mind. One leads to sisterhood, and the other does not.

James Baldwin wrote, "one can give nothing whatever without giving oneself—that is to say, risking oneself. If one cannot risk oneself, then one is simply incapable of giving."

Belief isn't as simple as we sometimes make it out to be. It's typically not "like flipping a switch." Nothing about choosing to dismantle foundational beliefs is simple. It requires risking ourselves. However, to build the practice and posture of "I believe you" into our relationships with people and alternate realities (meaning how other people experience a system differently than we experience it), it's helpful to make a distinction between "I believe you" and "I agree with you."

We are so aware of what we don't agree with. If you don't already have training in agreement wars from your spiritual or racial background, you've probably experienced it on the internet. There are times when disagreement is not only okay, but imperative. But the level of things that I've been taught to disagree with sews a minefield between "the world" (anyone who doesn't already live according to extremely specific interpretations of scripture) and Jesus. You don't have to agree with everyone you believe. You also don't have to say that you don't agree.

Saying (or posturing), "I believe you", removes the internal conflict over looking like I might be "supporting things I don't agree with". This is an important thing to understand if you, like me, have the teaching or the urge to add, "I'm not sure I agree" to interacting with people who act in ways that are outside of the foundations of our moral fabric. In my religious background (which I distinguish from my beliefs today, but won't elaborate on here), anything having to do with gender or baby making falls into this category. Sex before marriage? Disagree. Sex between the same gender? Disagree. Abortion? Disagree. Police as a corrupt institution? Disagree.

As James Baldwin put it, Christianity as we typically see it playing out "is more deeply concerned about the soul than it is about the body, to which fact the flesh (and the corpses) of countless infidels bears witness." 

"I agree (or disagree)" is about ideas. "I believe you (or don't believe you)" is about people. Agreeing is nice, but it's not paramount. I doubt Jesus agrees with me on everything. But I feel his love for me in spite of our differences of opinion.

You were born gay? I believe you. You were born one gender but you now identify as another? I believe you. I hurt you? I believe you. The police don't see you as human? I believe you. Even, even, You're not a racist? I believe you.

In all of these examples, whether or not I agree with someone else's experience or choice makes no difference to them. The only thing that is served by voicing my agreement (or lack there of) is my own voice. Does me not believing that the police are unjust toward you make you feel better treated by police? No it does not. Even if I could interpret your experience differently than you have, it doesn't help you for me to explain what I think you really experienced or what you really meant.

In the past when I've felt wronged (occasionally due to my gender), it would have been great to hear, "I believe you" instead of, "actually, that's not what happened." Whether or not anyone could "prove" my experience one way or another. There's not much that we get to prove in this life, and the things we think we've proven aren't proof to everyone. That's why belief is important, and belief is a choice.

Posturing "I believe you" is important to me because it leads to love. Disagreement is often my ticket to exclusion. I can easily dismiss people experiencing something I don't believe is real. After all, their refusal to see my truth is their problem, now that I've presented them with my disagreement. 

To say, instead, "I believe you" (internally: "even if I disagree"), becomes an I love you. It becomes, "I see what you are saying, and I will help you and be helped by you." 1 Corinthians 13:7 is often read as "Love never loses faith", but the ESV translates it, "Love believes all things." The agreement clause of my structural identity has so often pulled me out of situations before I really listened. And that's one way that we find ourselves in this position, as white people, as a church, where we're shocked by reality because we didn't see it before.

Miki Kim

Suspense 

What if you don't believe someone? That's real, and it should be considered a valid scenario.
Maybe we can practice, first, "I can suspend my belief so that I can hear you".

We know that we can't believe everything we see or read. Our impulse is to distrust what we view as outrageous. We also seem to distrust sources that we believe have "an agenda" (maybe we can unpack that another time). We also know that we lean toward believing things that confirm what we already believe. We can go a long time relatively unhindered by that one corner of the drawer bottom popping out occasionally. After all, it still holds most of the clothing.

What does it mean to suspend belief? One definition is, "an intentional avoidance of critical thinking or logic in examining something surreal." 

I say this gently to us, to myself: If it feels like seeing life through Black eyes requires us to suspend belief, perhaps we're not all wrong. It's hard to start believing something that doesn't seem logical to us out of sheer will. I think it is only surreal and illogical to us because we have not believed or experienced it before. Isn't not believing also a suspension of belief? Isn't a refusal to engage in dismantling systems of oppression with our own bodies and a refusal to believe that the police, as a system, are a destructive force an intentional avoidance of critical thinking?

How could something so horrifying - so out there - as centuries of targeted murder in which the murderers are called heroes, be real? If we believe it, what does that mean about us and about other people? What does it mean that we've been able to avoid that view on reality?

Maybe it's not out there, though. Maybe many, many people have said it. Maybe they've been saying it for generations. Maybe I view systemic oppression and my body as the fabric of that system as a surrealist exaggeration because believing it would require a seismic shift in my foundation, not because it's not believable.

If you are a Christian, you already believe something that you can't prove. We don't believe because we are ignorant, but because we've made a choice and continue making that choice. How can we choose not to believe something that we can see, then? We only choose not to believe it if we don't see it. And we can only avoid seeing it if we keep saying we don't believe.

How do you believe something if you have no evidence? Dismantling the dresser in order to repair it requires choice. I am making the choice to believe something new or different primarily through an act of will, and now I am on a quest to gather the evidence to repair my foundations around these altered pillars. Isn't that convenient, you might ask? Yes it is. But the things I believe already are no different. I chose or was handed the other foundational beliefs I already operate under a long time ago, and refusal to shift those beliefs is nothing more than a continual gathering of evidence supporting what I already believed and refuting or ignoring what I did not believe.

For example, it is at some risk to myself (at least any notion of being considered sane within the institutions that I generally run in) that I take a vocal stance on the dismantling of the police as we know them in the United States. I've had experiences with police that amount to personal evidence both that I benefit (not just generally, but specifically) from police and that police are a localized arm of the military, sanctioned by the state to terrorize civilians. Remember, you don't have to agree with me. But you can believe me, if you choose to.

Prior to the last month or two, my beliefs and opinions and feelings toward police in America were maybe slightly less trustful than that of the average white women (due in large part to my knowledge and experience of police in China and Thailand) but in general they were not an institution I'd given much attention to as a whole. Because doing so affected me very little.

In short, while it is a choice, it costs me very little to believe my neighbor suffers unjustly at the hands of police who then face no repercussions whatsoever. Believing that is supported by an abundance of other material which suddenly seems remarkably large to have ever been disregarded by me before. I believe that not every police officer is corrupt and oppressive, but that's a separate conversation. I do believe the police system to be irreconcilably flawed, however, and I believe that in part because my sisters and brothers tell me so. And I believe them.

My old belief served me only passively, and I have no particular attachment to it. My new belief does little to disadvantage me, and I hope everything to affirm my neighbor, both my literal neighbor and my neighbors at large. I have been safe from the police because I have virtually no contact with them. That alone is privilege, and not much of a platform from which to shout that the police are interested in my well-being. I do, however, have the category for lack of safety if I were to challenge police authority, including the authority to terrorize. I believe that injustice toward someone removed from me that goes unchallenged by me is merely an injustice that has not reached me yet.

