Worried Mothers...

Yesterday my mom called several times throughout the day, until she reached me. Once she finally got me on the phone (I had a busy day yesterday) I could immediately hear a great sense of urgency in her voice. My first thought was to make sure everything was okay. She said, "yes," she was fine. The reason for her wanting so badly to reach her son was to simply tell him to be careful. "What do you mean, mom?" I asked. She proceeded, "Gary, I just want you to be very careful." She went on to encourage me not to do anything that would get me pulled over, questioned, or even looked at too long by a police officer, or any other person entrusted with the responsibility of enforcing the law. Apparently she had just heard about the young man who was shot by an officer in South Carolina, while complying with the officer in retrieving his id from his vehicle. If you know my mom, she can be a worrier sometimes. But then again, what mom isn't : ) I assured her, "Mom, I'm not doing anything wrong. But okay, I will be careful. I promise." This satisfied her in part. She proceeded to tell me to make sure I always dressed nice in public. "Don't wear any hoodies, pull your pants up..." she said. "Mom, I don't sag." And frankly, it's too damn hot in Texas to be wearing hoodies (I didn't say this to her, of course).

After our conversation, I reflected on my mom's call. While I laughed about it initially, I couldn't shake the sincere sense of urgency in her voice. She was truly scared... Not (necessarily) because she knew for sure that something was going to happen to me. That would be fatalistic. No, she was scared at the very real possibility of what could happen. Might, even. She was afraid of the probability of potential, in this case. I feel her. She was scared at the idea of being put in a situation similar to other black mothers who have had to bury their sons because of... "misunderstandings." I feel her. She was scared at the thought of having to cope with the loss of her only son. I feel her. I love my mom dearly, and while my optimism guards my mind from worrying about negative potentialities, my mother's optimism was shattered by such potentialities, because of their longstanding history of coming to fruition. I feel her.

My mother's concern for me is valid. She is truly worried, and she shouldn't have to be. She prays that I will not be profiled. She hopes I never lose my cool, even when injustice justifies the raising of my temperature. She shouldn't have to have such hope. She lives with the fear of losing her son, even and especially when her son is doing nothing wrong. She shouldn't have to live with such fear. She wakes up every morning and watches the news, just to make sure she doesn't hear the name "Gary Francis Green II" in a report other than an accolade or an honor. She should not have to! My mother sometimes worries more than she needs to. And for me, the incurable optimist that I am, I try really hard not to worry about things that are outside of my control. I don't worry, nor do I always understand why my mom worries so much. But in this situation, I understand completely why my mom is worried. I get it, but damn... She shouldn't have to be.

As much as it seemed to me at the time that this phone call came out of left field, it didn't. This phone call was to be expected. It didn't come out of left field at all. It came directly out of the history of unjust violence, calculated hatred, and persistent suspicion toward people of color in this country. It came directly from the ways in which this country's second set of settlers constructed negative images in their own minds of those they wished to dehumanize, and the fact that such images have persisted, even unconsciously, in many unsuspecting minds in 2014. This conversation was no surprise. It has its specific history, and a host of antecedents, all of which contribute to the fact that my mom is worried to death, about my death... And I can't say this enough... She shouldn't have to be.

My prayer is for all the worried mothers (and fathers) out there... You shouldn't have to be. And I intend on contributing in every way possible to creating a world where you don't have to.

Toward a Black Cosmopolitan Christianity

Preface: This is a weekly reflection that we have to do for a course I am taking this semester. I came into this class with hopeful expectations, and it has not disappointed. My perspective is beginning to be formed, and I am finding myself offering tentative answers to some of the questions I began this journey with. Today was another big step in a good direction. Enjoy...

This week’s reading is crucial for one of my central research inquiries, both for this class and most likely my eventual dissertation. I have been seeking a postmodern discourse that can allow the “Black Church” to maintain its sense of self in a racist country, while calling it beyond its self to a global vision. I have sensed that a version of Cosmopolitanism could possibly offer fruit for this discussion, and this week has given me a few seeds toward this end.

The concept of “solidarity-in-singularity” offers a way of uniting people in a way that does not subsume their particularity; a way of promoting solidarity without requiring alterity to get lost in the collective. My interest in this concept comes from my view of the Black Church as being a significant center that still speaks and acts on behalf of Black people in the U.S. The Black Church has occupied a unique position in the U.S., and has used that position to fight for racial justice on behalf of Black people. Yet, the Black Church as an institution is not without problems. It has often promoted Black essentialism, denying much of the Black experience within (LGBTQ, women, etc). It is my contention that the Black Church is stuck in the shadow of the Civil Rights movement, and is still defined by such activity. I also have understood Black Christian identity to be a unique phenomenon that is colored by faith, race, and has taken on a culturally defensive posture that often manifests itself in forms of religious conservatism.

One of the internal conversations that has been happening at least since the mid-90s is the debate between ontological Blackness (essential) and “postmodern blackness” (positional), in which there is an increasing awareness of the simultaneous expressions of gender, sexuality and class (this list could go on) within the racial category of Blackness. That is to say, there is not just one way of being Black, nor is there some defining attribute to one’s qualification as “Black.” Yet, “postmodern blackness” has come under scrutiny by some scholars because of its focus on individuality. This is particularly relevant to the scholarly critique because many have argued that thinking of Blackness this way threatens the ability for collective solidarity among Black people; a solidarity that is still necessary for the survival of a still oppressed people in the U.S. I have tried to understand the implications of this debate as it bears directly on Black Christian identity; on what it means to be a Black Christian in the U.S.

I have suspected that troubling the waters of Christian identity in the Black experience specifically, and religious identity in general, could provide a helpful broadening/particularizing scope for the Black Church for the sake of attending to pressing needs in a changing world. It is here that I find resonance with Namsoon Kang’s idea of what it means to be “religious,” and the very real “accident” that is many of our religious identities. Thus, I argue that problematizing religious identity, in the same way that Black identity has been complexified, can liberate the Black Church’s adherents – and the Church itself – to better attend to the particularities within and for Black communities, as well as expanding its scope to become a force for justice on a global scale.

Cosmopolitan Theology (a must read), by: Dr. Namsoon Kang