Penance – A Beginning

I am trying to do the “homework on white privilege” that so many African-American leaders, writers, clergy, activists, citizens are advocating. I had done some of the work before as part of our parish’s racial healing initiative which had us reading the literature, meeting weekly in small racial healing groups, and trying to learn, grow, and sort through what we should continue to do, not only to heal personally and communally, but globally.

I had thought I was fairly enlightened until the latest crisis took me to a place of – re-education, yes – but more importantly to penance and atonement. I needed to do far deeper work to become not only non-racist but anti-racist.

I have to thank Fr. Bryan N. Massingale, theology professor at Fordham University, and his article “The Assumptions of White Privilege and What We Can Do About It” in the June 2 National Catholic Reporter for the awakening – and re-awakening – I needed.

I hope you have read the article. I will quote here what I find most meaningful and challenging for me, but please realize, the whole article is profoundly enlightening.

“Amy Cooper holds the key,” he contends shortly after his reminders of the latest crimes against Black people that began the article. Analyzing why she could do what she did, Massingale insists, points the way to understanding – and a way forward.

To refresh your memory, a Black man in Central Park had asked Cooper, a white woman, to leash her dog as per posted signs everywhere so that he could continue bird watching. She not only refused but threatened – and followed through on the threat – to call the police: “There’s a man, an African American, he has a bicycle helmet. He is recording me and threatening me and my dog. I’m being threatened by a man in the Ramble. Please send the cops immediately!” Significantly, the recording she mentioned his doing of her shows how he never moved toward her nor threatened her but always spoke calmly and from a distance.

In a powerful litany of white privilege, Fr. Massingale then hits us with the import of why she could do what she did:

She assumed that her lies would be more credible than his truth.

She assumed that she would have the presumption of innocence.

She assumed that he, the black man, would have a presumption of guilt.

She assumed that the police would back her up.

She assumed that her race would be an advantage, that she would be believed because she is white. (By the way, this is what we mean by white privilege).

She assumed that his race would be a burden, even an insurmountable one.

She assumed that the world should work for her and against him.

She assumed that she had the upper hand in this situation.

She assumed that she could exploit deeply ingrained white fears of black men.

She assumed that she could use these deeply ingrained white fears to keep a black man in his place.

She assumed that if he protested his innocence against her, he would be seen as “playing the race card.”

She assumed that no one would accuse her of “playing the race card,” because no one accuses white people of playing the race card when using race to their advantage.

She assumed that he knew that any confrontation with the police would not go well for him.

She assumed that the frame of “black rapist” versus “white damsel in distress” would be clearly understood by everyone: the police, the press and the public.

She assumed that the racial formation of white people would work in her favor.

She assumed that her knowledge of how white people view the world, and especially black men, would help her.

She assumed that a black man had no right to tell her what to do.

She assumed that the police officers would agree.

She assumed that even if the police made no arrest, that a lot of white people would take her side and believe her anyway.

She assumed that Christian Cooper could and would understand all of the above.

(And she was right. He clearly knew what was at stake, which is why he had the presence of mind to record what happened).

Fr. Massingale goes on piercing us with the truth:

Amy Cooper knew that. We all know that. So who taught her? Who taught us?

The ways of whiteness. This is where things may get uncomfortable for most of you, who I assume (and hope) will be white. Because just as no one gave her an explicit class on the ways of whiteness and how it works in society — and for her — most likely you never received a formal class or explanation either. It’s just something that you know, or better, that you realize on some distant yet real part of your brain. At some early age, you realized that no matter how bad things got for you, at least you would never be black. And it dawned on you, though you rarely consciously say it, that you would never want to be black. Because you realized, even without being explicitly told, that being white makes life easier. Even if you have to do some hard work along the way, at least you don’t have to carry the burden of blackness as a hindrance.

And if you’re really honest, something else dawned somewhere in your mind. You realized that, if you wanted, by being white you could make things hard – much harder- for others. Especially black folks.

Then he asks the question on all of our minds: Where do we even start to redress this? Of all his excellent suggestions, this first point and the last touched me most deeply:

The only reason for racism’s persistence is that white people continue to benefit from it. Repeat that last sentence. Make it your mantra. Because until the country accepts that truth, we will never move beyond superficial words and ineffective half-measures.

What to do next? Nothing. Sit in the discomfort this hard truth brings. Let it become agonizing. Let it move you to tears, to anger, to guilt, to shame, to embarrassment. Over what? Over your ignorance. Over the times you went along with something you knew was wrong… Stay in the discomfort, the anxiety, the guilt, the shame, the anger. Because only when a critical mass of white folks are outraged, grieved and pained over the status quo — only when white people become upset enough to declare, “This cannot and will not be!” — only then will real change begin to become a possibility.”

Finally, pray. Yes, racism is a political issue and a social divide. But at its deepest level, racism is a soul sickness. It is a profound warping of the human spirit that enables human beings to create communities of callous indifference toward their darker sisters and brothers. Stripped to its core, white supremacy is a disturbing interior disease, a malformed consciousness that enables white people to not care for those who don’t look like them…This soul sickness can only be healed by deep prayer. Yes, we need social reforms. We need equal educational opportunities, changed police practices, equitable access to health care, an end to employment and housing discrimination. But only an invasion of divine love will shatter the small images of God that enable us to live undisturbed by the racism that benefits some and terrorizes so many.

And so we begin…again.