Natalie Burris

Churches and the history of white suburbia...

The always-challenging Efrem Smith recently pointed out the "missional" movement's whiteness:

[T]he missional church conversation is mainly a European-American conversation and to this degree is presented as if the European-American Church is the pioneer of missional ministry in the [U.S.]. I also have an issue with the lack of focus on issues of justice and racial righteousness that is avoided in much of the missional conversation. But, what is really troubling, is that the Black Church and the Urban Church in the [U.S.] is ignored as the true pioneering and Christ-centered forces behind a historic and present model of the Missional Church. Ignoring these church models makes it seem as if an emerging generation of European-American evangelicals discovered a missional approach to ministry through theologians such as Bishop Leslie Newbigin.

A main reason for ignoring black churches is white evangelicals' complicated, uncomfortable history with their black neighbors.  We don't come to a historically-neutral table, even if many white evangelicals claim "It's not my fault, I'm not a racist!  I wasn't alive in the 1950's and '60's!"  

The circumstances behind the creation of the white suburban middle class shouldn't be ignored if white suburban Christians want to be missional.  And, once white suburban Christian realize they should partner with Christians of color rather than exclusively with whites, the suburbs' history still can't remain unacknowledged.

The mass migration from urban areas between the mid-1950's and the 1970's was largely fueled by white privilege, economic injustices, and institutional racism.  As a white suburban Christian myself, I wish more of us acknowledged the ugly past that formed our residential and worship communities.

Anecdotally, I know many white families moved from "the city" to the mostly white town I grew up in when city schools were de-segregated.  White parents did not want their children attending schools with black children, so part of my town's growth was fueled by racist responses to integration. 

On a broader scale, only the economically privileged had the wherewithal to move to suburbs.  Initially, living in suburbia necessarily meant commuting back to the city for work, so an automobile was a must.  And newly-constructed highways cut into urban neighborhoods, whose residents lacked political connections to fight the construction.  Such an imposition "was a traumatic and oppressive event for the people uprooted by the highway's swath."¹  I've discussed the conspiracy behind the beginnings of our "car culture," which suburbia depends on. 

Suburbia wasn't only fueled by injustices, but it perpetuated racial and economic inequality.  Racially restrictive covenants in deeds prohibited white buyers from renting or selling to blacks, which made many suburban areas racially homogeneous and kept many blacks from pursuing the economic mobility that whites enjoyed.

What does the church have to do with the history of the suburbs?  Willow Creek, Saddleback, and countless less prominent churches saw corresponding growth by virtue of their suburban location.  This growth, and megachurches' later influence in evangelicaldom, is not neutral.  

When many well-meaning suburban churches approach the "inner-city" or their low-income suburban neighbors to minister to them, many use simplistic, individual-level solutions that ignore the very reasons behind poverty.  

There's nothing wrong with feeding the homeless, conducting toy drives, or renovating a blighted home, but I would love to see recognition of past harmful structural forces.  Maybe then the church can creatively come up with solutions beyond the individual level.  I like what Shane Claiborne describes here - while still an individual-level response, it allowed a suburban congregation to serve inner-city folks in a dignity-preserving way.  Smith himself provided suggestions yesterday for churches seeking to be missional. 

Also, it's disingenuous to benefit from suburban growth--growth fueled by institutional racism--to enjoy the benefits of participating in an economically-successful Christian movement, and then to turn around and expect our black fellow Christians to simply start over with a clean slate.  

It seems disingenuous to expect to effectively evangelize or serve low-income populations and/or people of color while ignoring the privilege from which white suburbanites benefit.

It seems odd, too, that it rarely occurs to white suburban churches, when they want to focus on the Gospel's economic-justice facets, to partner with black churches, even though black churches have been articulating these facets for years.  (I recognize white suburbanites and black Christians are not monolithic, but use these designations for the sake of critiquing evangelicalism's general historical naivete and homogeneity).

Listening to and joining with a marginalized group, which has often articulated the justice-seeking heart of the Gospel better than white evangelicalism has done, is an important step in addressing historical and current injustices.  It will be more crucial as suburbs become less racially and economically homogeneous.  The poverty rate in the suburbs is on the rise, so the traditional urban-suburban divide is fading.  

Rather than moving even further out to the exurbs or simply shuttering their doors, it would be exciting if white suburban churches acknowledged they benefited from a history of racial and economic injustice.  It would also be exciting if these churches determined not to repeat past mistakes, and resolved to face present-day changes in the suburbs head on.  

___________________

¹ Kevin Douglas Kuswa, Suburbifcation, Segregation, and the Consolidation of the Highway Machine, 3 J. L. Society 31, 45 (2002).

Photo credit - 1st photo (Map of Chicago. Red dots = white population, blue dots = black population)

Photo credit - 2nd photo

Biblicism disguised as colonialism?

In Christian Smith's The Bible Made Impossible, Chapter 6 encourages us to accept complexity and ambiguity.  I have a slight issue with some points, but overall, Smith's critique of biblicism moves us away from marginalizing the other.

Smith wants us to "accept the real scriptures that God has provided us as they are," suspending preconceived notions as much as possible.  This is troubling because no one approaches the text in an unmediated way.  I do appreciate Smith's reminder to read the Bible with humility and to acknowledge its humanness, rather than as an error-free instruction manual.