If we can not repair our beliefs for someone else's sake, we can do it selfishly, to save ourselves.

I don't know if any of this makes any sense to anyone but me. This is a tutorial on how I change my own mind, after all. It may seem as if I'm engaged in extreme mental gymnastics in order to come to radical new conclusions. And that is my point precisely. 

Woker than Thou

Once upon a time, in the comments section of the internet...

That's how all rant-style stories start, right? In fact, my lack of rants over the past year probably has a great deal to do with getting my eyes off the comments section of all sorts of things. But this morning I really put my foot in some comment-section poo and here I am ranting.

I knew the moment I saw the notification that there was a response to my comment. I felt my hackles go up, I felt a sense of dread. I didn't feel ashamed of my comment and therefore fear retribution, no, something much more sinister - I sensed a white lady about to wag her spokesperson-for-the-downtrodden finger at me.

I answered a sad and complicated question (note: original post was asking for opinions) about childhood and race with my opinion (not stated as an absolute truth), followed by a statement of hope (again, not stated as a blanket truth) that any law enforcement that got involved in the scenario described would be understanding of the complexity of the issue at hand.

I wish I was cynical enough to bait the wokest-of-the-woke on purpose, because my stated opinions and hopes, with caveats, was like cheese in a mousetrap. It was really only a matter of time before I was outed as being an idiot who obviously cares nothing for the lives of black men, given my statement. Those weren't her exact words, but it was definitely her inference.

One of the saddest things was that it actually did take effort for me to take that tiny, tiny step out on a limb and give some hypothetical police officer an iota of grace. I'm not very trustful of police as a category because I see that terrible mistakes and choices have been made at crucial moments. But it's not fair of me to only ever pick on them either. Believing that there are good and thoughtful officers does not mean that I don't understand - as much as I am able - that black and brown people are at a social disadvantage to white people and have and will continue to be wronged by the law. It makes me angry and breaks my heart. But to see that there can be both thoughtful and thoughtless officers is apparently too nuanced for the comments section. I really should have known better at the point.

I hate that I have to spend two paragraphs explaining common sense every time I open my mouth. What could be one sentence becomes four in hopes that I can preempt every angle of attack that the next commenter might take aim at. I spent half the day calmly not dignifying the fellow commenter with a response, interspersed with bursts of private frustration where I wanted to rage-type, STAY IN YOUR LANE, KAREN! (Her name wasn't Karen, don't worry. Also, "Karen" was not the one who posed the original question, in case that was unclear in this play by play.)

I'm not thick skinned. I'm also not perfect.

As much as I'm sad to admit it, the emotional and psychological toll that it takes on me to constantly have my moral compass questioned when I try and help someone keeps me from engaging in conversations, relationships, society, or any facet of those realms where the topic matters and could approach anything close to controversial.

In this sense, political correctness has gone too far. It's good and right to be more aware of others, but it's not right to stomp on others who are trying to learn and trying to take steps to thoughtfully engage in difficult topics. "You know what this situation really needs? White women policing other white women about what black people need." SAID NO ONE, EVER. Miss me with that shit.

You in the comments.
You make it so hard to do good, because nothing is ever good enough.
You prevent progress because you can only see the flaws in the attempts to progress and it makes those who wanted to try afraid to do anything for fear of your swift wrath. How can a more lowly being such as myself dare to start trying to do better if you always move the finish line?

(photo credit unknown)

I'm sick of hearing that I'm not allowed to care because I'm white. I don't have a savior complex, I don't think that my whiteness means I can fix the problems of non-white people. But who profits when we turn away people who are trying to learn from their mistakes and humbly ask, "how can I help you?" I don't deny that skin color gets different people different kinds of treatment, but can we stop questioning someone's level of genuine concern based on their color?

You in the comments. You know what? You probably DO know better than me. There are certainly smarter, more thoughtful, more experienced people than me. But what good is that if you only use your wisdom and knowledge to hit people in the face who haven't realized what you've realized?

I'm very aware that I've been the PC-police plenty of times. And I'm sorry for when I've mishandled that, because it blows to be on the receiving end of words that may be correct, but a tone that is meant to crush. The other day, I almost told a white women who was taking it upon herself to school other white women that I only cared to be schooled on race by non-white people. But then I stopped (I'm learning), because I was about to be THAT white women, telling a white women what she could and couldn't tell me about race. So meta...

I recognize my own hypocrisy as a "well-meaning white liberal". I've repeatedly heard (from POC) that nice liberal white women can cause the most damage (more than bigots and hate spewers) because we think that being nice will fix issues of race. And it won't. It requires action. It requires recognizing that you - yes you, holy comments lady. yes, me too - are part of the problem. That our nice talk about "the disadvantaged" is meaningless if we spend all our time attacking one another (ie. attacking other white people who aren't "doing it right"). Action is messy, sometimes, and it's flawed. So more so than ever, please don't discourage people who are trying to learn the right ways to take part and be supportive.

I hope I'm not just adding to the noise by being mad at a white lady who was mad at me for not being a good enough nice white lady.

I think about the fact that if the women who gave me an unnecessary talking to in the comments section simply apologized, would I have written this entire blog post? Probably not. I would have been totally placated and moved on with my day. Sometimes we just want to be heard. Whether its her or me or some third party. I want others to listen to me and acknowledge that life is hard and unfair and that I was treated unjustly. How much more true for people more systemically disadvantaged than I? I want to hear you, and I want to be heard too.

There are plenty of opinions on the internet that I don't like. Plenty of people are straight up wrong or rotten. Sometimes I confront them. But I am trying to stop myself more often and ask, "is it necessary that I be the one to put this person in their place?" If they're wrong, they will be the captain of their own demise, and I don't need to be the one who shouts it from the rooftops to make myself feel more in-the-know.

I'm not here to self-flagellate over the whole situation or whether I understand my role as a white person well enough, or whether I feel guilty enough for missing the mark sometimes. You in the comments. I refuse to become a recluse because I'm afraid of your shaming words. Your attempts to make me a robot who only gives the "right" answer that you've already come up with in your head. You're just waiting for me to put a spin on it or see a different side of the story so you can stomp on my throat. I know, because I've lain in wait for just such a victim in the comments section. It's a shitty thing to do. And it silences people who are trying to find a good voice. The internet needs more good voices.

If you see someone else trying to help, trying to learn, trying to do the right thing, for Christ's sake, give them a hand. 

Hope for the Hopeless

I've been thinking about the idea of Hope over the past several months, never landing on the most structured of realizations or insights about it, but recognizing with a sort of grey discouragement that I do not feel any, nor do I recognize others exhibiting hope.

Gerhard Richter

Instead, the zeitgeist is of defeat, disengagement, and a muted despair.
The realization that no matter how much we care or work toward good, it won't be enough.

The only time I'm an optimist is when someone else is telling me something terrible and I'm trying to reflect something, anything, back that softens the blow. I've noticed this is not generally effective, as if my bullshit is leaking through a little.

