Does It Matter If I’m a Racist?

This is the LEAD POST in a series based on the workshop BECOMING THE BELOVED COMMUNITY: TALKING ABOUT RACE IN AMERICA.  It was developed by a committee of United Methodist lay and clergy persons from the Northern Illinois Conference.  See below for committee members and a list of articles in this series. 

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Does it matter if I’m a racist?  Not as much as you’d think.

 

The VIDEO below is one we use in the anti-racism workshop Becoming the Beloved Community, and it explains how focusing too much on individual cases of racism distorts the whole picture of what racism is and how it works.  It’s individual and personal—yes, and that’s important—but it’s perhaps more important to become “Systemically Aware.”  One racist doesn’t keep racism going, nor do a thousand individual racists, or 10,000, or even a million.  Just as one landlord—or 10,000—who is racist and discriminates against a person of color doesn’t keep housing discrimination going and going.  It’s systems that mold our personal perceptions and actions, and, behind housing discrimination, there’s the banking system, the real estate system, the appraisal system that matter more.  Yet our supposed “dialogue” on race looks much more like the cartoon above.  We’re obsessed with pointing fingers, finding individual villains, searching for persons rather than confronting systems.  It’s just easier to stay personal, so we take the easy way out, but eventually that won’t help us turn the corner on racism.

Not that the individual and personal isn’t important.  A person who’s racist, consciously or not, harms others tremendously.  More often than not, they cause pain, trauma, even tragedy.  And they hurt themselves, too.  And their children—to whom they pass along their racist beliefs and ways of acting, as if there weren’t already enough for children to overcome.  For a person, like a racist, who harms and hurts anyone else, who shuts anyone out and sees them as less than human, is also hindering their own ability to become fully human themselves.  It’s that old adage of reaping what you sow.  This situation is further complicated because persons who cause such harm—in order to protect themselves against the deep-down knowledge that their actions are wrong—must also lie to themselves, must develop rationalizations so evasive and bizarre that they often approach the pathological, or actually become so.  Still, these personal lies may, finally, not be as important as the systems behind these lies, systems that not only falsely divide people, but also rob those already discriminated against from their fair shot in our society.

So the Becoming the Beloved Community workshop stresses balancing the personal and the systemic, and because the balance is so skewed towards the personal it spends more time hammering home the importance of becoming systemically aware.  The workshop title doesn’t mention race at all, and perhaps that’s bending too far.  We just don’t want people taking the easy way out—which, again, is simply calling each other racist.  Of course, calling out a racist is sometimes necessary, but at the workshop that’s out.  This attitude, we hope, opens the door to real dialogue where everyone can not take it so personally but instead take a deep dive into systems.  We’re shaped by them, but we can gain some freedom from them, too, and in the process become more free from racism and other -isms and phobias that keep us apart.

ARTICLES IN THIS SERIES: 
Note: Several of these articles were written long before the Becoming the Beloved Community workshop was created. They are among the things I myself brought to the table and are ideas I have worked on for many years. The committee I led consisted of Tom Butler, Amania Drane, Rev. Matthew Krings, Lennox Iton, Donna Sagami, and Buzz Wheeler. Rev. Krings was subsequently asked to take leadership of another committee and was replaced by Rev. Tennille Power. A better group of people I could not have imagined.

  Go to the Diversity Training and Teaching main page for more on race and diversity, and to “Unpacking Racism: Noble Sentiments…,” the Lead Post in another series on race based on a 2020 UMC Lay Convocation I spoke at.  Go HERE  for workshops, trainings, and projects—including ones on race—I’ve led for churches, corporations, and other organizations.

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The Neighbor Project’s 2021 Gala Fundraiser

OCTOBER 8th is just a few days away.  Click the banner at the end of this post to buy your tickets.

IT’S THE NEIGHBOR PROJECT’s 2021 FUNDRAISING GALA!

2020’s gala was a great success, but it was totally virtual (see highlights Here).  This year, as we hope we’re beginning to return to normal, TNP holds a hybrid gala: mostly outdoor, some indoor, some virtual—and all of it as safe as possible.  It will be a casual night full of food, fun, inspiration & motivation, and live music, just across the street from the TNP offices in The Venue’s building and  lovely outdoor plaza.

I’ve written a lot on this site about this nation’s incredible (and growing) wealth gap, and of its racial wealth gap—which is even worse.  Most of that gap has to do with who’s gotten to own homes over generations and in areas where they’ll appreciate in value fairly.  Two-thirds of the average family’s wealth comes from their homes, and while the median wealth of white families is over $170,000, the median wealth of black households is only around $17,000: ten TIMES less.  As The Neighbor Project works to stabilize families financially, hopefully putting most of them on the path to home ownership, it’s working to shrink that wealth gap, which means more than just money.  As executive director Rick Guzman said in a speech at last year’s gala—which is the best place to catch a sense of TNP’s growth and vision for the future—if we empower otherwise financially vulnerable people, they can become leaders for our communities.  The whole community stabilizes, debts turn into investments, and their children’s educational achievements sky rocket.  They graduate from high school at rates 25% higher than non-homeowning families.  They’re more than 115% more likely to graduate from college!