But, even accepting ambiguity, the text is still shaped by the reader's gender, socioeconomic class, and race/ethnicity.  And even while acknowledging these factors, no one can completely shed preconceived notions.  I wish Smith would have been more careful in this regard, but he later articulates a helpful approach that de-centers those who traditionally control theological discourse.

Also, as I continued reading, Smith notes we can't force out the unambiguous parts of the Bible, quoting Gordon Fee:

God did not choose to give us a series of timeless, non-culture-bound theological propositions to be believed and imperatives to be obeyed. Rather, he chose to speak his eternal word this way, in historically particular circumstances and in every kind of literary genre. By the very way God gave us this Word, he locked in the ambiguity. One should not fight God and insist that he give us his Word in another way or, as we are more apt to do, rework his Word along theological or cultural prejudgments that turn it into a minefield of principles, propositions or imperatives but denude it of its ad hoc character as truly human. 

Despite the impossibility of eliminating "theological or cultural prejudgments," Fee's point is the heart of Chapter 6, and Smith comes close to acknowledging what I quibbled with:

All of scripture is not clear, nor does it need to be. But the real matter of scripture is clear, “the deepest secret of all,” that God in Christ has come to earth, lived, taught, healed, died, and risen to new life, so that we too can rise to life in him. On that, the Bible is clear. But to try to claim a plenary clarity, consistency, and completeness of information for all passages of all of scripture is futile. There are parts of scripture that we do not understand and probably never will understand. We might as well admit that fact.

Greater humility would help recognize ambiguity.  Many evangelicals elevate the importance of their group's doctrines into dogma.  And many elevate their opinions to doctrine level.  I find that lack of humility (and naivete about eliminating all preconceived notions) can be addressed more fruitfully when we de-colonize our theology and build a bonfire of that table where only certain North American and European men can sit.  Smith's sociology background becomes helpful here:

[P]eople predictably tend to inflate the goodness, importance, and credibility of anything associated with the social groups to which they belong (their “in-groups”) beyond what is objectively real and justified; and they predictably tend to depreciate the goodness, importance, and credibility of anything associated with groups that are socially different and to which they do not belong (“out-groups”). It is all unfortunately part of “normal” social-psychological personal and group identity construction and maintenance. But that does not make it right, good, or helpful when it comes to Christian theology and church unity.

Smith unequivocally states that Christians must "stop excluding, dismissing, discounting, and ignoring other Christians who do not deserve that kind of treatment."  To which I say, "Hurrah!"

Smith doesn't explicitly mention post-colonial theory or race and gender, but points out that biblicism's logic sets up the reader as truth-arbiter - "absolutely definite, divinely authorized, universally valid, indubitable truth," which I think results in marginalization of the other.  It's difficult to believe a "biblical" truth tentatively, to recognize one's interpretation might be incorrect, or to concede the plausibility of other interpretations.  

I would add that many biblicists are European/North American and have exported this logic, either through missions or by simply controlling the discourse within the West for so long.  Biblicists are traditionally those with the most power and money.  So, what's actually imposed is what European/North American biblicists deem biblical truth.  When many think they are exporting solid biblical truths, in reality, they're exporting (or imposing on minorities within U.S./Europe) a particular interpretation of Scripture that conveniently shuts out dissenters, even when the dissenter truly wants to follow Jesus.  

Biblicism becomes colonialism in disguise.  It doesn't matter whether the colonized have an alternative perspective, because truth is truth and the inerrant, universal Bible said so.  Thus, I appreciate Smith's suggestions that de-construct harmful ideas about biblical interpretation.

Don't put me on a pedestal, when you've really locked me in a cage

Southern Baptist Russell Moore posted an article last week that, on its face, sets forth an idea I would applaud.  In Women, Stop Submitting to Men, Moore argues the hierarchy many Christians pratice in the marriage context has been improperly applied to all relationships between women and men.

Initially, I was encouraged by Moore's clarification.  However, something problematic is going on in this article.  The overall tone and reasoning for women to stop submitting to men in general strikes me as paternalistic and condescending to women.

Pastor Todd, after reading my thoughts about news outlets' bias toward white women, sent me an op-ed by Leonard Pitts Jr.: America's obsession with missing white women.  Pitts writes that this bias reflects a paternalistic, property-like view, depicting white women as "damsels in perpetual distress, helpless little things under constant threat from the harsh vicissitudes of a big, mean world:"

To imply it is somehow more important, more heart-rending, when a young white woman is in danger is, at best, a backhanded compliment. The implication is laced with a certain condescending paternalism that finds echoes throughout history, from assurances that women ought not trouble their pretty little heads with voting to debates over whether they belong in the workplace.

When we recall how white men once routinely lynched black ones who were thought to have cast so much as a stray glance at white women, our attention rivets, rightly, on the victims of the violence. But no one ever notes the corollary injustice: the fact that those white men felt they had an absolute, unquestioned right to police the sexuality of “their” women.

This obsession portrays women as "communal property, hothouse flowers in need of constant, vigilant protection," which results in their "competence, independence and self-sufficiency [...] being tacitly demeaned."  Pitts ends his article with this:

Somebody should tell them: a backhanded compliment is just an insult by another name.

