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Birthdays and Anti-Racism

My youngest grandson turned a year-old recently. We were unable to have all the family gathered due to COVID, but six of us shared the day with him. No one should have to go without celebration for their first birthday! It was just my brother-in-law and his wife, my stepson and granddaughter, and my wife and I – and of course, Easton.

I always have a slight amount of tension around my wife’s family. They tend to be ultra-conservative and well, I’m not. They don’t hesitate to voice their opinions freely, much to my dismay. I cringe when I hear the references to Fox News and quoting right wing radio hosts. I try to hold my tongue with family members outside of my wife and kids as they degenerate from a discussion to an argument and hard feelings quickly.

The get-together was going smoothly with Easton the center of attention – but once gifts were opened, and he went down for a nap, things changed. A commercial talking about “Black History Month” came on. My brother-in-law commented, “What about white history month?”

My stepson remarked that “he and his daughter were just talking about that the other day”. In the background I could hear my sister-in-law saying something about special treatment and tearing monuments down. I was livid but held my tongue; taking a moment to ponder the consequences. I had to get up and go outside. Mom always said, “if you can’t say anything nice then don’t say anything at all”.

I came back in later. The conversation had shifted, and my in-laws were preparing to leave. Good-byes were said and we got ready to go as well. My stepson wanted to go outside and smoke before we left. I saw this an opportunity to say something about the racist comments made. If we don’t talk about issues of white supremacy (“Why don’t we have a ‘white’ history month”) and why that’s a racist comment, then we can never teach each other how to love and how to overcome structural racism.

I explained to him that the history we’ve grown up with is white history – seen through the lens of white privilege and supremacy. My wife reminded him that “white” history is yearlong. That’s why Black History Month is so necessary.

There’s a huge difference in being a “non”-racist and an “anti”-racist. Non-racists still judge people of color by very white standards which is the subtle form of white supremacy that infects so many. Non-racists seldom take the time to step outside their comfort zone. Even if they’ve began to understand issues of white supremacy, guilt, and fragility they remain silent in the face of the very racism they claim to void of. Silence is complicity.

An anti-racist is someone who raises a voice in situations like my grandson’s party – opposing white supremacy and structural racism in its various manifestations. Anti-racism makes for some uncomfortable conversations, both with family and with friends who haven’t awakened to its depths among white society.

I missed an opportunity with my brother in-law and his wife. I’m not sure that it would’ve been a conversation as much as an argument. I was relieved when they left if I’m honest.

I spent some time with Ms. Opal Lee recently and I told her about what happened and how I felt about it. I felt guilty for the missed opportunity. She reminded me that “if people can be taught how to hate, they can be taught how to love”. This doesn’t happen in a classroom or a church. This happens one-on-one – we intentionally seek out one person and open the door to conversation – which requires seeing and hearing someone even if we don’t agree. “Each one, teach one…”

I’m honored to be surrounded by great teachers. Black History Month is a great opportunity to learn how to listen and how to love. It’s full of a richness that the predominant white culture has failed to share.

“There is no Jew or Greek. There is no slave or free person. There is no male or female… You are all one… Abrahams descendants…” Paul’s Letter to the Galatians 3.28 ff (NIRV)

Black History Month 2021
Celebrate Black History Month

Learn more about Black History Month, Juneteenth, and Unity at http://www.unityunlimited.org and www.opalswalk2dc.com.

From Globe News Wire

Ms. Opals will be at the National Press Club this Wednesday, February 25th to celebrate Black History Month. The celebration will be livestreamed at 11:00 AM (EST) at: To register for the in-person press conference email marketing@invnt.comTo tune in virtually via YouTube from 11:30am EST click here.
Click here to tune in virtually via Facebook from 11:30am EST.
To sign Ms. Opal’s Change.org petition visit her website.

About Ms. Opal Lee
Ms. Opal is the oldest living board member of the National Juneteenth Observance Foundation (NJOF) that was founded and led by the late Dr. Ronald Myers, Sr., whose initiative is for Juneteenth to become a national holiday. To bring awareness to the cause, she started her Opal’s Walk 2 DC campaign in 2016, where she walked 2.5 miles to symbolize the 2.5 years that it took for slaves in Texas to know that they were free. Ms. Opal launched a petition to make Juneteenth a national holiday on Change.org, and in September 2020 delivered the 1.5 million signatures it had received to Congress. Ms. Opal believes that freedom should be celebrated from the 19th of June to the 4th of July. Head here for more.

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About Unity Unlimited, Inc.
Unity Unlimited, Inc. is a non-profit organization whose main mission is providing educational activities and resources to people, young and old, to foster unity and harmony within the community, the city, the state, the nation and the world regardless of race, culture or denomination. For more information visit: www.unityunlimited.org/

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“An individual has not begun to live until [they] can rise above the narrow horizons of [their] particular individualistic concerns to the broader concerns of all humanity.” – Martin Luther King Jr.

