Another Thanksgiving has come and gone. This year was a bit different. Instead of gathering around the dinner table surrounded by family and friends my son and I spent it together on a cruise far from home. It was a bit odd spending this traditional fall holiday with sand between our toes and the deafening roar of waves crashing up on shore but it was nice, pleasant, relaxing.
Instead of spending our holiday with family we spent it with 3,598 strangers who came together from across the United States and around the globe. Some of those strangers became fast friends. Loreen from Syracuse, Kaitlyn from New York, Ethan from Texas, those two funny ladies from Queens who I spent an hour talking and laughing with but failed to get their names. There were people from Great Britain, Australia, China, Japan, India and a whole host of other countries onboard. We were an eclectic bunch representing different ethnicities, social statuses, religions and political loyalties but somehow we managed to overcome our differences. We looked past the color of each others’ skin and listened beyond the language barriers to see and hear what matters most – the human heart. There were moms and dads, grandmas and grandpas, infants and teenagers; we covered the spectrum of the human condition and yet, there we were, nestled together on one big ship, cruising the ocean, getting along.
While we were at sea the Ferguson grand jury decision was handed down. During intermittent wifi connections I watched in distress the online news reports of the riots and protests that followed. My heart was heavy as I saw the anger unleashed and the violence unfold. What surprised me the most – beyond the fact there were only three black grand jurors and the District Attorney chose to make the announcement at night (duh?) – was that I searched my heart and realized I didn’t know how to feel. I don’t have a ‘”side.” How can I?
Michael Brown wasn’t my son. I can only imagine the anguish his mother must feel.
I’m not black. I can only imagine the systemic prejudice and injustice I might feel if I were.
No one in my family is in law enforcement. I can only imagine how my view might be affected if they were.
No, I have no connection to those Ferguson riots other than I’m an American. A white American. A white American mom. On these three points I base my views.
As an American I am appalled by our nation’s track record on racism. We pride ourselves in being “the land of the free” yet throughout our nation’s history we have denied freedom to many. Being from the South makes it even worse. I am compelled to own up to the demons of our past. I never have understood, nor can I even imagine, the depths of human depravity required to convince one’s self that owning another human being was acceptable. I can’t fathom the notion that capturing, enslaving and abusing other human beings was a right bestowed upon a singular race and gender by a God who created us all equally. Oh, I get the textbook economics of slavery, I understand it was a different time, but I will never understand the lack of conscience, compassion, humanity. Beyond that, the residual effects of slavery and the years of segregation and civil rights abuses that followed are mind boggling. The Civil Rights Movement and legislation it prompted have improved the situation for black Americans but you can’t legislate people’s attitudes, you can’t evoke empathy through laws and you can’t adjust the moral compass of the masses by mandate. Yes, things are better but as long as hatred and distrust exist in our hearts we never will realize true freedom.
As a white American I am embarrassed by the continued lack of mutual respect among the races. I was raised in a Christian home where we were taught the Golden Rule. My parents showed us it isn’t enough to feel love…to speak love…you must live it. Where laws fail to reach into the human heart I was taught that the Bible can, or at least, that it should. If more of us applied the Golden Rule in our daily lives – ‘do unto others as you would have them do unto you’ – imagine the level of mutual respect it would engender.
As a white American mom I am frightened that my son will mature into a world that itself has failed to mature beyond unbridled violence. Someone cuts you off on the road, pull out your gun. Someone mistakenly drives into your driveway, pull out your gun. Someone speaks a cross word at you in public, pull out your gun. Fighting words and fighting actions seem to be the norm. Americans are angry. We speak ill of each other’s politics and religions. We disparage those who are different and we eye the world through a lens of perpetual conflict. This is not the world I once knew; it is not the world I want my son to know. As a society we must stop telling our children that violence is the answer. I understand his words were spoken in anger but when Michael Brown’s stepdad yelled, “Burn this **** down” he perpetuated the cycle of violence that has claimed the lives of so many, too many, of our nation’s sons and daughters. What is the answer? I’m not sure but I do know violence is not the answer. With each child killed at the end of a barrel – whether by civilians or law enforcement – one more glimmer of hope for our future is snuffed out. None of us raise our children to die. We raise our children to live. They can not do that with hope and confidence if we do not commit ourselves today to ending the cycle of violence that has overtaken our lives and that adversely affects theirs.
I love America. I believe in her ideals. I don’t embrace her whole history but I do believe in the promise she offers my family and yours. I want that promise to continue for generations to come but it won’t unless we act now. This past Thanksgiving 3,598 strangers taught me it’s possible to peacefully co-exist in spite of our vast differences. Imagine what together we as a community can do.
As our ship passed by the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbor I found myself trying to imagine what it was like for those immigrants who traveled thousands of miles to reach America’s shores. Most came here on hope and a promise that their lives would be richer, fuller, free. Let’s not let racism, discrimination, anger and violence diminish that promise. Politicians can change our laws but only we can change our hearts.