Moore's article struck me as a backhanded compliment.  Yes, it's encouraging to see a Southern Baptist leader point out we are all to submit.  It's promising when a conservative evangelical man acknowledges patriarchy's harmful effects.  But, as Dianna puts it, my feminist spidey-senses started tingling as I continued reading:

[T]oo many predatory men have crept in among us, all too willing to exploit young women by pretending to be “spiritual leaders” (2 Tim. 3:1-9; 2 Pet. 2). Do not be deceived: a man who will use spiritual categories for carnal purposes is a man who cannot be trusted with fidelity, with provision, with protection, with the fatherhood of children. The same is true for a man who will not guard the moral sanctity of a woman not, or not yet, his wife.

[...]

Women, sexual and emotional purity means a refusal to submit to “men,” in order to submit to your own husband, even one whose name and face you do not yet know. Your closeness with your husband, present or future, means a distance from every man who isn’t, or who possibly might not be, him.

A good (white) Christian woman must keep herself pure for her husband or future husband. Benevolent fathers, husbands, and husbands-to-be must protect women from predatory, exploitative men, and Moore is doing his part by reminding women they have no duty to submit to a man who is not her husband.  Not only does Moore render invisible women who do not have fathers in their lives or who are single, he also sets forth a troubling paternalism under the guise of honoring women.

This dependence on men is common in romantic paternalism, a concept in critical race feminism. Under romantic paternalism, white women need white men to survive educationally, politically, and economically.  Once white women obtained the right to vote in the 1920's, white men could say, at surface level, that women's rights had achieved a victory.  But, hidden paternalism still lurking under the surface keeps white women dependent on men, regardless of voting rights or other advances.  

In the church, when a woman's worth is tied solely to her role as a daughter and wife, she is still dependent on men.  My intent is not to demean stay-at-home mothers or women who have not pursued a career - the competency and complexity of all women are at stake here.  Paternalism, under the guise of keeping women pure and in-waiting, puts women on a pedestal while locking them in a cage. When viewed solely in relation to their submission to fathers and husbands, women are prevented from being the full persons God intended them to be. Women are restricted from full intellectual participation, whether we're wrestling with theological ideas or ministering to others.

Some Christian men might find it an honor to put women on a pedestal, protecting them from deceptive men.  Some men might find it an advancement to remind women we are only to submit to our husbands or to the men we'll marry someday, rather than all men.  But I find it a backhanded compliment and an insult.  

I am not a helpless little thing who needs my sexual and emotional purity policed and my sanctity guarded (Jamie the Very Worst Missionary recently pointed out that all this purity talk is usually aimed at women and girls only, not men and boys - why's that?).  I, and other women in the church, am a complex, multi-dimensional, capable human being, who also wants to wrestle with theological insights, to be a mom, a wife, and a full participant in the Body of Christ.  At the foot of the cross, there is neither male nor female, so please don't tell me you've put me on a pedestal, when you've really locked me in a cage.

The concept of pedestal and cage, as well as the definition of romantic paternalism, is drawn from critical race feminist and law professor Patricia J. Smith's article, PART I--ROMANTIC PATERNALISM--THE TIES THAT BIND ALSO FREE: REVEALING THE CONTOURS OF JUDICIAL AFFINITY FOR WHITE WOMEN, 3 J. Gender Race & Just. 107, Fall 1999.

The dilemma of evangelical feminists

"If you would just submit to your husband, God would take away your desire for a Ph.D."

"I don't see how any self-respecting woman could associate with such a repressive, patriarchal religious subculture."

Patricia Hill Collins, a sociologist whom I have mentioned before, translated her experience as a black woman into a helpful concept called "intersectionality:"

black women are uniquely situated in that they stand at the focal point where two exceptionally powerful and prevalent systems of oppression come together: race and gender. Being able to understand this position as something [Collins] calls “intersectionality” opens up the possibility of seeing and understanding many more spaces of cross-cutting interests. (Source)

Although I certainly don't think (mostly white) evangelical women experience the same level of oppression as black women, I find Collins' intersectionality useful in negotiating my identity as a feminist Christian who has remained within evangelicalism.  

Anna Blanch at Goannatree linked to a Christan Century article by Diana Butler Bass, from which I pulled the first two quotes above.  Although the article, Between two worlds: evangelical, female --and a scholar, is almost twenty years old, it still applies today to the intersection between evangelicalism and feminism. 

An evangelical woman with a Ph.D. in religion, Bass shares her struggle in navigating the academic world, which at times is not welcoming to evangelicals, and the evangelical world, which at times is not welcoming to women academics.  The intersection between the bias experienced by evangelical scholars and by women within evangelicalism results in a life on the boundary. 

Bass writes she is a committed feminist evangelical who desires to make "women's voices heard from the history of Christianity and in theology, speaking against the ways that the orthodox Christian tradition (which I deeply love) has oppressed my own gender," "despite the probability of being shot at from both sides" (232).