Hope is not happiness. I've accepted that we can't be perpetually happy. I think hope is a prize at the end of a race that keeps us focused on the goal. Hope as I've been taught is not simply a wish, but a flame that guides us. I do think that is more substantial than a wish, but then I feel lost when I'm unconvinced of the allure of my goal, or I sense that the guiding flame has been extinguished.

I want to be honest that I don't always have hope. My "meh" understanding of theology is that hope is always there, but I certainly don't always see it. And what's the use of hope if you don't possess it?

I can't point to a moment where I misplaced my hope, exactly. But the precursor to misplaced hope was probably anger that had nowhere to mature. I recognize so many things in my country, my church, and myself that are wrong. That are right to be angry about. And I was angry. I wanted my recognition of failures and laziness and corruption to be met with repentance, healing, and justice. But I think it's quite rare that time moves quickly enough for us to be able to see the full arc of crime, rightful anger, denunciation, justice, repentance, and redemption. For myself, when I can't witness that full arc, I become disillusioned by the recognition that most of the pain I witness and experience will not be resolved the way I want it to, in the time frame that I hope for. I may never witness redemption in situations where hearts and minds and lives are broken.

This pattern repeated sucked me dry of hope. How am I supposed to find my way to a goal, let alone believe in a goal, if justice does not materialize? If I recognize something wicked, call it out, and nothing comes of it? It feels like this happens over and over again, until I'm tired out of calling things out as wicked, because it doesn't make a difference whether I exert the energy or not.

I've been rightly angry at stinging, spitting words of others, on any number of topics.
I've been rightly angry at the lazy, inward-coiled church.
I've been rightly angry at the disgusting, degrading, dishonest speech of my president.
I've been rightly angry that the gospel has been twisted into a burning rod that prods my loved ones away.
I've been rightly angry at the dismissal of the sanctity of women.

I sit and write this list of grievances, and I cry for them. They hurt, and they should, because they are full of nettles to the heart. They should not have happened. And I'm stung that I know they are wrong, but am powerless to right them. I would say I have hope in Christ to right them in his own timing, but I don't always, because the need is now, and I can't see the manifestation of his grace and power right now. If it's happening, I don't recognize it.

And that's where I got some hope back. Recognition that hope was just standing in a different direction than I've been facing. I may never get the satisfaction of knowing that those who've gotten it wrong understand their wrongness and then fix it. If my hope is for that, I am without hope. My hope is not in retribution, but in grace.

My hope is in the fact that as much as I hate the grotesque words and the spiteful actions of my intellectual enemies, I don't have to withhold my heart from them. I know that sounds....funny. Most (maybe all) of the time, I want people who are wrong to know that they are wrong. I don't think that that desire is always wrong. BUT, I have been wrong in thinking that until they admit that they are wrong, I am the better woman. This has crushed my hope, because most people don't think they are wrong. I can never seem to make it past the phase of righteous anger. I can't even right their wrongs for them, and that has tortured me. It's felt so dark, lost, and lonely. Restless and listless.

What IS in my power is to love people who are wrong. To put aside how much I detest their wrong ideas and how much I revile the way they have treated me or others, and say, "I still welcome you." You are still made by a God who is never wrong. To respond to people in a way that diffuses rage instead of feeding the wound they may have just inflicted.

To defend my pride less. Even if they're wrong.
To ignore inflammatory comments and be a better listener.
To serve children, even if its an interruption. Even if they don't deserve it. 
To give freely, for objects can be replaced.
To show up when I'd rather stay home.
To look past inconveniences and see opportunities to offer help.
To complain less, air my grievances less.

I am lighter for these realizations. I found some hope again. Hope - a goal - that is in my power, instead of my powerlessness. I don't have to hang my sense of accomplishment on whether poor decisions are punished adequately. My sense of accomplishment is a poor mini-me of Jesus' accomplishment, which is to say, "I love you anyway."

I didn't directly quote these writers, but in the past two weeks, Rachel Held Evans on the Church Unity episode of the Liturgists podcast and Rosaria Butterfield in her book "The Gospel Comes with a Housekey" have been instrumental in helping me reframe my place in a troubled church and a troubled world. I highly recommend both, for many reasons. 

Navigating Cultural Appreciation and Appropriation as a Global Citizen

As I was scrolling through Instagram stories today, a designer I follow had a reminder to "please be respectful of Mexican culture instead of mocking it in light of Cinco de Mayo coming up." I immediately panicked, wondering if I unwittingly show disrespect, since I couldn't imagine how one might celebrate Cinco de Mayo in a mocking way. I wrote the designer and asked what she considered disrespectful and she mentioned drunkenly imitating Mexican accents while wearing sombreros, and thankfully I've never done that or even considered it.

That experience of worrying whether I'm inadvertently appropriating someone else's culture is common to me. I think about the topic of cultural appropriation often because I know it's real but I also know that the rules of what is or is not appropriate shift and are nuanced depending on many factors. I wanted to offer my take, particularly as a Third Culture Kid (TCK) or a "global citizen".

I am ethnically/racially white from every angle of my family. My skin is very, very white. I spent the first 16 years of my life in various areas of China (which has a much larger degree of cultural diversity than is generally portrayed) and occasionally Thailand. Now I live back in the US where more than half of my city is Hispanic/Latino. That leaves me with cultural influences, appreciations, and background that do not match my ethnic background. This is common to all people with transient childhoods (or extended periods of adulthood) and to immigrants. More and more, the experiences that shape our personal and familial cultures are a blend of more than one ethnicity or tradition. Yet in cases such as mine, you'd never know if you didn't ask. If I wear Pakistani clothing while living in California and speaking English with no accent, for example, your first guess about why I might be doing that might not be that I grew up among Pakistanis. It might look suspect, but I still engage in cultural practices or decorate or dress up in clothing from other cultures because many of those cultures have become part of my identity.

Playing dress-up at home in Xinjiang, China, c.1995. Definitely not culturally accurate of any one thing, which seems like a great metaphor for the rest of my life, haha. 

I don't think there's a rule book that works all the time for what is or is not cultural appropriation, but here are some of my suggestions.

Appropriation vs. Appreciation

verb

əˈprōprēˌāt/

1. 1.

   
   

   take (something) for one's own use, typically without the owner's permission.

   "his images have been appropriated by advertisers"

   
   

   synonyms:

   seize, commandeer, expropriate, annex, arrogate, sequestrate, sequester, take over, hijack

verb
əˈprēSHēˌāt/

1. 1.

   
   

   recognize the full worth of.

   "she feels that he does not appreciate her"

   
   

   synonyms:

   value, treasure, admire, respect, hold in high regard, think highly of, think much of

Even though I understood the concepts of both appreciating and appropriating, I found these definitions to be insightful. Appropriating has this aspect of power-plays (addressed later on) and even violence. The image of a hijacking is an especially vivid association as we can imagine how jarring it would be to be going in one direction and have someone suddenly wrestle that choice away from us and take us in a new, unwanted direction. Similarly, appreciating means something more profound than the way in which I often use it - it carries this deep sense of worth, synonymous with treasure. I was especially struck by the definition of "recognizing the full worth". That's a true litmus test for whether we are appropriating or appreciating something.

