I Must Speak, I Must Listen

I must speak. I cannot stay quiet. As I said in my last post, I lost my voice for a little while due to grief. But my voice is coming back.

I'm sure some would rather I stay silent. They'd rather me not get "political", especially on social media. Some would like to delete issues of injustice from their present reality the way they block Facebook friends with whom they disagree.

You see, for me speaking out on issues of social justice is essential to being true to myself, my community, the values I was raised with, and most certainly of all my faith and moral compass.

I am of the opinion that many people stay silent because it's too risky to speak. Some might say that for those of us who are white, staying silent is the epitome of white privilege and entitlement. We don't want to speak out publicly for people of color or people of a different religion or sexual orientation because we fear it will upset our safe, neat categories at home, school, or church. 

The truth is, none of us lives in a place of safe, neat categories anymore. The internet has changed all that. So has the smart phone.

We live in a land of diversity whether in the heart of New York City or the peaceful, backwoods of small town America.

Lines are blurred now. They most certainly always have been, we just lived as if they weren't. Life is most often lived in shades of grey. Rigid categories don't work very well. The may protect us but they also keep our neighbor out.

I need my neighbor. All of them, whether I want to admit it or not. We are all in this together, and none of us really make it out alive anyway.

I need my neighbors who are different. I need to learn from her experience. I need to listen deeply when he speaks. I need to understand that the color of my skin gives me a qualitatively different experience than that of my sisters and brothers of color. I must understand that with that privilege comes greater responsibility to make room for everyone.

I learned this from a colleague a few years ago. She stated to me, "Jonathan, we have to tell our black sons what to not say and not do when they get pulled over by a police officer. You'll never have that experience. Our black sons are more at risk at being shot than you."

She is very correct.

I must speak, and I also must listen.

I listened last week to a colleague tell me about the times he has been stopped by police for doing nothing wrong. The color of his skin made him suspect. Listening to him made me pause, reflect, inquire, and hear more than just his words but also his deep, emotional experience that is very different from mine. I found a new place of compassion for him, and we now share a deeper connection due to his courageous vulnerability.

This last week I have mourned for my nation. I have mourned for the people beaten and the life of Heather Heyer.

But I too have mourned for my white sisters and brothers who fear speaking out. I have mourned for the white Christians who are trapped so deeply in religious strictures that they can't see beyond their toxic theology. I have mourned for the white supremacists, neo-Nazis, and other fascist groups that feel emboldened by this American President's tolerance for white supremacy, classism, hate, and intolerance.

Be wary of those who stay silent in this hour. Their silent increases hate and wickedness in this land. 

We must become more tolerant, inclusive, accepting, understanding and embracing of those who are different than ourselves. We must boldly denounce those who subjugate others on the basis of their gender, sex, race, ethnicity, religion, sexual orientation, or nationality. We must see beyond these categories to each other's common humanity.

Einstein said:

A human being is part of the whole, called by us ‘universe,’ a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings, as something separate from the rest — a kind of optical delusion of consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.

We need to speak boldly, but not so loudly that we can't be heard.  To my white sisters and brothers, now is the time we must also listen. I encourage you to sit down with someone who is different than yourself and listen to their story. You might find you have more in common with them than you think.