Bass' remark about being shot at from both sides applies to many evangelical women, not just those in academic theology.  Rachel Held Evans unintentionally demonstrated the difficulty in navigating between evangelicalism and feminism in a recent blog post, "13 Things that Make Me a Lousy Feminist."  Evans incisively critiques the notion of biblical womanhood, so as a result, some conservative evangelicals have dubbed her a “dangerous feminist.”  

Evans intended to point out she is not what many view as a traditional feminist: she honors homemaking as a profession and is pro-life.  However, feminists critiqued her post for furthering stereotypical ideas about feminism (feminists don't in fact hate men or disparage homemaking, etc.).  While Evans' post sparked an excellent, clarifying discussion of the nature of feminism today, her original post still stands as an illustration of the instant labelling that occurs when a woman points out evangelicalism's problematic beliefs about gender roles.

It seems many an evangelical woman has to trot out her evangelical credentials and assure others she isn't a radical godless liberal when she points out women's silencing in the church.  It's discouraging that women who would otherwise be evangelical theologically are marginalized by their faith tradition if they bring up women's issues.  The choices left for those who are evangelical theologically and also feminist are either to leave evangelicalism altogether or navigate the trickiness of a life on the boundary.

Bass' article and Evans' post reminded me of Nicola Hoggard Creegan and Christine D. Pohl's 2005 book, Living on the Boundaries: Evangelical Women, Feminism, and the Theological Academy.  In Chapter 1, Creegan and Pohl point out that 1 Peter 2:11 describes Christians as aliens and exiles in the world, and throughout the Bible, Christians are called to view themselves as strangers and sojourners.  

Our identity as Christians is wrapped up in being not quite sure where our "home" is.  For evangelical women specifically, "[l]ife on the boundary provides the kind of critical distance and alternative perspective that challenges assumptions and practices, institutional arrangements and authority structures." (13).

Already knowing what it's like to live on the boundary and not feel quite at home, evangelical women can bring a valuable critique to our faith tradition, just as Collins notes that black women are uniquely situated due to their intersectionality.  

Rather than dismissing evangelical women as radical feminists, perhaps our sisters and brothers could recognize these critiques not as an imposition of radical feminism, but as a prophetic word coming from aliens and sojourners, living between two worlds.  And my hope is that we evangelical feminists can turn our dilemma into a recognition of other groups who struggle along that boundary-line...

De-colonizing my faith

I'm still working out the implications of critical race theory, and will probably do so for quite some time, but I'm especially interested in how critical race theory and a related discipline, postcolonialism, would apply to North American evangelicalism.  

Despite struggles I've shared here, I still love the church and find the most compatibility with the evangelical version.  I've attempted to set aside my judgmentalism, because I find evangelicalism's core beliefs still valuable.  

Slacktivist points out that anti-abortion, anti-homosexual, anti-evolution, and anti-environmental views currently create the boundaries of North American evangelical identity, so for those reasons (plus evangelicals' pro-war attitude and acceptance of consumerism, sexism, and de facto racism), I tend to eschew the label "evangelical," or at least I attach many qualifiers to it.  

But I wholeheartedly embrace this very evangelical idea of a "good news," which should form a people who take this good news so seriously that it transforms their belief and practice into a political existence (a la David Fitch's The End of Evangelicalism).  I still believe that a man named Jesus literally existed, and that the Holy Spirit is here with us.  

So if I'm remaining in this tradition, I feel strongly about helping to de-colonize it.  "Colonization" is a reference to the way that European/White American thinkers have dominated theological discourse.  Post-colonial critics (similar to critical race theorists) examine how Western powers define and control discourse, while the global south is the object, the "other." 

All that is to say, I'm interested in viewpoints aside from those who have historically controlled evangelicalism (white, usually affluent males), as well as how we can move toward an expression of church and theology that is not exclusively dominated by white males.  

I've realized that one of the first steps in de-colonizing my faith is moving away from viewing people of color as "other."  Perhaps for white evangelical men, I could also add white women along with people of color.  This entails allowing the theological views of people of color to truly inform my very Western-focused beliefs.  I've tried to avoid viewing a belief or practice that is not traditionally white as "exotic" or something that I would simply add to my already-existing (white) faith tradition.  

Rather than making my distinctly Western faith the object and frame of reference for all other expressions of Christianity, I've made an effort to realize that I have blind spots, which could be exposed by my fellow Christians who are people of color.  I don't want my privilege to get in the way of following Jesus, who subverted the privileged political and religious groups of his day (not that I think a completely objective interpretation of Scripture is possible, either).

While looking around online for critical race discussions within the context of evangelicalism, I came across a 2009 essay by Steve Hu, The Task of the Postcolonial Theologian.  Hu's goal is to encourage his fellow evangelicals to stop viewing postcolonial theory as an "accessory of theology."  By "theology" I assume he means the version that is common among white North Americans.  Hu says:

When postcolonial theory is employed as a methodology in theological discourse, the resultant product is always categorized as “third-world” theology. Such categorization, Franz Wijsen notes, renders any theology that employs postcolonial theory as “exotic fruit” that merely supplements “traditional” European theology. This delineation only perpetuates colonialism in theological discourse and the dualistic categories of what’s normative and marginal. The theologian who employs Western categories is often blind to such colonialism, and the theologizing that he practices is all but irrelevant to the colonized.