I treasure many things. It's called being a maximalist, aka a trash rat. I literally find other people's trash and nail it to my walls, and it brings me great satisfaction! I've found that because of my messy cultural background, I like a lot of different things that have meaning or hold memories for me. Even if I don't have a specific memory tied to an object, I might see an object that reminds me of something or somewhere or even someone I love, and then I want to add that object into my living space. I am also interested in a lot of things that I don't yet "recognize the full value of" but exploring things that intrigue me is a way that I learn. A lot of items that I'm drawn to have an ethnic feel because I like color and pattern and faintly macabre stuff (carvings and masks) and that happens to overlap with many tribal, Eastern, or South American cultures. I find that I also search for things to attach meaning to as a way to compensate for not having strong cultural and spiritual markers within my ethnic heritage. That tendancy can easily become appropriation, but it has everything to do with your motivation, attitude, and experience.

I'm not sure I do appreciate the full worth of every thing I bring into my home or put on my body, but I do believe things have worth and that I add worth with my care for them. When reusing and recycling (thrifting), it's almost impossible to know the history of an item and what it meant to the previous owner. In that sense, we might never appreciate something in the way that it was first appreciated or designed to be appreciated, but at the same time, we have the opportunity to actually add value through a new appreciation of that item. I never want to seize something - an idea, an object, a look - that belongs to someone else, but instead to treasure things that I'm drawn to, even if the reasons I treasure them are different than what they were originally made for.

Create vs. Imitate
One way in which to avoid appropriating is to focus on fusion or mixing and matching. As someone with ambiguous or mixed up or layered cultural makeup, I'm typically drawing from and creating things - food, outfits, spaces, thoughts - that aren't purely of any one culture. Honestly, is anything culturally "pure" in our world? I don't think very many people would argue that being inspired isn't a great thing or that cultures don't borrow from each other in order to improve or adapt all the time!

However, to avoid making an imperfect homage to a culture or custom that I don't fully belong to, I create something distinct. For example, I found a long, red piece of cotton at the thrift store that has silver trim on each end and mirrors sewn on to it in several places. This is likely part of an Indian or Pakistani outfit. Instead of trying to wear it like a Pakistani women would (I did not find matching pieces when I bought it, anyway), I might use it as a bed canopy or a headwrap or a shawl with an evening dress (probably not an evening dress that is distinctly Central or South Asian). Being too "on the nose" with cultural imitation or appreciation can easily look like mockery to others, even if you have the best intentions. Trying to create an exact copy usually only highlights that the effort is a poor imitation. In my opinion, you can't get it "wrong" if you make something that is new, because you're the only person who's done that before, so there is no blue-print to misinterpret.

Adding something with cultural significance into a mix of other things isn't meant to veil that item's cultural significance by taking it out of context, but instead to weave it into my own identity without being costumey or running the risk of looking like I'm mocking someone else's heritage. I'm creating something new with pieces of many different things rather than imitating something that I can never fully identify with. This happens quite naturally with food because food is so tied to location by its very necessity. To truly recreate a Turkish dish, for example, I would need access to lamb in some form other than ground meat and a variety of spices in raw form. Neither of those things are easy to come by in my area of California, so I substitute and tweak. Sometimes it's sad that I can't perfectly recreate something, but at the same time, I end up making something new that has a piece of California in it, and that new fusion is distinctly mine. I don't pretend that it's perfectly Turkish and it certainly isn't native to California, but rather than degrading either of those labels, I hope that it elevates a new, third category.

Photo: My friend Karissa M. grew up in Cameroon and now carries her daughter in traditional baby sling (photo used with permission). 

Thoughtfulness vs. Consumerism
I've already stressed the necessity of being thoughtful about how we incorporate culturally significant objects or practices into our lives, but I wanted to talk about consumerism for a minute too.

There's nothing wrong with buying things that originated in other countries or cultures. We often want souvenirs of our travels, and sometimes we buy items to support the artisans that make them. In many places, selling craftwork to tourists or international markets is a main source of income for people. But I do get uncomfortable when craftwork is treated as a souvenir, in the sense that now we think that object belongs us to (because we paid for it) with no strings attached and we can be flippant about it or toss it aside when we clean out the house in a year or two. If you buy something when you travel, be willing to pay good money for something that's truly a work of art, and then treasure it for what it's worth. Don't buy junk (or treat your souvenir as junk) just for the sake of having visual representation of where you've been.

It's also makes me a bit uncomfortable when we see ourselves as benevolently lifting up "poor artisans." I'm not saying that there is no place for supporting ethnic craftsmanship, but please do so with dignity instead of out of guilt or a belief that someone else's livelihood depends on your kindness. I heard a story recently in which people who had had Western missionaries move to their area were asked about their feelings toward missionaries. The missionaries who were respected were those who treated others as equals, not as students or people who were in need of something that the missionary had. One missionary mentioned in the story had a family emergency come up in his home country. Unable to pay for a ticket home, he asked for help from the people he lived among, and that really made an impression on them, because that's how real friends treat one another - not that one party is always the giver and the other always the recipient, but that we help each other in times of need. Being humble enough to be the recipient of service is a way to show honor to others. In the same vein, don't devalue ethnic craftsman and women by underpaying or overpaying, because neither acknowledges that regardless of our circumstances, we are of equal worth in terms of our humanity.

I am still struggling with how to show dignity to people who make clothing for "fast fashion" companies like HandM, Forever 21, Topshop, Old Navy and probably Asos and Zara, to name a few. Even though clothing from these companies is generally culturally neutral, it comes at a relatively low cost to the consumer, which means that it's likely that whoever made it was not paid very well. Unfortunately, even those of us who don't work in sweat shops can't usually afford clothing that is for-sure ethically made. Buying clothes second-hand definitely alleviates some of that guilt for me because I'm not perpetuating the demand for items that can't possibly be worth as little as they sell for, but it's something I'm trying to be aware of in general as a consumer.

Historical Context and Power Dynamics
I mentioned earlier how I am drawn to things with a strong cultural feeling because I feel that I lack that in my own ancestry. I want to clarify that that general attitude can be what perpetuates appropriation. It's not that I have literally no heritage, but more that I don't identify with my ethnic heritage of French-German-British-Scottish-etc. I'm not sure if my parents do either, but even if they did, my parent's cultural identity is not my cultural identity by nature of my global upbringing, even though we share an ethnicity. On top of that, my religious background is from a church denomination that does not have ancient history or any dramatic rituals or markers such as traditional clothing, artwork, decor, rites of passage, or festivals.

I think that lack of cultural richness is common for Americans, especially because any cultural markers that we do have are so much the norm in our country that we don't even recognize them as cultural markers. Many of us then go looking for something to casually spice up our whiteness, but approach that process as if other cultures are cheap jewelry for us to take on and off as we please. It's a struggle, because I really do understand that it's strange to feel that you have no cultural meaning of your own. For those of us with more recent European ancestry ties or who are aware of a strong European cultural background, it can be a little bit tricky to lean into that, because a lot of European history and culture in the past several hundred years is very tied in with oppressing non-European cultures.

