Black Only?

Okay, so perhaps you agree that having a Black History Month does make sense. I mean we all had to know the names of white Americans to graduate to the next grade level, but the histories of people of color have always been optional, elective, or unavailable. But what about the other stuff? 

Black Miss America

Jet Magazine 

BET 

Black professional groups 

Black student groups

and other "black only" things in America? Surely if any of these things were "white only" the black community would be in an uproar! Black Twitter would come alive and ruin the careers of anyone who even hinted that we should have white only versions of these things, right?! 

Well, so much things to say. Lets take this step by step. 

Since 1492, when Columbus sailed the ocean blue this country started a recored of European domination that resulted in a number of "white only" practices. Freedom was white only. Home ownership was white only. Literacy was white only. Land ownership was white only. Voting was white only. Politics was white only. Equal representation under the law was white only. (And many of these were white male only.) So America has a pretty steeped history of racial dividing lines, but that history was created by white people. 

When these freedoms became (theoretically) possible for people of color, white folks quickly adopted Jim Crow laws, effectively barring us from occupying the same space as white people. For decades black folks got creative and began our own alternatives.  

Miss Black America was founded in 1968 when black women were not considered beautiful enough to place in the Miss America pageant. In fact, the first first black faces to appear on stage at Miss America did so in 1923… as slaves in a musical number. In the 1930's the Pageant formalized its racism by writing into the rule book that only women of the white race could could compete. A black woman would not place as a contestant until 1970, and wouldn't win until 1984. The racism of the Miss America Pageant did not hold back black women from celebrating one another. 

Jet magazine was started in 1951 when white magazines expressed no interest in presenting the beauty of African American women. In 1965 Harpers Bazaar used a sketch of a black woman as its first African American on the cover, before allowing her photo to appear. Ladies Home Journal didn't feature a black woman on the cover until 1968. Seventeen Magazine's first issue with a black woman on the cover was in 1971. American Vogue didn't place a black woman on their cover until 1974.  Even now, many of these magazines (and others) rarely feature black people on the covers. Magazines like Jet, Ebony and Essence have been sitting on our coffee tables for decades, telling our stories of beauty and success, histories and hopes of the future. 

BET is a relatively new business venture started in 1980, but it stands within a long history of creating our own media, much like black magazines. The creation of black media arguably started in 1827 with the Freedom Journal, our country's first African American owned and operated newspaper. Since the creation of the Freedom Journal, African Americans have produced newspapers, magazines, and yes even cable channels that are specifically targeted to meet the needs of African Americans. But don't be mistaken, when BET was created, MTV rarely showcased black artists in its video line-up until Michael Jackson broke the color barrier in the mid 80s. The creation of BET took new ground by purposefully featuring black artists and their range of music. 

The first historically black greek organization was created as a safe haven for minority students in a white college. Alpha Phi Alpha "initially served as a study and support group for minority students who faced racial prejudice, both educationally and socially, at Cornell." Other greek organizations started sprouting up across the country to meet various challenges and needs. Greek organizations have a history of service, fellowship, academics, and professional networking. 8 of the Divine Nine were created decades before the Civil Rights Movement. 

As segregation ended and America groaned under the weight of no longer discriminating against people of color in hiring decisions, black professionals realized that organizing, meeting, networking and promoting one another was one way to stay on top of professional opportunities. Many black professional organizations were birthed in the 70's- as a way to stay connected to one another, and as an opportunity to be available to the black community. 

I realize that even after this history lesson, someone still has two questions. 1. Why is all of this still in place now that segregation is over and 2. Wouldn't I still be mad if a group was formed for whites only? 

Let me begin with the first question. Many of these organizations, media, and alternatives exist because of resistance to integration, and have consequently been a part of black life for a long time. Alpha Phi Alpha has been around since 1906! It has a long history and tradition that didn't end just because of integration. Generations of black men and women have participated these greek-life organizations. Jet magazine has been sitting on coffee tables for 3 generations in my family. It is a household staple that didn't disappear when mainstream media finally decided to place black women (occasionally) on magazine covers. Our alternatives have become traditions. And we fell in love with those traditions while white people segregated themselves away. That love, devotion, trust and credibility didn't end with integration.  

Ok, on to the heart of your question about a double standard- Black folks can do this. White people can't.

1. Well, first I'd like to remind you once more that many of these were created during segregation (some during slavery). Our alternatives didn't pop up last week to make white folks upset.

2. America has a long, long history of forming white only organizations. KKK anyone? White neighborhood covenants. White Miss America Pageant. White drinking fountains, movie theaters, hotels, bus stations, bathrooms, hospitals, classrooms, and churches. We should not pretend that white only spaces never existed. "White only" was quite normal only a couple generations ago.