He continues, "by delineating theological discourse, theologians are no longer theologians, but they become powerbrokers who mute the voice of those in the margins."  

To me, it seems like notions of "orthodoxy" and "heresy" are often used as powerful boundary markers that leave out what could otherwise be fruitful, constructively critical perspectives.  Other coded language, including the term "third world" itself, imposes a hierarchy and re-affirms the privilege of Western Europe and North America.

I'm not a part of the evangelical academy, so I don't know if the embedded Western-ness of North American evangelical theology has shown a genuinely welcoming attitude to "other" perspectives.  I can speak to my own personal observations and reactions though, and I often end up considering non-Western ideas as almost novelties that aren't truly allowed to inform my beliefs and practices.  Does anyone know of a good non-Western theologian to start with? 

Photo credit

Is a white girl worth more than a black girl? Chicago-area news outlets think so

In a very affluent Chicago suburb, a fourteen-year-old white girl was recently killed when she walked in on an intruder in her home.  The man who allegedly stabbed her is a black south-side Chicagoan.  I don't watch local TV news, but both the Tribune and the Sun-Times newspapers have reported extensively on this murder.  

My heart goes out to the young girl's family, as their grief must be gut-wrenching.  My critique of the news media's bias against people of color is not meant to minimize this family's pain.  However, I'm amazed at how much attention the murder of a suburban, affluent white girl has received, as compared to the murders of black young women that occur on Chicago's south side.

Although the suburban murder occurred on October 27, one angle of the incident is reported almost daily, and enjoys a front-page online link.  There were detailed reports about the funeral, the victim's tennis team rallying to honor their teammate, and the neighborhood's efforts to strengthen its watch program.  Weeks later, the Tribune has analyzed the suspect's mental health history.

I understand that a murder in a wealthy suburb is an unusual thing, and that the news outlets are reporting more prominently because they know these stories will garner more pageviews and TV viewers.  But I found several other equally-unusual and heartbreaking stories about young black women who have been killed, and aside from the initial news report, it seems there is no follow up on their murders.

In one instance, a pregnant teen begged for her life before being shot in the head.  In another, a six-year-old girl was shot while at a sleepover, even though the house was on a peacful block of its south-side neighborhood.  With yet another, we just get a cursory report of a seventeen-year-old girl being shot in the chest, with no other details.  If these victims would have been white residents of wealthier neighborhoods, I wonder how differently the media would have reported on these tragic events.

Rarely do we get follow-up reports on the memorial service, the community's grief, the victim's classmates, or the suspect's past when a person of color is murdered.  Simply looking at the news reports sends the message that an affluent white young woman's life is more valuable than a low-income, black young woman's.  The white girl's death is presented with many dimensions, as it affects her family and community, while the black girls' deaths are one-dimensional.  

The white young woman's death also appears to be more personalized.  In one report about the suburban girl's murder, a (presumably white?) policeman remarked he imagined he was searching for his own daughter's murderer.  There are no such sentiments expressed in articles about the young black women.  

Sadly, just as prosecutors are more likely to seek a death sentence when the victim is white, as opposed to a person of color, I suppose other parts of our society--both media outlets and their audience--find a white person's murder more noteworthy.  Any thoughts?

Are you an insider in the church? What's your responsibility?

Last week I mentioned I've been introduced to critical race theory, which I learned about through a seminar that fulfills my final legal writing requirement.  I've attempted to translate this critique to the evangelical church context because I think white evangelicals could benefit from taking a closer look at the church's structures and established behaviors.

Sociologist and African-American studies professor Patricia Hill Collins produces truly challenging work in this field.  While reading her analysis of black women sociologists' experiences in Learning from the Outsider Within: The Sociological Significance of Black Feminist Thought, I couldn't help but think of women (of all races) and people of color (of all genders) in the evangelical church.

(A quick clarification: when I mention that white male dominance in the church results in both racial and gender discrimination, I don't think a white woman experiences the same discrimination as a person of color, for example.  I don't want my references to both race and gender to come across as equalizing all groups' experiences.  Similarly, I don't want my references to "women and people of color" to render women of color invisible.  Language can be a minefield sometimes!)

Collins describes the field of sociology as a community of practitioners.  The "group insiders" have similar worldviews: they graduated from the same schools and have similar class, racial, and gender backgrounds (middle- to upper-class white males).  

These men end up defining the group's values, behaviors, and culture.  Their shared experience produces a "taken-for-granted knowledge," which becomes "thinking as usual" (27). 

Deciphering the "unwritten grammar of conduct and nuances of cultural idiom" requires an immersion similar to what's required in cross-cultural immersion (26).

To become insiders, then, black women sociologists must assimilate to foreign views.  White males are the dominant group, so of course the sociological worldview reflects white male concerns.  But most white males have not intentionally kept out non-whites and non-males.  Instead,  their dominance is tacit or de facto.  They simply follow natural patterns of behavior rather than engage in blatant racism or sexism.

As a result, outsiders are more likely to remain outsiders, because they don't want to simply assimilate to what the dominant insiders decide is most important.  Outsiders begin to question the taken-for-granted thinking as usual.  They point out what are labeled neutral observations or interpretations are actually influenced by white male subjectivity, and tend to place "the other" on the margins.