Even though we would never borrow culture from others out of spite or to degrade other people, we have to be aware that in general (speaking for white/European peoples) our ancestors and some of our contemporaries control much of the money and influence in the world. Similarly, as an American, my passport countries' military is involved in many places throughout the globe, and not always in the best way. That is a deeply emotional issue to many people, and even if my own beliefs differ from the actions of the US military or government, I still carry that association in the eyes of many others. Positions of economic or military dominance leave us with a responsibility to be aware of power dynamics and the fact that less prominent or affluent regions might be in a position of vulnerability in order to survive economically. That reality is not a free pass to export or incorporate culture at will. Imperialism is alive and well, but we don't always recognize it because we assume that what we have to offer is better than what someone else has. It's okay to believe that we have a good thing going, but it's not our job to decide whether someone else believes that too. I think it's good when cultures mix, but that mixing and sharing should be led by the person who owns that culture, not the tourist, the expat, the short term missionary, the foreign teacher, the occupying military, or even the researcher. 

Not everything needs to be branded or exported, whether physically or idealistically. Being able to travel and explore other places is a privileged, not a right, and when we use other cultures as a backdrop to our lives or as a way to get more "likes", we're being exploitative. Ethnicity is not a commodity.

Similarly, we must be wary of exoticism and voyeurism. Geishas aren't there for us to photography and Bedouins don't exist to belly dance for tourists. I don't know if modern (or ancient, for that matter) nomadic tribes belly dance at all, frankly. If you do see something that seems exotic when traveling, I think it's okay to be excited or in awe, but people aren't zoo animals. Just because it's fascinating to us doesn't mean that person or custom we're admiring is from another point in time or isn't as advanced as our home cultures or doesn't have modern worries like we do. I know all of that probably sounds obvious, but I believe it's really important to understand the habits that land us in unhealthy situations. We are all insensitive at times, but we ususally don't recognize that we've crossed a line. Even the purest of intentions can be founded in ignorance and result in damage. To avoid that, we have to open to learning and not assume that we haven't caused harm just because we didn't know or didn't mean to.

As I said before, what is and isn't appropriate is on a bit of a sliding scale, too. Even 10 years ago, there were things that almost everyone would consider fine that are now looked upon in horror. I'm sure all of my peers will remember how the word "gay" was used to mean "lame" about 15 years ago. I was never aware of that being tied to any gender-identity in the context in which I heard it and used it, and it certainly wasn't used as a slur in my circles. But today, I cringe when I hear it because it is a word that people use to describe their sexuality and if you use that word as in adjective and only ever in negative situations, it suggests that you think very little of gay people.

If we feed into a system where there is some profit in the exposition of others (performing their own cultural rituals for the sake of entertaining a crowd), those people will continue to be exploited, either by their own economic needs or by modern slave masters, even if we don't realize it. The scenario of a human zoo exhibit is very real to me. I've been treated that way and I've seen others treated that way. We have to be very careful to make sure that our interest and appreciation is tempered by an understanding of the motivation and intentions of those we are observing.

Taboos and Sacred Symbols
There are some things that are always no-nos, at least at this point in time. Slurs, hate speech, or mocking (in word or in deed) are never appropriate, not even as a joke. There are other things that have become so politically charged that I would just avoid them unless you have a legitimate ethnic claim. Usually these items or subjects are explicitly stated as sacred or taboo by those who the culture belongs to.

For example, feather headdresses are part of religious ceremonies for many Native Americans and they consider it offensive for their religious objects to be used as decoration for those who don't share their beliefs. For those who aren't Native American, there is nothing inherently wrong about wearing a feather headdress, but there's really no situation in which that's necessary and since it's been stated as disrespectful by a group of people who that imagery is clearly associated with, it's disrespectful to use their symbols outside of their sacred context. I've heard some discussion that dream catchers might be something that was co-opted into popular culture when it shouldn't have been (not so much the use of an actual dream catcher, but using the motif on shirts, etc.), but I don't know if they carry similar cultural weight as headdresses.

One taboo that was kind of difficult for me to let go of was tattoos of Arabic calligraphy. As the Koran was revealed in Arabic, it is considered sacred to many Muslims. Tattoos are traditionally forbidden in Islam, so tattoos in Arabic are considered taboo. However, when I just went a-googlin', the internet seems to have changed its mind on this topic. I asked about in a forum years ago and the response was tentative to negative, but general opinion now seems to be that it's not offensive. You might have noticed the same progression of opinion surrounding tattoos in Christian circles over the last decade (as a Christian, I never considered tattoos to be un-Biblical in nature, though there are some that would still offend me in content). I guess the moral of that story is do a little research if you're unsure. As a rule, you should never get a tattoo in a language you can't read or write. It will only be ridiculous and possibly even offensive to people who know that language. Similarly, tattoos of Buddha are very much frowned upon in Thailand, for example. Thai Buddists consider it very offensive that their religion be used as a vacation souvenir (it says so on giant signs in most airports in Thailand, haha).

Four sisters who I know who grew up in Thailand got sister-tattoos of lotuses to symbolize their shared multiculturalism. My favorite part is that each sister has a slightly different interpretation of the lotus. (photo from Kara H., used with permission)

Bindis (red forehead mark or ornament in India) and some African-origin hairstyles like cornrows are so recognizable as being native to one group and/or explicitly stated as not appropriate as ornamentation for "the masses" that I avoid those things, even in appreciation. I did get my hair braided in cornrows as a touristy thing in Thailand growing up, and there was certainly no malice in that on anyone's part, but I wouldn't do that today as an adult. I think that if you spend a great deal of time in Africa or India or again, have some legitimate connection to those cultural heritages you could make a case for wearing those styles, but otherwise I think it's risky.

I wanted to touch on blackface, too. There have been two occasions on which white friends of mine have dressed in blackface, not knowing it was very offensive to most people. Just last week, there was an incident at a frat house in our area concerning blackface that shut down the entire greek system at that school. Most people have been told at one time or another that blackface is strictly off limits, but I'm not sure that very few people know why. Especially in the area in which I live, there are very few black people and our education system doesn't do the best job at teaching these things. It's not the act of coloring your skin that is offensive in itself (cultures all over the world do this, either tanning to get darker skin or applying creams to get fairer skin, etc.). It's the historical roots of blackface that make it so unsavory. Blackface originated with white performers in the late 1800s who would caricature black people as a form of entertainment for white people. These caricatures were almost exclusively slap-stick style and portrayed black people as idiotic and incapable of serious thought or art. Many white people at the time believed that to be true of black people. So, blackface was a marker that only ever went hand in hand with mocking black people as being objects to laugh at.