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#PeaceWithJustice – Inauguration Week 2021

I finished my morning prayer and meditation on the porch this morning and headed for the desk. I found this gem from Chalice Press in my inbox and had to share it with you all. Chalice Press is a great publisher with some amazing writers.

In honor of this Martin Luther King Jr. Day, we share this prayer from Rev. Dr. Michael W. Waters from his new book, Something in the Water: A 21st Century Civil Rights Odyssey.

A PRAYER FOR HOLY SOLES

Dear God,

teach me to pray

with my feet.

The steps of the ancestors were sturdy and strong.

They somehow carried them to cut down strange fruit

dangling in the breeze.

Up and down Montgomery’s hills,

To mass meetings, lunch counters, and courthouses

To face canines, tear gas, and water hoses

As bullets and bombs wrought martyrs,

Their blood still crying out from the deep.

LORD God,

teach me to pray with my feet.

For those felled while adorned with hoodie, for those who still can’t breathe, for those whose hearts have been broken under the weight of fathers suffocated on the street,

with hands raised,

“Don’t shoot!”

For Water Protectors,

For Flint,

For Women,

For Refugees,

For Hijab-wearing Sisters and their Brothers,

For the Dreamers,

LORD God Almighty,

teach me how to pray

with my feet,

That I might become a drum major for justice,

To march around Jericho’s walls

And monuments to White Supremacy,

Till they come stumbling down;

That I might say,

As did Mother Pollard to young Martin,

“My feets is tired, but my soul is rested.”

And that You, LORD God almighty,

May one day say to me,

“You have beautiful feet.”

Amen.

The Reverend Dr. Michael W. Waters is founding pastor of Abundant Life African Methodist Episcopal (A.M.E.) Church in Dallas, Texas. As a pastor, professor, award-winning author, activist, and social commentator, his words of hope and empowerment inspire national and international audiences. (from Chalice Press newsletter, 1/18/2021

Photo by Unseen Histories on Unsplash

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There is Much to be Thankful for Even When It Feels Like There Isn’t…

We finished our Thanksgiving Dinner a couple of hours ago. Our two younger kids, Paul and River, took care of preparing the meal and cleaning up afterward this year. It was the greatest gift of the holiday (They did a bang-up job by the way!) Margaret wasn’t up to all the physical activity and I was, well, blah.

The holidays are harsh reminders of the loss of my son Jeremy this year. I used to wonder why some people had such a difficult time during the holidays. Now I know.

The week hasn’t been conducive to thankful feelings. On Tuesday, we were finally allowed to clear out Jeremy’s apartment and Art Studio. Everything’s been on hold as he died intestate – no will and minor children – and the court finally ordered the necessary letters to the apartment management. The owner is a local Fort Worth real estate developer that denied us access until we had a court order despite pleas from our family. We still wonder if any of Jeremy’s art is missing. Oh well. Everything is in storage now and out of their hands.

I was flooded with memories and emotion as I went through his belongings. I’ve tried to be strong throughout this process, but I haven’t done well. I feel and function. That’s it. I miss my son and the holidays are a cruel reminder of loss rather than a season of joy and gratitude.

I had to spend time today writing down the things for which I’m thankful because I know I have much to be grateful for even during this crazy, wild-ass year. Gratitude is a verb, not a noun. Sometimes I simply put it in black and white, make it tangible and concrete, and say thanks even when I don’t feel particularly grateful. It makes the whole grief thing a bit easier.

Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com

The first thing I wrote down was my breakfast this morning with my oldest son, Adrian. We started a holiday tradition of having breakfast at Old South Pancake House every Thanksgiving and Christmas morning. Our time together can be lost juggling holiday schedules with adult children, grandchildren, and blended extended families. It’s a time just for us and it’s even more special this year. It was risky going out in public even with social distancing, masks, and hand sanitizer. Covid numbers are surging upward here, but my time with him was worth it.

I’m thankful for family and friends that love me and don’t try to fix my broken heart. They occasionally remind me that God’s got this when I get in a deep, dark place, but they still allow me the room to grieve. Not everyone does that. Well-intentioned people say some screwed-up things to grieving parents. I’m grateful my close friends and family allow me to be where I am emotionally, even when it’s uncomfortable for them. We’ll all get through this together.

This has been a messed-up year, but in the middle of the madness I’ve found something to be grateful for. That gives me hope. It won’t always feel like this…

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“Do not judge me by my success, judge me by how many times I fell down and got back up again.” – Nelson Mandela

“If life knocks you down nine times you get up ten”, Edgar would always tell me. The greatest compliment I’ve ever received was “there’s no quit in him”. Despite failures (and there have been many!) I’ve kept pressing forward. Thank you to all those who stand up again. You’ve shown me what persistence means.

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