I appreciate Collins' emphasis on the de facto nature of dominance and that insiders are simply following natural patterns .  I hope I've never made anyone feel this way, but perhaps white males get defensive or feel attacked by the critique that women and people of color are marginalized in the church.  

My critique doesn't mean I think white Christian men are intentionally excluding non-whites and non-males (well, aside from complementarians who only allow male leadership, I suppose).  Rather, I critique those natural impulses to congregate with, converse with, and read only white middle-class men, which then results in believing white, middle-class, male-centric values and behavior are the norm in the church.  The challenge becomes unmasking this nuanced, unwritten grammar of conduct.

A common response, in the gender context, is that conference organizers and search committees can't find enough women to agree to speak, sit on a panel, or join their staff.  That's understandable.  However, the lack of qualified and willing women should sound the alarm that, institutionally and structurally, insiders have been tacitly unwelcoming to outsiders.  

It goes beyond ensuring more women and people of color are in seminary and are encouraged to lead.  Challenging "thinking as usual" requires us to carefully examine who we're reading, networking with, and allowing to shape our thinking.  For example, I did a quick google search the other day after I re-read the parable of the talents, looking for commentary or interpretations of this text.  All of the top search results produced commentaries exclusively by European or North American men, such as John Calvin and N.T. Wright. 

We're missing out by not pushing against the white evangelical church's natural patterns and homogeneity.  We have a wealth of resources in those we've relegated to the margins.  

Rather than get defensive if an outsider questions the dominant worldview, why not look around to see if we've surrounded ourselves with only those who belong to our class, race, and gender?  (Or, if we have welcomed outsiders, are we only "allowing them space" on our own terms?) 

And perhaps many ideas about Scripture and church we've taken for granted are actually more a result of our shared insider status than anything else.  Any thoughts?

The church's call to struggle against white privilege

They [African-Americans] don’t want to work. . . . You go downtown and you see some of these apartments, low-income housing. It’s trash. I mean, they don’t care and then they complain. Well, get off your duffer and do something. Make a better life for yourself. Clean up your house, pick up your trash, get some kind of job. (a white evangelical on p. 102, Divided by Faith).

This semester, I've been introduced to critical race theory ("CRT"), which proposes, as Jim-Crow-era racism is gone, that whites have replaced it with subtle justifications of our structural dominance.

Implicit in the definition of a good, civic-minded American is conforming to white culture (yet remember whiteness and all racial categories are social constructs).  

Whiteness is the norm - taken for granted, invisible, maintained through whites' economic dominance.  Success and the status quo are conflated with whiteness.  This is why some whites ask, "Where is white history month?" in response to black history month, unaware every month celebrates white history and culture.  Or, why only "non-accented" "standard" English is acceptable in politics or the workplace.

Hiddenness and dominance mean whites promote individual solutions.  Are you poor?  Work harder!  Don't have children you can't provide for!  These solutions are color-blind and seem obvious to whites, so whites perceive disadvantaged people as not conforming to "simple" solutions.  Whites assume everyone has equal opportunity to succeed.  This is just one aspect of CRT - it has been applied to law, education, and more.

Because I want racial reconciliation in the church, I was thrilled to discover a CRT analysis of Michael Emerson and Christian Smith's Divided by Faith: Critical Whiteness Theories and the Evangelical "Race Problem:" Extending Emerson and Smith's Divided by Faith.  Eric Tranby and Douglass Hartmann argue that understanding evangelicalism's race problem allows a better understanding of America's race problem. 

Divided by Faith proposed white evangelicals are not more racist; rather, they hold more tightly to individualism and anti-structuralism.  White evangelicals strictly apply meritocratic principles. Although evangelicals believe in equal opportunity for all, they can't see one's plight could be determined by anything other than merit and hard work.  Such merit-based, individualist views demonstrate white evangelicals and non-evangelical white Americans "ladle from the same kettle” (342).

With CRT, Tranby and Hartmann find white evangelicals' individualism more harmful, not only because it ignores structures, but also because it allows whites to justify the status quo (Id.).  Evangelical and non-evangelical whites make the very cultural practices that privilege whites over others seem natural (Id.).  

White evangelicals' beliefs make marginalization of people of color seem normal, and they become blind to the racism lurking underneath.  These invisible cultural norms impede meaningful change.  Whites have no idea white behavior marginalizes people of color.

CRT shows the U.S. church's failure to be a subversive, countercultural, privilege-destructing presence.  Rather than unmasking and repenting of it, the church often reinforces white privilege.  Because white evangelicals' attitudes are no different from white Americans', the church has not thoughtfully critiqued what politicians and other cultural forces tell us.

In applying CRT to Christians' racial attitudes, I wondered if I'm uncritically accepting CRT without using Scripture to develop a response to racial injustice.  However, I do think Scripture addresses the racism lurking under the surface, and commands a response to it.  Ephesians 6:12 calls Christians to struggle against authorities and spiritual evil forces.  And Colossians 1:16-20 says:

For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy. For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross.

We've relegated this struggle to nebulous demons or to what some feel is persecution of Christians.  However, what if the invisible privilege that white Christians unwittingly accept means we're called to struggle against far more complex and hidden powers? 

