I fundraise as a foundational part of doing my work (campus ministry). Once, I reflected on some of the ministry partners that I have connected with over the years... and I realized that as young, white man I had an edge up on every other demographic of missionary. In social situations, in ministry situations, I can walk up to someone and immediately know that they will take me seriously, that they will trust me implicitly, and that, perhaps, I can get my foot in the door. I have cold-called people with little to no personal connection with them.
And I realized: if I were black...
I used to walk late at night when I was in school. I enjoyed those late-night walks, both on campus and then around Glen Carbon when I moved there. From time to time I would see a police officer making rounds. I would give him a nod, he'd nod back and smile, and I would continue my walk. Once, I reflected on those late-night walks and the peace and quiet I solaced in them...
And I realized: if I were black...
I live in Alton. On a clear day, I can drive down Henry Street and see the St. Louis Arch beyond the Clark Bridge. The first time I went into St. Louis from Alton, I drove through Riverview Gardens (which, for those of you who don't live in the St. Louis area, is near Ferguson, MO). When I had arrived, a relative of mine commented: "Why did you drive through there? It's dangerous."
I reflected on this the next time I drove through. "Dangerous" did not come to my mind. Old, run-down, beaten-up did. In need of some TLC and DIY came to mind. In need of economic development came to mind. Riverview Gardens didn't look implicitly dangerous to me. But it certainly looked very black.
I wondered if that's what my relative had meant. North County, I'm told, is a dangerous area. And I wonder if "a dangerous area" in white man's terms really just means "there's a lot of black folks there."
A quick history lesson: North County was designed as a glorious suburban area for the bustling and growing City of St. Louis. I went to the Chicago suburbs last week and spent some time in Libertyville, IL. It was very hipster, very modern, very energetic, very successful: that's what North County was originally designed to be.
During the time of Integration, African Americans started coming north from the city in search of better living options. They were doing the same thing that the white folks were doing -- and, to be historically accurate, there was general acceptance among the white folks in North County. And then real estate agents started coming to the white families and telling them that the black families would make their property values drop. That's what began North County's white flight: fear of losing money. After a few years of this type of unethical real estate operations, the white community had nearly completely left North County.
Racism is fundamentally a fear thing, we should remember. It didn't take too long for North County to begin being called "the rough part of town", simply because it had the highest percentage of African Americans. You don't need a background in sociology to understand what happens to neighborhoods and communities once they've received that type of appellation. When an area begins to be known as "the rough part of town", the rough people will move there.
I bring up this moment in History to say this: white people created the "dangerous" North County through their fears and distance.
Again: I live in Alton. In some sense, North County is geographically more real to me than the City of St. Louis is. All of this chaos going on is happening not too far from me: on the other side of the River. But I hear a lot of white voices in the Metro-East saying: "What does it matter to me?" I hear white voices in the Church (and this really riles me) saying that the riots are the black community's fault, that Michael Brown shouldn't have robbed a store, that the media should give the St. Louis County Police a break.
And you know what? As a white man, I really could ignore the whole thing. I could pretend that it will all go away. "Hear no evil, see no evil..." right? Like I already said: I have it good. People listen to me, police don't arrest me. I can keep living on without giving this whole mess in Ferguson a second look.
Compassion demands more. The Love of Christ demands more. White men who ignore the dire strait of our black brothers commit the same sin as the Pharisees. The Pharisees didn't like changing the way their lives were: they wanted a "pure, Gentile-less" Judaism. Christ challenged them to see their pride over and over again. Eventually, they kill Him. To ignore the plight of the young black man is to see your brother on the road, naked and robbed, and leave him there as you travel to Jerusalem to worship.
As a white man, I have absolutely no idea what it is like to be a black man. But I absolutely must stand up with my brothers. To do otherwise would be heinous and irresponsible and hateful. On August 9th, across the River, past West Alton, Michael Brown was shot and killed not because he had robbed a convenience store, not because he was walking down the street, but because, above all, his skin was several shades darker than mine.
The response? The community of Ferguson was outraged. A few irresponsible people used that outrage for their own purposes. Social media erupted. And the white Church deeply disappointed me.
As a Metro-East resident, I have absolutely no idea what it is like to be a North County resident. But this I'm convinced about: As long as the white church refuses to regard the social, cultural, economic, and emotional hurt of the black community, we will continue in the sins of the Pharisees. And as long as the Metro-East sees this incident as "something happening over there" we will fail to become the beautiful, integrated, diverse community that I believe God has called us to be.
As a white man, I have a very very simple response: to have Compassion for black men. The Gospel demands no less. And that Compassion implies that I recognize the structural, systemic racism that is perpetuated daily against men of color. That Compassion implies that I recognize my role in this systemic racism. That Compassion requires that I stand alongside the African American community in their hurt and their pain and say "THIS IS NOT RIGHT." That Compassion demands Justice.
And that Justice is not an easy "cover it over" or "forget about it." Remember the Trayvon Martin incident? We (white folks) have forgotten about it. In another year, white folks will have forgotten about Michael Brown. The African American community will not. They cannot. And as long as we (white folks) continue to forget and continue to cover things over and continue to not "cry aloud for Justice" as the Word of God demands, then situations like these will keep popping out of the woodwork, and cities will continue to burn, and there will be no Peace.
Compassion demands Justice. Justice requires Truth -- it requires the white community to view their own hearts in the light of God's Truth -- and to begin to fight against the cultural oppression that we (white folks) have created.
As a white man, this begins with accepting one statement: "This is not right."
As a white man, I have absolutely no idea what it is like to be a black man. But I can stand up with him, and I can fight for Justice for him, and I can have Compassion with him. I can pray. I can intercede. I can learn to seek Reconciliation. I can learn to pursue Truth. I can learn, and I can listen, and I can hurt alongside him.
And until young white men learn to do this, systemic racism will continue to destroy the lives of young black men.
My brothers, take up the banner. Stand for Justice.
