Faith, Hope & Love: The Great White Awakening, pt. 2
Hope is often fragile. In fact, fragility is perhaps hope’s chief characteristic. When we express the phrase, “I hope so,” we are acknowledging the uncertainty we feel for the future. The outcome is unsure, which is itself unsettling. Hope is the notion that the best of outcomes is not only possible, but also necessary. It requires tenacity and resolve to bring hope’s vision into being. If we left hope simply to be a fleeting concept—an abstract ideal—we would lack the energy and endurance required to make the possible become real.
There are times when hope wanes and times when it flourishes---and this can fluctuate moment to moment, somewhat frantically.
If fragility is a defining trait of hope, then the other side of the coin would be strength. It’s counterintuitive to think this way, but it’s true. Strength and fragility are simultaneously expressed in many actions we take. If quarterly earnings are down, we may speak with confidence in the boardroom, while internally questioning the efficacy or our own leadership. Even after years of enjoying a good marriage, we may still wonder whether the other person truly remains in love with us. There are times when hope wanes and times when it flourishes---and this can fluctuate moment to moment, somewhat frantically.
Inclusive rhetoric doesn’t suffice, and allyship—a well-intentioned pathos—doesn’t cover a multitude of past sins. But love does.
This is how hope feels at the moment for blacks in America. Indeed, we wish for change to be real, yet the uncertainty of it all looms over the horizon. The cloud of uncertainty casts shadows of fear, anxiety, and doubt. Fear turns to anger, and doubt to condemnation. It’s not that these feelings are unwarranted—they are in fact perfectly natural. Inclusive rhetoric doesn’t suffice, and allyship—a well-intentioned pathos—doesn’t cover a multitude of past sins. But love does.
...love takes the fragility of hope and girds it with truth. Without love, hope cannot survive.
When the apostle Paul writes his letter to a group of Christians in Corinth, he describes in eloquent detail the many traits of love. In summating his thoughts, he tells them that there are three elements of the human condition that will always remain: faith, hope, and love. Faith and hope are closely linked in that they both require trust, particularly in the midst of doubt. However, love is the greatest of the three. This is because love takes the fragility of hope and girds it with truth. Without love, hope cannot survive.
A simple acknowledgement of 'mattering' bears the unfortunate potency of inaction.
When blacks decry use of the phrase “Black Lives Matter” as merely performative, it is perhaps due to its foregone obviousness as a declaration. At least, it should have been obvious this whole time. And further, a thing that matters carries significance, but only in so far as a basic requirement of mattering. That something or someone matters does not mean that they are cherished. The people we love matter to us more than anything else. We do for those whom we love; a simple acknowledgement of mattering bears the unfortunate potency of inaction.
There is no way to erase the hurts of the past entirely, and like a lover’s betrayal, it takes time for wounds to heal, particularly if the betrayal has occurred time and time again.
Love—true love—goes beyond mere sentiment. Relationships rooted in genuine love are able to weather the storms of fear and uncertainty. The expressions of one’s heart are daily demonstrated through patience and sacrifice. In this way, love grows stronger, as does faith in one’s partner, along with dreams of hope for a prosperous future. In the same way, love toward people of color must carry continuous declarations and decisive actions. There is no way to erase the hurts of the past entirely, and like a lover’s betrayal, it takes time for wounds to heal, particularly if the betrayal has occurred time and time again.
"The inspection and sale of a slave" by paukrus is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0
Blacks feel continuously betrayed. We have been. When slavery finally ended, former slaves hoped for true freedom. The black codes ensured that it didn’t happen. When the government promised land and resources to help freed blacks gain property rights, the promise was quickly recanted. When blacks gained the right to vote, laws and policies were enacted to prevent blacks from casting their ballots. If a black man was accused of wrongdoing by a white man, the white man could gather others and perform a public lynching with virtual impunity. Lynching would continue for decades, at any time and for any given reason. When blacks in the south tried to gain access to public spaces, including restaurants, hotels, bathrooms, movie theaters and public transportation, Jim Crow segregation imposed strict limitations.
When King pushed the Johnson administration for stronger legislation to ensure enforcement of voting rights, his efforts faced continued resistance at state levels. When he marched with thousands of others through cities across America for basic civil rights, he was met with excessive use of force by police, sanctioned by racist mayors and endorsed by the general public. Many white citizens were party to the violence and abuse, blowing up churches, buses, and burning to ash the houses of black families. As King and other leaders spoke out against the violence, they became even greater targets themselves, many of their voices silenced through calculated assassination.
It was calculated scheming that led to the flooding of drugs into inner cities and the subsequent War on Drugs. It was racist policymaking that ushered in a New Jim Crow era of mass incarceration, as blacks were disproportionately targeted and locked up through mandatory minimum sentencing. It was discriminatory housing practices and redlining that led to racially segregated neighborhoods—feeding a system of predatory lending and exploitive contract selling—resulting in deeply entrenched poverty. It’s lack of access to equal education and healthcare that immobilizes black families and deprives young blacks of opportunity.
After 150 years of longing for signs of love and honor from society, settling for “mattering” falls utterly short.
The list of betrayals is nearly too long to name; the hurt so deep that hope feels, as Langston Hughes writes, like a broken-wing bird that cannot fly. Hatred of black people has fueled perpetual injustices, and public indifference has thwarted faith in one’s fellow white citizen. After 150 years of longing for signs of love and honor from society, settling for “mattering” falls utterly short. We want to know that we not only matter, but that we are honored and cared for as citizens of these United States.
Multiple transgressions over 150 years should not lead to rushed platitudes and grand, empty gestures. The words of contrition lack meaning without the acts of sacrificial love.
Love feels shame. When a loved one wrongs the other person, the betrayer—if he or she truly feels remorse—carries shame over their actions. Shame is humbling. Humility admits wrongdoing and seeks repentance. Multiple transgressions over 150 years should not lead to rushed platitudes and grand, empty gestures. The words of contrition lack meaning without the acts of sacrificial love. And the actions being called for now may seem extreme but can be understood in the context of American history. Seeking to defund the police is perhaps a radical notion; it may also be the salve that helps ameliorate the present wounds. Having the rule of law is imperative for society to function, so the need for law enforcement will not go away. But if efforts for reform have not worked in the past, asking for a complete system overhaul, though radical, is not without just cause.
It’s not that the position of police officer is inherently cruel. It’s that the system of law enforcement has been repeatedly, intentionally used to enact cruelty.
It’s not that the position of police officer is inherently cruel. It’s that the system of law enforcement has been repeatedly, intentionally used to enact cruelty. The motivations behind the actions of Derek Chauvin and others were predicated upon a total devaluing of black lives as a whole. When life is not upheld as precious, then life is consequently expendable. The system of American law enforcement, in many ways, has been built upon this notion. Non-lethal force and restorative justice counteract the idea of black dehumanization. Moreover, a care for black men—the many hundreds within the criminal justice system—has been altogether absent.
White fragility is a by-product of indifference, not love.
It is difficult to maintain hope under such unrelenting circumstances. White fragility is a by-product of indifference, not love. And the fragility of hope needs love in order to bind it steadfastly to faith. Genuine shame moves past guilt and heads toward repentance. Repentance of the heart leads to lasting change. Love believes all good things, it endures hardships, it meets shame with longsuffering. Love doesn’t delight in, play party to, or tacitly endorse evil. Love doesn’t stand on the sidelines. Love promotes and rejoices in justice and truth. Love upholds hope so it can take flight. Love never fails.