Sunday, September 20, 2009

I see it in the city when two worlds collide.

Perhaps its been the increased discussion of racism in recent weeks [see: this, or this, or that], or perhaps it's the fact that in any given 24 hour period I find myself in environments comparable to night and day, and I can't help but feel burdened by this collision as of late.

Let's take Friday for instance. After a day of work, surrounded by children of color, energy, struggle, hunger, curiosity and dreams of achieving the impossible, my co-worker Laura and I made the walk through downtown Minneapolis on our way to a Lucinda Williams concert. We squirmed, uncomfortable in the homogeneous atmosphere; here we were, surrounded by middle-aged, white, highly educated, affluent, men and women ready to live in our privilege "to rock!" Perhaps our discomfort was increased after happening upon a couple high anxiety moments before our arrival at First Avenue.

In the short walk from LaSalle and 15th to 1st Ave N and 7th we witnessed two separate incidents of human nature at its worst. The first, at the corner SuperAmerica, consisted of two men apparently arguing over one's ownership of a specific gas pump. Shouts of verbal insults in unrepeatable nature abounded, with "Racist!" being used at the beginning of each exchange. The streets filled with people, eyes glued and jaws dropped at this sad display. We quickly changed course as the argument became more severe when a passenger threw something at the window of the other's car.

Not two minutes later we happen upon a physical fight of kicks and punches between two grown men; one black, one white. Unable to know exactly what pushed the men to these extremes, we couldn't help but feel as though everyone on the crowded Nicollet Mall simply "knew" what this argument was about. It was almost as if the theoretical discomfort of race moved into a literal exchange, and we were equally as hesitant to do anything about it. We haven't reconciled these racial tensions within our own hearts and minds, so when it plays out with such intensity and physicality we are paralyzed within our deeply rooted racial complexes.

As an idealist I want to believe that the root of this issue is that we simply haven't learned to appropriately love one another. Racism is the Berlin Wall, still standing, in America. Instead of celebrating with one another the moments that a brick is shattered, we argue over who's responsible to clean it up. Just as we are to praise the successes of child, compliment their character and repeat to them that "it's possible", perhaps we need to do that for each citizen of our adolescent country. This is everyones responsibility.

I was reminded of the story of the blind man, Bartimaeus today in church. "What do you want me to do for you?" Where does it hurt? What pains you? Jesus asks. Bartimaeus says, "Rabbi, I want to see." God has granted us sight. We get to see the sunrise, the changing of the seasons, the faces of newborns, but we also must see the wages of war, the sadness of an orphaned child, the discomfort of oppression. Do we close our eyes? Do we turn our face?

I see it in the city when two worlds collide. I don't like it. It pains me. But I cannot turn my eyes because beyond this concrete and barbed wire there is the beauty of united spirits.....isn't there?

1 comment:

  1. I spent the weekend up in northeast Denver and more specifically Five Points learning about the racial barrier that still exists, sometimes intentionally, sometimes not. And you are right . . . if we close our eyes to it, we will never see the problem and thus, never be a part of the reconciliation. Some of the stories I heard just made me sick to my stomach thinking that stuff like this still exists in America today.

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