You’ll get food, have fun, bid on auction items if you wish, be entertained.  But behind it all there’s the fight against inequity, and all that growth, stability, community investment, investment in people and families that your attendance will help bring.  We hope to see you there.

  Visit The Neighbor Project’s website to find out more, donate, volunteer, read inspiriting stories, and watch an introductory video I was privileged to narrate.  The Neighbor Project helps people get out of debt, save, and get on a path to home ownership.  It’s taking back a city’s greatest asset: the people who already live there.  Click the banner below to purchase your tickets for this year’s fundraiser.

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Chet Baker: When Not Caring Becomes Caring

The Video below plays about 1:24 of Chet Baker’s “Moon and Sand.”  Most people consider “My Funny Valentine” his essential classic—and it is—but I return to “Moon and Sand” more than anything he ever recorded.  For one thing—though I know this is strange and probably silly, too—it helped me understand something spiritual, which I’ll return to briefly later.

There’s sometimes a great gulf between an artist’s work and life, the work being beautiful, the life being reprobate.  Phil Johnson’s review of James Gavin’s biography of Chet Baker begins: “Rock’n’roll reprobates from Keef to Kurt and beyond pale into pasty-faced insignificance when compared with the James Dean of jazz, the trumpeter Chet Baker.”  It’s clear, says Johnson, that Gavin disliked Baker, who died at 58 when he fell from an Amsterdam window.  Or, as many believe, was pushed through it over a drug deal gone bad.  In Gavin’s book, Deep in a Dream: The Long Night of Chet Baker, we learn (as Johnson summarizes it) that “…the trumpeter was on 6g of heroin a day by the time he died. And that’s not counting the cocaine, codeine, barbiturates, alcohol and hash Baker used as a regular top-up; he injected the former every five minutes or so if he was taking it on its own, less often if mixed with heroin in his favourite cocktail, the speedball.”  This, among many other things, caused Baker’s infamous unreliability.  He shows up right on time for a recording session with the great Herbie Hancock, but he’s right on time four days late.  He goes to the bathroom during a session with Van Morrison…and never comes back. Etc.

He started with James Dean good looks, becoming perhaps the most legendary white trumpeter since Bix Beiderbecke, but ends up an ultra-wrinkled mess.  And, really, as a trumpeter won’t ever be ranked with the greatest, or even close to it.  Ethan Hawke, who plays Baker in the bio-pic Born to Be Blue, relishes the story of Baker’s response to Wynton Marsalis dissing his musicianship.  “If I could play like Wynton…I wouldn’t,” he replied.

As a person, then, and perhaps as a musician, too, he was pretty iffy, though his last wife, Carol, says: “Chet was a very shy, very generous person.  And very honest, though there are people who would dispute that, but that depends on who they are and what their story is. But to me, painfully honest, sometimes too honest because that made him vulnerable too.”

“Vulnerable,” I suppose, though that may be because his music is so laid back it barely seems to have any spine at all. He out-cooled the coolest of West Coast cool jazz, at least in seeming so lackadaisical. He started with what some have described as an “emotionally deadened, high tenor voice,” which others have read as a foreshadowing of the pain that would follow, even if most of it was self-inflicted and felt by others.  “Chet Baker may have been abject,” writes Johnson, “but he liked it that way.”

The emotionally deadened high tenor gave way to a raspy mid-tenor, sometimes seeming so tired that I’ve often thought he’s barely got the energy to care at all.  It’s more haunting, though, and beauty breaks through the deadened emotions enough to transform the not-caring surface of the sound into its opposite: a strange kind of caring, still detached but strong, even committed.  “Teach us to care and not to care / Teach us to sit still,” writes T.S. Eliot in his poem “Ash Wednesday.”  And in Buddhism there’s a strong current of thought about how being detached from caring leads to a caring more true than when you’re attached to what you care about.  It’s strange, I know—and perhaps silly, as I said—to think about Chet Baker’s music this way, though it has often embodied for me how not caring can transform into a strange strength of real care…whatever that means.

You’ll catch a glimpse of all this in the excerpt below.  Though the lively piano and great sliding bass line might fool you for a second into thinking that Baker himself is more lively, that non- or barely-caring voice floats above it, detached, and around the one-minute mark his trumpet takes a slow dive so lazy it’s like he’s just giving up.  That’s when it becomes beautiful, though, and a strange caring shows up.

Go to more Reviews on this site.

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