Nothing that is someone's heritage should be turned into entertainment or costume. That's why ethnicity-based costumes (Native Americans, geishas, Mexicans, belly dancers, gypsies etc.) are frowned upon. If you want to dress up as a specific historical character that fits into one of those categories, go the extra mile and add some distinguishing attributes to your costume and be ready to be a fount of knowledge on who you're representing. Last year I saw a discussion thread on birthday party themes (and I would add wedding themes too) that are simply "Mexican" or "Japanese", for example. Unless you are somehow connected with those countries, their culture shouldn't be thought of as a party theme. Imagine going to a birthday party in China that was "American" themed and included Bay Watch cut out posters, soggy french fries, guns as props, and everyone wearing curly blond wigs and making jokes about the most stereotypical aspects of American culture. It would be embarrassing! Even though all of those things exist in the US, it's not a flattering or accurate depiction of American life. (Tbh, that sounds like a funny party, but that's not my point...).

I'm sure there are more symbols and subjects that are obviously inappropriate to some people that I am not aware of yet! I hope that I don't come to find out what those things are "the hard way." I try and keep my ears and eyes open and instead of rolling my eyes when "yet another thing" is claimed as sacred by one group or another, simply do what is in my power not to inflict damage if I can easily avoid doing so. I am not offended when non-Christians wear crosses or otherwise use Christian symbols - it's a symbol, not an embodiment of my belief  or some higher power - but I definitely roll my eyes when I know someone is using it with no idea of its meaning (similarly, celebrating religious holidays without any of the religious significance or belief). It doesn't hurt or offend me personally, it just makes that person look ignorant.

Learning and Teaching
For someone like me who has legitimate cultural roots unrelated to my ethnicity, and for many other people too, there's absolutely a place for borrowing, appreciating, and incorporating multiple cultures into one lifestyle. I even think it's okay to dress up as a specific historical or fictional character that is not of your own race. The key is to be educated about what you're doing, though. I want to be in a position in which if someone was to accuse me of appropriating, I could confidently explain my place in the culture that I'm not obviously from. In the case of costumes, you should be prepared to give a mini history lesson on the person you're representing, not just throw your hands up and say "I'm a Mexican!" or something. I also want to be open to hearing from someone who might criticize me in the event that they actually know more than I do and feel that I am using something out of context. If I did something thoughtlessly, I should adjust my actions. If not, I should take that opportunity to explain that plenty of people are from mixed upbringings, whether or not their physical features reflect that.

I'm also doing my best to let others speak on topics of cultures that aren't fully mine (if I'm with a Muslim friend, that friend should be able to share his or her beliefs instead of me "whitesplaining" it, even though I do have experience). No one is an expert on everything. Take every opportunity to let a culture (and its adherent) to speak for itself on what is and isn't up for grabs to the rest of the world. Different people within one culture feel differently about things too. There is huge variety in what is or is not socially acceptable among Muslims. It varies by family in my experience, just like it does in Christianity.

Always be ready to apologize if you blunder, even if whatever you did wasn't offensive to someone else in a previous situation. Also, avoid talking about things you don't understand. Confusing Chinese and Japanese culture is one of the most ignorant things to me, as they are very different. Similarly, I'm irritated by labels of "Asian", given that Asia is about 1/3 of the size of the entire globe. Why not take the time to find out where in Asia something originated? In my own life, I'm trying to be better about learning countries and their characteristics in Africa instead of talking about it like it's one homogeneous place.

Asiyami Gold is an art director who I follow on Instagram. I'm not sure what her ethnic roots are, but I really like the way she uses more traditional fabrics from her homeland in modern ways. (She's mentioned her cultural heritage before, but it's not posted anywhere and I can't remember!)

What's your take on appreciation and appropriation? I'd love to hear any good (or bad - you know I love the juicy stuff) stories you have on the topic. I'm especially interested to hear from fellow TCKs on how you explain your style to people who might assume that you're being insensitive. Does having a mixed cultural background make you feel more free to incorporate cultural aspects from places you don't have a connection with, because your identity is "everything" or "nothing"? I want to hear it all!  

Get Better Soon

I read this thought provoking and convicting essay about "Virtue Signaling" today which dovetailed so nicely with what I've been struggling to work out in my own writing. Virtue signaling is the practice of talking, talking, talking about how much we care, which is often frowned upon (the whys are explained more in the article). The main point of the article, however, was that more than the annoyance of being bombarded by causes and gut-wrenching cries from the non-oppressed, we no longer trust that our friends or celebrities or the average person on the street actually does care about what they're talking about, writing their sentiment off as a means to make themselves look better.

[image credit]

In reality, most people do care. But for me, I experience this chasm between genuinely caring and having any sense that I'm actually involved in bettering anything that I care about. I've been dedicating a lot of thought about why this is, and how I might change it.

I feel disconnected from what's happening; Charlottesville, or the tension that exploded there but is certainly not new. Pick your social disturbance - it bothers me, but I'm disconnected as things stand now. Why is that? I don't know many black people (zero close friends), few of my close friends are LGBTQ, I know very few Mexicans considering that my city is 70% Hispanic, and I know very few Muslims. It's been bothering me for ages that my Church is one of the most racially diverse churches I've been to here, with 2 Hispanic families attending the service I go to.
Why is this? Well, I rarely come in contact with anyone who isn't like me.
Why is that? I live in a neighborhood with people like me, my kids go to school with people like me, and you can only be meaningfully integrated into our church at this point if you speak English.

A Jehovah's Witness lady has been visiting me for several years now and I'm always amazed by the range of age and ethnicity in the people she brings with her (surely to show me off as the one person who takes her pamphlets ;)). She's picked up on the fact that I'm curious about the diversity of her organization so she brings it up often. I truly am amazed and put to shame by the lengths that JWs go to spread their message. Here in Santa Maria, they have members learning Masteco (a very difficult indigenous language spoken by many of the Oaxacan Mexican migrant workers) and Tagalog at the least. They have a Masteco church (?) plant here! I deeply envy their commitment, even while I know that much of their preaching must be motivated out of the fear that comes from not resting in God's grace.

At any rate, she really got me pondering something extreme. Far be it from me to be out-missioned by a Jehovah's Witness. As I've been thinking about this and struggling through learning a language myself (very poorly) for my degree and in the wake of Charlottesville, I saw one of those little Instagram motivational things that read something like, "Your life will not change unless you change something that you do daily". Initially it made me feel guilty about my iPhone use, but it stuck in my mind and I'm trying to think bigger.

We - I - don't stretch ourselves because we don't need to. We already "have it all", so there is little motivation to change anything. We lay the burden of bridge building on those who are learning our language and trying to get into our schools and neighborhoods, and then maybe we'll end up being friends once they are more like us. These are my observations about my own life after contemplating for a long time why I don't have interactions with anyone that lead me to feel personally invested in the larger struggle going on in our nation, and frankly has been for a long, long time.

Do we really want things to change? I mean, think hard about it, be truly honest with yourself - do YOU want to change? I don't really. I'm pretty happy with what I have and where I am. What's happening "out there" hasn't changed my day to day life at all. But if for no other reason than selfish self preservation, I can see that if I don't take a serious interest in the Gospel - which is meant to be shared - and being loud about what I believe my country should be, then the life I've been resting on will not be available to my children. Some of the harm that is befalling our country is because we have wronged others. Not only do I need to stop wronging others, I need to actually start being proactive about reaching out to others.

