Color

choir practice at my church

I grew up in a city that, according to this Oregonian article, has officially become the "Whitest major city in the US". In spite of that dubious distinction (which doesn't surprise me) I still love Portland, and in my 20s I became a bit of a geek about Portland's history, and what I learned about how non-white ethnic groups were treated in the city's early days deeply saddened me, as did the realization that this precedence of racism still has an effect on the city today. Just Google "Portland racist history" and you'll encounter articles like this one that sum up the things I encountered when I was researching the city's past.

Throughout my years in Portland I knew it was a rather segregated city, but my parents always made sure we were exposed to other cultures and people who were different than us. They encouraged us to travel as teens, hosted lots of exchange students from Japan and Spain through one of the local colleges, and many Sunday dinners were spent with international students from our church's Bible college. I loved it, and I couldn't hear enough about Europe, Africa, Japan, Spain, Mexico, Argentina, Cuba, and a myriad of other nations and cultures I had the incredible privilege to encounter in those years.

In retrospect I see that my parents instilled in me the understanding that "different" does not mean "bad" or "weird". In fact, when we're talking about people it's our differences of perspective, color, personality and culture that make us unique, interesting and beautiful. Living just outside London (a city where the whole world seems to exist together) for over four years has been a joy and delight. Amusingly, I think I have my white, middle-class, Portlandian parents to thank for that. But living here has brought race to the forefront of my consciousness in a way that never happened before. Dating an African man for about a year only added to it, but as I write I suspect this post will be longer than I want it to be, so I'm not even going to touch on the subject of interracial relationships right now.

In some ways I'm in two different worlds here. During the week I work in Guildford, an affluent area of England, with white, middle-class Brits, and am really blessed to work with them and to call them my friends. Then here in Reading, the town where I live, most of my social circle is my church of several hundred, where I'm one of less than 20 white folks. More than half of the church is immigrants, mostly from African or Caribbean nations, and even of the British-born folks in my church, most seem to be first generation Brits, having parents from African or Caribbean nations. It's been a fascinating juxtaposition. With Brits I often feel that my American-ness is something I'm expected to apologize for, whereas with my church friends I feel embraced and enjoyed for it.

The more I am surrounded by such diversity of color and cultures the more convinced I am of the ridiculousness of the slogan "love sees no color". I completely, unashamedly see color, because God sees color. God chose that I am white, female and American because He decided that was the most beautiful version of me He could make. He made my amazing friend Jenny a black, Kenyan woman because that was the most beautiful way He could make her. Why would I erase those things that make her beautiful and uniquely her? And words like "tolerate" frustrate me. That implies I'm humoring someone for being different than me. I don't tolerate Jenny. I enjoy and embrace the beauty and diversity that I see in her. The differences I see in my friends - black, white, Asian, Hispanic - are about who they are, whatever beautiful color their skin happens to be and all the cultural and life experiences that shaped them. They are lovely because of these things, not in spite of them.

In the privilege of walking out life with so many unique people here in the UK, I've found myself reflecting on race issues in America, and specifically in relation to African-Americans. It seems a lot different there than here. Yes, there are still racial prejudices and injustices here (and a black man here is also much more likely to have his car searched when he's pulled over than anyone else would be, so unfortunately some things are universal!), but in some ways it seems as much about economics as it is about race. But in the US it seems to me there is a lot of race-rooted distrust and resentment in all directions. Much of it gets blamed on slavery, and I think there is something to identifying with your heritage, but actually it's not that long ago that it was the norm for people of color to be treated less than human in many parts of the US. Many people that are alive today had to grow up seeing their friends or family members bullied, mistreated, raped and even killed because of the color of their skin. I'm not talking about the Civil War, I mean when my parents were teens. And yes, great strides have been taken thanks to those incredible individuals who dared to speak and take action against such ingrained injustice, but I can't help but sympathize with those African-Americans who still hold resentments. I get it. And I get why so many people of both races dance around it. This is not just a scar on our history as Americans, it is still a wound that hasn't quite healed. I don't really know where my place is in helping to bind up this wound for good, but I'm praying that if God gives me moments and opportunities to do so.