3. White only organizations DO still exist. I know we don't want to talk about them, but white nationalist, separatist groups exist around the world, including here in America. The KKK is but one among many, and the organization still has rallys to remind us where they stand.

4. There are plenty of organizations that don't have to write "white only" into their bylaws for African Americans to recognize whether or not we are welcome. There are still plenty of churches that have all white congregations. There are mainstream magazines that can go a year (or years) without acknowledging the existence of people of color. Television shows and movies can have all white casts. Private elementary and high schools can have all white attendance with only one or two people of color among hundreds of students. The Miss America pageant can go years without crowing a woman of color. (And despite having just done so, the crowning of Nina Davuluri was met with a furry of racist commentary). 

5 .Finally, I think its important to note that white ethnic organizations DO exist! I walked by the Swedish American Museum in Chicago last week. There are organizations for German-Americans, Irish-Americans, Italian-Americans, French-Americans and so on. They may not be titled "white" but it is doubtful there are many people of color in these clubs, organizations, affiliations, museums, alliances and chambers of commerce. Perhaps if African Americans hadn't been stripped of the knowledge of our heritage we would term our alternatives "Ethiopian-American" or "Nigerian-American" or "Angolan-American" but we don't have that luxury. So Black-American or African-American will have to suffice right alongside European- American organizations. 

Here, I can only speak for myself, but I have no need to riot against these organizations. I have written no letters, stated no outcry, nor rallied Black Twitter around this cause. Just as black-Americans have a long history of organizing for various reasons, so too have other white ethnic groups. But lets be clear, white ethnic organizations do exist. 

So, no, I do not consider black organizations to be racist, nor are they a double standard. All of these ethnic affiliations, in one way or another, have risen from our history of segregation. Their continued existence tells us that our integration efforts may not have been as successful as we would have ourselves believe.

Let us continue in this business of learning each other's history, of celebrating one another, of advocating for each other. Let us work to understand one another and our varied experiences of America, whether historic or current.    

 

***Update*** It is also important to know that most "black" organizations are not really "black only" the NAACP, Greek-Life, Miss Black America, HBCU's and professional orgs are open to others. In fact, the HBCU where my grandparents attended in the early 50s is now majority white.    

White History Month

Yep, its that time of year when every black history hashtag will be met with cries of "foul!" and retaliatory questions like, "Why don't we have a white history month?" Every year there is a backlash, whether large or small from white folks who feel that this dedication to black history falls into the "reverse discrimination" and "special treatment" category. Contrary to popular belief, not all black folks feel the same way about black history month either. There are some who charge that having a month dedicated to black history perpetuates the idea that our history is somehow separate from America's history. 

To both I respectfully say, "Phooey". 

I also sadly say, "Phooey".

I wish there was no need to dedicate a special month to recounting black history. I wish there was no need for "special treatment" throughout the month of February. I wish black history (and asian histories and first nation histories and southern american histories) were told as commonly as white eurocentric history. I wish that hearing about black men and women inventors, leaders, heroes, struggles, and victories were embedded in our language, our history books, our media, our schools. I wish that sharing black history was so common, I couldn't tell it was black history month by looking at PBS's line up for the month. (Grateful though I am for the line up). How wonderful it would be to not need a Black History Month.

But we are not there yet.

In school I had to learn about all the presidents of the United States, long before there was a black one. I had to learn about the generals of the civil war, but had no idea that black Americans were fighting in the war, too. There were three paragraphs dedicated to black history in my elementary education. 1. Slavery, in which I had to learn the name of Eli Whitney and his cotton gin; heaven forbid I learn the name of just one slave. 2. Civil Rights in which I learned about the "good negro" Martin and the "bad negro" Malcolm. 3. Oh, wait. There was no third paragraph. My bad.  I had to take every chance I could to sneak a black face into my own education. Book report due- I choose Harriet Tubman. Essay to write- I'll focus on women in the Civil Rights Movement. I have to read a book over the summer- How about Invisible Man.  Like many black Americans, I created my own education with the help of parents, the church, and my beloved books. 

But this isn't where things ended. I was required to take a course on European History, but no courses were offered about anyone else's history. I had to learn church history, but the church in Africa was missing from the story. Far beyond curriculum woes, there was an absence of understanding. Ice breakers that started with "Where is your family from?" ripped a hole through the hearts of every African American in the room. Classmates answer- French and English or Irish and Greek. Some answer Chile or Mexico. And others Korea or Japan. As the responses snake their way around the room, some declaring their responses boldly with pride, others are unsure and timid. But soon comes the group who wish they knew. Wish there was a response. Wish a DNA test wouldn't be necessary to be any more specific than… Africa. 