For me, there is danger in making my civic duty a box that I can check - I cared (check), I wrote an essay (check), I made a statement (check), I gave some money (I'm not thattt committed), I called a senator (check), I attended a rally (also haven't gotten even this invested). But for me as a white woman who is not currently scrounging for pennies, those are all reactionary steps and they don't really change my perspective or my involvement in a lasting way. From personal experience, what changes me and what lasts in my life are relationships. So how can I build relationships that really make me "an ally", not simply a bystander with a megaphone?

The number one thing I'm trying to remember is that given my privileges, I can and should choose not to use them sometimes. For me personally, that means that I don't have to be the one talking just because I can talk without getting into too much trouble. I can talk less and listen a lot more, because whatever it is that is going on here is not something that I understand on a personal level. I shouldn't pretend that I've felt the pain that many are feeling right now. But I can listen. And then, I can get serious.

I can learn a language so I can go to them instead of waiting for them to come to me.
I can move to a neighborhood or a city where being forgotten by the government or having to put extra effort into educating my child becomes my problem too.
I can travel (which is certainly a luxury) so that I can remember that there is a lot more to the world than my version of it, and so that my children can grow up with an intense knowledge of the same.
I can send my children to public schools and hopefully a dual-immersion (English-Spanish) program so they grow up with slightly less of a barrier between the world they were born into and the world that many other Americans experience.

I'm not saying these steps aren't drastic or hard - I'm saying that anything less than drastic or difficult isn't really going to change our hearts. Is the Gospel worth that trouble to me? Because it is going to be troublesome, but I dare say we are not called to mediocrity.

In asking you to care more and care harder, I'm not trying to say that you don't care at all as things stand now. There are important things that I don't care about enough to do or say anything significant about - I believe in at least some version of climate change, but that's not a battle I've chosen to invest in. I believe that life begins at conception, but I will never picket Planned Parenthood and don't plan to write so much as an essay on my views on the matter at this point. Those are not the fights I'm choosing to pick. It's taken me a long time to realize that no amount of berating can make other people care as much about the things that I have chosen to care deeply about. In a spiritual context, God lays different things on different hearts, and it's really none of my business to judge you for not doing the things that I'm called to. I trust that there are things you care about that you're thinking about and trying to do something meaningful about. But, if you are like me and expend energy talking about how torn our social fabric is and are wanting to support people who are not as well off as you, may I suggest that we - I - need to step up our game and get better soon on a day-to-day basis. 

On Being Political

I've been in a major funk the past week or two, which is why all has been quiet on the political opinions front. ;) There's no shortage of things to talk about, but it's also incredibly overwhelming to try and process the current political scene. Ever since reading that February is the month in which the most people commit suicide each year, my mild depression has been almost a self-fulfilling prophesy. No small part of this funk is due to politics. But still, one of the things that's been gnawing at me the most is the prevalent attitude on Facebook that anyone talking about politics is a thorn in the side of everyone else. It's so smug, and I hate it.

Image: me feeling smug about other people being smug. Meta, baby. 

I'm often afraid that I'm losing readers between the ending of one paragraph and the beginning of the next. As always, I'm sort of working through my own thoughts as I write, but hear me out if you can.

I know that this prevalent dismissal of political rhetoric comes from a place that is well-meaning. Plenty of people can't talk about politics on social media without becoming despicable and plenty of lies are perpetuated with a simple "share". There's a completely valid option to just say nothing at all relating to politics on social media, and I've definitely taken that option more than usual lately. But saying "let's not be political" or "I'm so tired of all the politics" isn't really necessary if what you really want is to not engage in anything political. If you're "tired of all this talk", take a leave from Facebook quietly. We need not announce how exhausted we are by other people's lives crumbling, because that's more often than not what's at the heart of politics.

I know that some people are willing to have political discussions in person or with people they have safe and respectful relationships with, and just avoid those topics online. Even so, there's this rule I hear voiced all the time in in-person situations to "not talk about politics". Indeed, preserving relationships is more important than debating opinions, and I respect that, but I have two main reasons that I think the call to be silent on politics is *thumbs down* (can't think of quite the right word). First, there's an oft-cited myth that sharing your opinion never changes anyone's mind. Personally, I change my mind all the time. There is nothing more valuable to me than a well argued, well substantiated point of view that differs from mine. It's nice to have friends that post stuff I agree with, but it's even better when I come to understand that other people see the world differently than I do.

I recently heard that 25% of people on social media are set in their opinions to the point that arguing with them is pointless and a waste of energy. These are the ones that are the loudest and that we naturally want to argue with, no matter what "side" they are on or we are on. Perhaps they are also the ones who post the most obnoxious and polarizing political opinions. I think it's perfectly fine not to engage with that group if you're looking to free yourself from exhausting and fruitless political banter. Another 25% already agree with you. The middle 50% are the quietest. They may be considering changing their minds or becoming active about what they believe in, but they need encouragement to get into action. That 50% may find real value in your political or spiritual views, but we must approach this opportunity with gentleness, not disdain.

The second beef I have with the "no politics" attitude is that being "above politics" (even if you don't label yourself that in so many words) is a luxury that basically only middle-class white people have. Most people in this world and even in this country don't have the option of not being political, and so for us to refuse to be political is to ignore the things that fundamentally alter other people's lives. I'm not saying that God isn't above politics, but I think you will notice that when anything we hold dear is threatened by those around us or those in power, we quickly become political (whether or not that's on Facebook).

So what does it mean to be political? I've loved Rufus Wainwright since basically forever, but I love him for this all the more:

When I looked it up, the definition was: 

Politics (from Greek: Politiká: Politika, definition "affairs of the cities") is the process of making decisions applying to all members of each group. More narrowly, it refers to achieving and exercising positions of governance — organized control over a human community, particularly a state.

Can you imagine if we made love and truth political in this sense? An affair of our cities? Concepts that informed our decisions that apply to all members of each group? That is, in essence, the Great Commission. 

If your family is divided by borders, you become political. If you can't save your child's life because you can't access healthcare, you become political. If police kill your baby under dubious circumstances and face no consequences, you become political. If your wife is a police officer and can't do her most basic duties without fearing for her life, you become political. If the government is trying to strip you of your last ounce of dignity on the last plot of land that you can call your own, you become political. If you can't feed your family without a job pumping oil, you become political.
If I may dare to say it, if you are brave, you become political. If you want to take the words of Jesus and put them into practice in a world full of humans, you probably have to become political in some sense. The words and example of Jesus demand that we care for people cast aside, and it's almost impossible to do that without being political in a world that operates under the authority of governments.

If you've never found yourself that forces you to become political (I haven't!), than consider yourself extremely blessed and be aware that most people aren't as blessed in that way. The reason that we are exasperated by politics is because we are not threatened in our areas of identity.

This slide from a conference I was at recently stuck out to me.