Brian J. Walsh and Syliva C. Keesmaat, in Colossians Remixed: Subverting the Empire, say Greek words like throne, dominion, and power signify not only spiritual things, but "what Walter Wink calls the 'legitimations, sanctions, and permissions that undergird the everday exercise of power'" (Id.).  Walsh and Keesmaat assert these verses refer to the "very shape of life in the empire" and "dynamics of daily life" (92).

White Christians take for granted our privilege and exert it as an "everday exercise of power,"  failing to recognize its effects on people of color.  Perhaps invisible white dominance, reinforced through the status quo, is a power that Scripture commands us to confront, which has also been reconciled through Christ.

The above Divided by Faith quote illustrates the church has done little to confront harmful beliefs that African-Americans "don't want to work."  Also, when common white evangelical solutions only entail "getting off your duffer and doing something," perhaps we've failed to struggle against hidden forces of white privilege.

Any thoughts?  What would confronting the power of white privilege look like in practice?

Photo Credit (Whose flesh color is the ad referring to...?)

Racism is not only a heart issue

Unless I have bad intentions today, I shouldn't have to pay for the church's racist past.

I wasn't even alive during the slavery and Jim Crow eras, so what do I personally have to do with racial reconciliation today?

If everyone would repent of their sins and stop acting racist, we would see racial reconciliation.

Racism is a heart issue - so why should the church force racial reconciliation?

I often hear these thoughts expressed about racism.  Many white U.S. Christians see racism only as an individual moral failure, but it's also a social failure, for which we all share responsibility.

A common definition of racism is limited to racial slurs or white supremecy.  This article illustrates many white people's definition of "racist."  A professor asks her white students to raise their hands if they're racists.  An awkward silence follows, and no one moves.  However, when she reframes the question as, "You've never had a negative thought based on racial bias?" hands slowly rise.

If we're all honest, no one would continue to insist she or he is free from negative racial thoughts.  But even if we all had perfect attitudes, racism persists in the church without purposefully racist individuals.  Though our intent is no longer racist, the effects still are.

You personally do not have to be racist.   Our system works so that, if you participate in the system, it will be racist on your behalf.  

Racism is not only a heart issue.  Individual repentance isn't the last and only step - it's the first step.  Using the Southern Baptist Convention as an example, publicly apologizing for racist acts and electing a person of color as vice president of your denomination are great first steps.  However, it doesn't mean racism is no longer an issue in your institution.  

Systemic racism, without intentional individual action, is highlighted in Efrem Smith's review of John Piper's book, Bloodlines: Race, Cross, and the Christian.  I'm not reviewing a book I haven't read, but wanted to share Smith's portrayal of Calvinism as Eurocentric.  Although Smith applauds this well-known evangelical for tackling racism, he takes issue with Piper's solutions:

Dr. Piper presents Calvinism as the theological framework for living into racial reconciliation biblically. I must respectfully disagree with him. He states in the book that Jesus deals with ethnocentrism, but then presents a theology rooted in Eurocentric ethnocentrism as the solution. In Dr. Piper’s commitment to racial reconciliation he can’t just have great love for theologies developed by European men. By presenting Calvinism this way, he actually goes against what he is writing about. Structural racism exists in the church in the United States because theology is dominated by White theology. 

[...]

Piper also only offers politically conservative and Republican solutions to dealing with structural racism.

Smith's critique teaches us that theology is not race-neutral.  Theology is rooted in a specific context, which includes race.  Whites may not think our views about church have a racial influence; rather, we consider them race-neutral.  Imposing what we consider harmless, raceless ideas on people of color at the foot of the cross, then, is problematic.

Reformed theology has not been race-neutral in the U.S.  Many Calvinist missionaries paved the way for white settlers and the U.S. government to take lands from its indigenous inhabitants.  (Here's an example out of Hawaii.)

Of course, most Calvinists today are not white supremacists and do not intentionally use their theology to oppress people of color.  Smith notes some people of color are Reformed.

The problem arises when Calvinism is viewed as race-neutral and the only proper form of Christianity.  Calvinism is inherently individualistic, so it's understandable that Piper and others omit structural reconciliation.  But, racism is too complex for solutions to come only from a homogeneous subculture like white Calvinists, who gravitate toward well-meaning but one-dimensional solutions.

Soong-Chan Rah has discussed white evangelicals' individualistic view of racism.  Again, no one considers themselves racist, so Rah frames racism as one ethnicity having hegemony over another.  Thus, in racial reconciliation contexts, elevating white theology is itself racist, albeit unintentional. 

Rah and Smith's critiques remind us we cannot frame racism solely as a heart issue.  It is not enough for individual Christians to repent of their sins and expect marginalization of people of color to stop.  Even after repentance, if white Christians go with the flow, sticking with what's natural and comfortable, racial reconciliation will not occur.

Networking is another example of structural racism.  In the gender context, I see prominent evangelical men conversing with, linking to, and promoting only other men, even if they self-identify as egalitarian. (Although Scot McKnight provides space on his widely-read blog to women, which is nice.)