And so too the analogies that made no sense to me- skiing and sailing and surfing. Sitting in class trying to decipher the analogy that was supposed to make another concept clearer was (is) frustrating. I don't get perms, I get relaxers. I don't need to wash my hair once a day, little health book, but thanks for the suggestion. 

And how I wish it ended in the classroom. How I wish that with adulthood came a sudden realization that black history is celebrated everywhere except the classroom. But when I step out into the world, whiteness is everywhere. Not just white people, but whiteness. Its in the art of doctors, dentists, practices, hotels, restaurants. Smiling faces of white folks, abstract art painted by white hands, some of it quite beautiful but rarely reflective of the diversity that is America. Whiteness is celebrated on magazine covers, billboards, commercials and awards shows. Whiteness is the default in movies and television. (I will never understand how shows set in any major city can consist of an all white cast.) Whiteness is the default in Christian conferences and symposiums. We all have to think really hard to come up with faces of color that meet the "standards" of planners. Whiteness is clearly valued in Christian bookstores and Christian movies and Christian fiction and certainly theology. Whiteness is celebrated everywhere.

And so I ask for a month. One month. 4 weeks. To watch faces that look like me on PBS. To hear stories that sound like mine on NPR. To learn something new about an inventor, creator, speaker, teacher that history would otherwise forget, if not for black history month. I choose to retell the stories of my own family, my ancestors who survived. I choose to celebrate Black History Month, and will continue to do so until a special month is no longer necessary. I reserve the right to determine for myself if/when that will be… but its not today. So happy black history month!  

The Tipping Point

In the book, American Apartheid, authors Douglas Massey and Nancy Denton explore the correlation between racially segregated neighborhoods and poor communities. The authors argue that segregation, including segregation by choice, has major economic implications. As they outline this argument using data and research, a very interesting question emerges as the focal point of a survey. Subjects are asked to quantify a diverse neighborhood. Average answers? Black folks responded that a 50/50 split would qualify a neighborhood to be considered diverse. White folks responded that 96/4 (whites/blacks) would constitute a diverse neighborhood. While most respondents- black or white- declared they would like to live in a diverse neighborhood, there was a vast difference in how each defined diversity. This book was written in 1990, but I believe the difference in response has incredible implications for us today. 

Because of this discrepancy in defining what it means to be multiracial, sociologist have  determined that there can only be an 80% racial majority. At least 20% of the church must be a different race or ethnicity from the majority. The theory goes that 20% becomes a tipping point for the congregation. According to Michael Emerson (co-author of Divided By Faith and this recent article in the Annual Review of Sociology) at this point, the 20% are less likely to be perceived as token minorities. They also are more likely to begin exerting their collective influence on the church culture and policies. Additionally, when at least 20% of the congregants are racially diverse, the probability of random cross-racial contact is 99%.

Now, I cannot speak for all people of color everywhere. I can only speak for me and my experience at white churches/schools. Since this is my blog, I'm just going to say it. Having 20% people of color surrounded by 80% of white people doesn't feel very diverse. There are some additional criteria that I would have to add:

1. 20% of the influential leadership of the church is of color 

2. 20% of the teaching staff is of color

3. 20% of the worship elements represented the culture of another race or ethnicity 

4. 20% of the attendance at small groups, classes and events were people of color 

5. 20% of the study resources/materials being used in the church are authored by people of color

And this is how focusing on the numbers of your church rather than the culture of your church can become tricky.  While 20% may be the point at which you can declare your church is multiracial, the health of that multiracial balance could still be in question.  Is the minority group satisfied with being 20% are would they like to see that percentage grow? Is the majority group feeling invigorated or suspicious of the changing demographics? Are the donors and long-time members feeling the need to "take the church back"? As the minority members push for similar goals like the ones I have stated above, is the church feeling excited or burdened?

We call this 80/20 split the tipping point, and I think it really does become one for both the majority and minority groups involved. Are they tipping the same direction- hoping for more change and growth? Or has the tipping point become a source of tension?  Its vital that our churches give language to what's happening when our church demographics change and form a clear vision for the future of the congregation. 

The other interesting notation about the tipping point is this probability of random cross-cultural contact. 99% is incredibly high! I understand why that detail would be an important reason for understanding 20% as a tipping point. However, as a black woman I must ask, what is the quality of that cross-racial interaction? 

Am I being called "colored" in the hallway? 

Are multiracial families being stared at? 

Are latino families being called "illegals"? 

Are Koreans being asked if they speak English? 