Being political isn't just about having debates on Facebook or re-posting memes. You don't have to engage in political conversations, but important conversations often have political roots and ramifications. Doing much of anything of consequence will often arouse the ire of at least a handful of people, but that shouldn't be condemned. Sometimes it's entirely necessary. Taking a stance means that you're drawing a divide between you and something or someone else. We're not meant to be neutral in all situations. The good Samaritan's actions had political meaning. The Underground Railroad was political. Corrie Ten Boom was defying her government by harboring Jews, which was political. In light of this, we should not shush people from being political, even if it's on Facebook. Talking the talk is a good stop on the way to walking the walk. I suspect that life is going to get a *lot* more political before our work is done.

Again, I completely get it that a lot of people who post political things on Facebook aren't there to have a meaningful conversation, they're there to feel right-er than everyone else. Brush it off. Let that stuff roll off you like water. Unfollow if you must. But don't demonize politicism, because politics are part of real life, and Facebook is an avenue by which many people share their real lives. Instead of saying what you're against ("being political"), find something that you're "for" and get involved.

To my Christian friends, I understand that the Kingdom of God is not of this world. But that doesn't mean that we sit back and ignore the practical calls to action that Jesus gave to be enacted in this world. Jesus did not come to Earth to overthrow the Romans who were oppressing the Jews during his lifetime. He did, however, send his disciples to witness and love Samaritans, and that was a hugely political issue at the time. Preston Yancey said, "If you don't see Jesus as decidedly political in the Gospels, put some blame on your Sunday school teachers for not being equipped with the historical context necessary to see them in that light. " 

I take comfort in knowing that my God is bigger than politics, bigger than the refugee crisis, bigger than President Trump. AMEN. But my hope in my God should never remove me from struggling for goodness and justice on Earth, even as I am fully aware that man can never redeem himself and that we will never be able to fix this world.

If our faith is genuine, it must drive us to action. If our brothers and sisters both in the US and abroad, both Christian and Muslim, conservative and liberal - if they are suffering and can not avoid being political, we must rush to be political along side them. This means treating "rednecks" with dignity, because they feel deprived of it. This means advocating for Christians who are being massacred by ISIS. This means advocating for Muslims who are being massacred by ISIS. This means praying for our brothers and sisters who are members of ISIS, because they too are created in the image of God. We live in a political world, and to refuse to take part in any political actions means to refuse to stand by those who are suffering and do not have the luxury of avoiding political situations.

A note about marches - I have yet to participate in one, but on the day of the Women's March, I could not shake my regret at not taking part. I think peaceful protest is very important. Even if it has no affect on our president, it speaks to the marginalized, whether that is women or immigrants or other groups. Seeing hundreds of thousands of people, some of whom you undoubtedly know, pouring out into the streets sends a message that many of us are not okay with the actions our government is taking, and we are so not-okay with them that we're willing to say so in public (even beyond Facebook!). That is worth something. It also helps us to see with our own eyes who are our allies and who we may serve. I'm not saying that the people who didn't march or who opposed the march are my enemies, but it seems incredibly empowering to stand with so many people on a physical street instead of liking a post on Facebook (which I did a heck of a lot of during the women's march). It's empowering to see that even as we feel frustrated and helpless, we won't give up on one another. People are donating their time and money and talent to causes on both sides of the aisle in numbers seldom seen before and it feels like the very most American thing.

I've been thinking a lot about what it means to be a racist. I really try and avoid calling anyone a racist anymore, because being accused of racism shuts the accused down immediately. Furthermore, I have come to see myself as a racist. Furtherfurthermore, as the ever quotable MLK said, "for evil to succeed, all it needs is for good men [and women] to do nothing." Our complacency - our unwillingness to be political, our unwillingness to get our hands dirty, our unwillingness to be disliked - does nothing to stem racism, and therefore allows it to thrive. What is that, if not racism? Racism is refusing to see someone else's suffering as your problem too.

I'm learning that my politics are worthless without love. I have a lot of [what I feel is] righteous anger over what's going down in this country right now, but as I advocate out of righteous anger, I must also practice radical love. That's not something I made up, that's Biblical. Love does indeed trump hate, and that includes hatred for those who have stood in the way as I've sought to do what God is calling me to do. The specifics of what I'm feeling called to is a separate conversation, but it is communal so I welcome private messages from anyone who wants to know more or get involved.

It's a struggle, a daily struggle, to balance righteous anger with overflowing love. People think I'm too young and naive to talk about the things I do or act on the convictions that I have. It stings, but it's really none of my concern. The more we are resisted, the fiercer we will love. Not everyone who loves Jesus is called to serve in the same ways, but please do not thwart me in what my God has called me to do. Please do not ask me not to talk about these things in public, either.

Sometimes I get people warning me that I'm on the brink of "falling away", or something. I try and listen critically so I can be open to knowing what my faults are, but overall, on the contrary to falling away, I am leaning in. I am putting my money where my mouth is. I am putting my foot into the Red Sea, which God did not part for His people until their toes touched the water. Quite honestly, I do not care what most people think of my politics, I care what Jesus thinks of my actions.

If you thought I was political before, buckle up my friend. I am coming out of my shell. Maybe talking less, but striving to DO more. So with moderate respect, I request that you get behind me, ye mansplainers, ye who take it upon yourselves to tell me that I've misinterpreted God's calling on my life, and yes, ye politicians who care nothing for Truth.

Rarely, if ever, have I felt more patriotic, and I'm also in awe of how relevant the Bible is to a political life. It's driving me to cast aside political labels and consider fewer people my adversaries, even as I grow stronger in my convictions. There are innumerable opportunities presenting themselves in which we can be ambassadors for Christ's name, regardless of religion or politics or documentation status. Jesus never asked those questions of people.

What a wonderful thing to see shaky pillars of our government bring lovers of good, lovers of kindness, lovers of truth out of the woodwork. I know many great men and women who have shifted from talking on Facebook to reaching out to their neighbors in tangible ways. But let me add, I still see a place for sharing politics on Facebook. I see it like this - Step 1: saying it on Facebook (it's somewhat safer than IRL and involves a lot less commitment), Step 2: taking your Facebook opinions to the street (or more IRL conversations), testing out how much you really believe in them, Step 3: committing to working with and for real people for the long haul in your home community, Step 4: inviting people to join you, perhaps via Facebook ;). For pushing me to take steps 2 and 3, I thank you, Mr. President!

As a follow-up to the implications of getting political on behalf of those who are suffering, I was struck by reading one journalist's observation that "marching is a seductive substitute for action." In this country, marching hasn't cost us very much yet. I think it is good to march in some cases, but what's even better is to incorporate your convictions into your daily life. Seek out ways to help in your own neighborhood. Tutor immigrants to help them in school. Invite Muslims to your home to share a meal with you. Invite your neighbors with the Trump sign still in their yard to your home to share a meal with you. Ask your church leadership how your place of worship can incorporate the Latino community in your midst. Listen to the stories of war veterans. And if your school or your church or some other group can not act quickly, just start it yourself. The concept of Church (as in the body of Christ) does not cost money, does not wait for permission, does not have to get a degree first. Jesus has already commissioned us, so GO!

Here I am, Lord. Send me. Make me political for your glory.