(My friend Nathan McGuire asked me to write this for his blog. You can see the article there - https://www.nathanlmcguire.com/blog/white-consciousness-and-black-lives-matter)
It could have been expected that the worldwide Covid
pandemic would produce worldwide socio-political convulsions. The health crisis
has brought to the surface deep underlying inequalities and injustices. In particular,
of course, we see this in the unrest and uprisings sparked by the killing of a
black man in Minneapolis. In one sense, nothing unusual; we’ve seen many of
these. But coming during the tensions caused by inefficient and unjust
responses to Coronavirus, it exploded into a global reaction.
More than just the murder of a single black man, this event
sparked the tinder that has amassed from centuries of oppression and
exploitation. This is seen in the way in which people of colour have suffered
from the epidemic itself. This is not due to some essentialist biological
vulnerability, but to the manner of structural and historically embedded
exclusion and subjugation, which black people have experienced in practically
every culture: poverty, overcrowded housing, and employment in sectors where
social distancing is impossible. These demonstrations have therefore connected
with the lived experience people of African-descent have undergone globally. It
cannot be said that this is an over-reaction to something that occurred in a
foreign country. No, it resonates with the race-based killings in police
custody, and longterm marginalisation of black people, in Britain as well.
It seems, however, that this has become a moment, in which some
white people have started to take notice. Though I get somewhat angry at the
public pronouncements of white pastors, supporting Black Lives Matter, a kind
of johnny-come-lately virtue signalling, to get themselves off a moral hook,
when they have never commented on this before; making statements which they
frequently get wrong in tone and tenor - witness the excruciating comments of
mega-church pastor Louie Giglio, on “white blessing”, and his subsequent
embarrassing, cringe-worthy, so-called apology.
As white Christians, we have to reject the temptations of
the ‘white saviour complex’ (Mt. 4.1-11),
and accept that we cannot be leaders in this movement. Our role is to listen
and learn. My daughter, as in so many matters, is my political mentor, and has
recommended Layla Saad’s book, Me and
White Supremacy. Additionally, in an online forum discussing BLM, I think
my greatest contribution was attending to the articulate voices of justifiably
angry sisters and brothers. This posture will demand repeated confrontations,
as our inherited misconceptions and prejudices are painfully corrected and
deconstructed. Many times, I have forced myself to hear what is being said to
me, rather than defending myself, or ‘white-splaining’ why they’re ‘wrong’ –
what’s called ‘gaslighting’.
And yet, our voices do matter. During my MA, I studied Black
Theology in South Africa under Apartheid. Black consciousness leaders there
declared they were fed up with being asked to explain racism to white folks.
It’s a feeling repeated recently in Reni Eddo-Lodge’s book, Why I am no longer Talking to White People
about Race. Racism is a white problem; although its effects are felt by
black people, its source is white. And it needs white people to stand up,
speak, and act. It is not enough to be a white liberal. Non-confrontational,
passive, quietist, non-racism must be replaced with an activist and positive
anti-racism, which intervenes at individual and institutional levels – when we
hear racist remarks on the bus, and when we witness exclusivist practices in
the workplace.
Such humility requires more than an academic, theoretical,
understanding. For me, the biggest learning has come through participation in
life: anti-racist struggles, immigration support, and anti-deportation
campaigns. But also through lived relationships with those who have been my
mentors in inner-city London. Christianity is incarnational, and we learn
through living; bodies more than books. Here we discover that White Privilege
is real. We are listened to, given access to positions of power, when our
actual talents may not merit it. Not that all white people are ‘privileged’ as
such. Simply that, there is an overlay, on top of the various discriminations
and inadequacies, which they (or, we) feel, which compensates and renders us an
advantage. White consciousness means being conscious of whiteness, this
constructed, artificial lie of an identity. When we realise this, then it is
together that we enter in to the liberation which Christ proffers, as part of
the multi-coloured Body of Christ, according to the multi-coloured wisdom of
God (Eph. 3.10). Nevertheless, it is
not enough to mouth the platitude of ‘All Lives Matter’, as if we are stating a
profound truth. In reality, the universal arrives through the particular. That
is, at this point, it is precisely black lives which are being destroyed, and
therefore need to be defended. All lives, the universal, can only be protected,
if we protect the, particular, black lives in front of us.
This also involves more than an individualistic reaction,
but also a symbolic and structural response. The furore over statues of racist
and colonialist historical figures reveals the need to challenge the images
which reinforce the master-slave mindset, which is so often internalised by its
targets. But the issue also hits home with all the memorials and monuments to
colonialists that exist in Christian church buildings. Perhaps Lieutenant
so-and-so was really brave, but exactly what was he doing in Sudan in the
1880s, fighting people defending their homeland? And how about the presence of
so many regimental flags, that adorn our cathedrals, glorifying the invaders
who created the British Empire? As regards the power-structures in our
ecclesial bodies, why are they so ‘white’? It’s not just the traditional
churches. I know many white pastors of charismatic churches, who rejoice that
they are multi-racial; while the leadership is completely white and the
membership black, a racially stratified landscape, all the worse for being
unconscious and unware.
Faced with this legacy, historical redress demands that we
must decrease and they must increase (Jn.
3.30). The gospel is one, but it addresses us differentially, according to
our social location. For the powerful, it means a pulling down; for the
powerless, it means a raising up (Lk. 1.52-53). And this also involves them
raising themselves up with their own strength, a process in which we can ever
only be auxiliaries, not the prime movers, even while we take initiative to
challenge the racism of the white power structures from within. We are in the
position of those early believers who lived within Caesar’s household (Phil. 4.22). Similarly to those black people
who defend the status quo, and adopt the equivalent position of ‘house slaves’,
so we correspond to the white functionaries of the slave-system, who work
within and benefit from that apparatus, but who choose freely to betray it,
becoming class traitors, and join the rebellious movement to overthrow the
system. So the Romans who followed Christ, were allying themselves, not to a
new religion, but to a Jewish sect, part of a despised people, who nevertheless
carried within themselves the promise of the eschatological future, the new
heaven and new earth.
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