Similarly, many white Christians promote and network exclusively with other whites.  It does not occur to them to reach outside their comfort zones to connect with people of color.  To extinguish systemic racism, it takes intentional, structural-level, often uncomfortable efforts. 

European theology has made incredible contributions to North American evangelicalism, but omitting non-white theology is a form of racism, even if unintentional.  Institutional apologies help reconciliation, but it takes continual efforts to fight racism.  And, while repenting of racism in your heart is humbling, it's only the first step.  If white Christians are not willing to recognize structural racism and to listen to people of color, we might as well display Jim Crow-era "whites only" signs over our churches.

Credit - Second Photo

People of color are not merely a backdrop...

A criticism of The Help is that it served mainly as a vehicle for a white woman's development as a writer, who also exposed racist acts.  The one who gets to take the most action is the white woman.  The focus is on Skeeter as the benevolent protagonist who helps tell the black housekeepers' stories.  The domestic workers end up as props for the white character's coming-of-age story.  (This film is also used, along with The Blind Side, as an example of the white-person-as-savior trope).  

I recently saw a preview for The Rum Diaries, which again featured white characters with people of color (Puerto Ricans) as the backdrop.  It's completely acceptable to write a novel or script about a character who grows as a person, but do any people of color get to star in these roles?

We see this in more than just the Bildungsroman genre.  Aydrea Walden, at the excellent blog Sociological Images, viewed several movie trailers to compare white and non-white roles.  Simply viewing a snapshot of a film shows that white characters get to do a range of things, like "be sweet, be naive, be oddly cool, progressive parents, live in a small town, live in a big city, parody Almost Famous, be hot, be regular looking," or "[e]xperience an existential crisis, wrestle, host and attend pool parties, have an iPad, discover their past, illegally adopt children."  You know, all kinds of normal or crazy behavior that a variety of films would exhibit.

However, people of color have very few options.  Walden observed that non-whites in the trailers participated in minor and passive roles, like "be threatening, drive a car."  "Play craps, provide and clarify exposition."  "Believe a stranger."  Or negative things, like being a felon, or as plot-movers, like setting up jokes for the main white characters.  

Of course, skeptics can think of films with nuanced characters of color, but the number of films with multi-dimensional, active stars of color (not just sidekicks to attractive white protagonists!) is disproportionate to the number of films as a whole.  The same goes for TV shows.  Consigning people of color to minor or negative roles is damaging.  This phenomenon also happens with women, of all colors.  Women are often portrayed as passive, naive, unintelligent, and one-dimensional characters who are only physically beautiful.  Walden remarks:

Whew! I was worried that I was going to see examples of myself in various and interesting situations. But luckily, I’ve been reminded that being of color is just not that interesting. Why else would of color folks be kept out of the canon of one of the most powerful industries going?

I’d say this was no big deal and that I and others might accept my blackness anyway. But the repetition of images (or the omission of images) is pretty much what the entire advertising industry is based on. So I guess a message is definitely getting across.

Unfortunately, the white North American church is not immune from this type of behavior, either intentionally or unintentionally.  Jamie Wright, who blogs at The Very Worst Missionary, recently explained how people living in poverty outside the U.S. (who also happen to be people of color...) end up as backdrops for the personal development of white Christians when said white Christians go on short-term missions trips.  

In response to criticism of short-term missions, many well-meaning North Americans are quick to point out that missions trips helped them realize they should be thankful for what they have, or that it was a watershed moment in their spiritual development.  Having gone on countless short-term missions trips as a teenager, I count myself as a changed brat person partly due to these experiences.  In the same way that telling a story to bring racism to light is a noble venture, I do not see missions trips as a necessarily bad thing.  But, as Wright so deftly points out:

As we send throngs of suburban teenagers on short-term missions every year to “learn a lesson”, we have a responsibility to ask ourselves; What are the poor kids learning from all of this?

We're teaching impoverished kids an important lesson, as well, when we wave our arm at a slum and say to our suburban brats, “Don't you see how blessed you are that you don't live here?!”

Poor people aren't stupid people. Poor people aren't less perceptive. Poor people aren't always pleased to be living what we deem “simple lives”. And don't you dare fool yourself into believing that poor people aren't making the exact same lifestyle comparisons you are.

[...]

When we descend upon the impoverished to improve our family's perspective, we may as well be saying to the mothers of these children, “Pardon me, I'm just gonna use your poor kid to teach my rich kid a lesson for a minute. I'll be out of the way in no time – Oh, and I'll leave you some shoes.... and a toothbrush.”

Walden and Wright's incisive, appropriately-sarcastic critiques should make us all think twice about images we see in advertising, Hollywood movies, and yes, even in church settings.  People who also happen to be low-income, or women, or of color, are people, not just backdrops to the development of the main, white character.  As a white woman, I've unwittingly engaged in this behavior, and have also taken the brunt of it.

Many white North American Christians enjoy railing against Hollywood for its liberal, sex-crazed, violent films, but wouldn't it be refreshing if the white Church took notice of another problem in the film industry and in life in general - relegating people of color to the margins?  I'm thrilled that Wright has been brave enough to speak out about this, so it's great to see some in the white Church take measures to stop such a damaging practice.  People of color are not merely props.  We all know this at some level - so how do our actions line up?