It is not enough for churches to wear a multiracial ribbon if the 20% minority is not being cared for, valued, or loved. Otherwise, we may not be individual tokens within the congregation, but we remain your collective token, your badge of relevancy, your trophy of accomplishment. Depending on the size of your church or school, 20% can still feel like an awfully small number of people with whom you share a common background. And the possibility to experience micro aggressions is still pretty high when surrounded by an 80% majority. When your church reaches the 80/20 split please don't assume that the racial minority feels welcome, seen, or valued. Numbers don't offer those feelings. People do. 

One final thought. Just as important as the question regarding cross-racial contact, I would add one more: Is this a church where people of color can bring their racial wounds (whether those wounds occurred inside or outside the church)? 

I wish I could underscore how incredibly important this question is to people of color. There are all kinds of micro-aggressions being faced by people of color every day. Recently my husband was looking at magazines in our local Walgreens as he waited for Pizza Hut to complete our takeout order. As he flipped through a magazine of the natural wonders of the world, a white man walked up to him and started badgering him with questions. "Do you prefer to be called black or African American?" Followed by, "Do you like rap music? Why do all these thugs kill each other and why doesn't your leader, Jesse Jackson, have anything to say about that?" My husband never even acknowledged the man's presence, but his pestering continued, "I have a black friend. He's a lot like Carlton from the Fresh Prince, and he says…" Thoroughly embarrassed by this mans verbal vomit, my husband turned to leave, preferring to sit in the car than entertain the madness. Where does my husband go to be reminded that he is fully human? What church flings open its doors and says, 'We appreciate all that your culture means to you'? Where can he go to share this experience and have a church family bear the pain with him? Where does he find safety, healing, affirmation? This describes a great many homogenous churches where the micro aggressions we face are similar. Is there space in our multiracial churches for this level of love? 

As our churches move closer to (or even surpass) the 80/20 tipping point, I hope that our churches will keep in mind all the people represented by those numbers. May our churches become places where people of all races feel safe, loved and affirmed. That may be the true tipping point of welcoming diversity within our doors.  

The Good Samaritan

Sometimes when I write a blog post, I ask questions that I already (think) I know the answers to. This is not one of those posts. This is me processing "out loud" with no definitive conclusions other than those I might stumble upon in the process of writing. 

I have been thinking a lot lately about the story of the Good Samaritan. I love this story. I am one of those kids who grew up in Christian schools my whole life, so this is a story that has been with me since childhood. It is so easy to fall in love with the idea that the outsiders, the marginalized, the unclean can actually be "good". Can make a difference in the lives of others. Might have greater moral standing than ever expected. Can be capable of love. Compassion. Grace. As a black child in a mostly white school (where most of the other black children in my class were boys), this story spoke to me. Despite the things that made me different, I was still capable of goodness, and was always capable of that goodness whether others wanted to recognize it or not. Yes, I loved this story. And I also realized that I was not immune from creating boundaries around who was "in" and who was "out". So, challenging my relationships by asking the question, "who is my neighbor" was relevant in childhood and is relevant in my life today. 

But this story is evolving for me. 

Rather than looking at the Good Samaritan, I have been thinking a lot about this broken man who needed the compassion of the Samaritan. Am I crazy, or is that also pretty revolutionary? 

What does it mean for us that the beaten man needed the Samaritan? Needed him to walk by. Needed him to bend down. Needed him to offer shelter. Needed him to pay for healing care. 

Is a key moment in racial reconciliation, not when the broken man realizes the Samaritan is his neighbor, not when the broken man realizes the Samaritan is capable of goodness, not when the broken man realizes no one else has stopped, but instead is it when the broken man realizes he is broken and in need of the Samaritan for healing?  

I ask because when I lead classes and trainings, it is not uncommon to find white people practicing reconciliation from a place of anger over systemic injustice. Or from a place of guilt and shame derived from white privilege. Or from a place of pity for the poor and disenfranchised. So many emotions. And not necessarily bad places to begin. What I wonder though, is how much growth happens when white people realize they are broken? 

What happens when white people realize that injustice doesn't just weigh down poor people, or black people or immigrant people or trafficked people-- but that the injustice in the world creates brokenness in them?

I don't mean a deriding, sarcastic, making fun of whiteness. I don't mean a childish "what-you-say-bounces-off-of-me-and-sticks-to-you". I am trying to dig for a profound sense of brokenness in which there is a realization that white privilege is harmful to white people's identity. That it is living a lie, breaking the spirit, weighing on the soul. I mean a deep sense of sorrow from generations of systematically denying the humanity of others and thereby destroying ones own humanity. I mean a sense of losing lifeblood from being unable to fully experience the Trinitarian God who dwells in relationship with distinct others. 

Is it possible that the Good Samaritan isn't only about neighbors, but about recognition of brokenness so deep that there is a life-or-death sense of needing one another?

I wonder. 

Austin Brown Comments