Defensive?

*The subject matter in this post may be touchy for some. And my handling of it is probably clunky, because I’m still sorting my thoughts and how best to articulate them, while attempting to preserve the dignity of the people discussed. Please note it was written in a spirit of self-reflection following a Facebook conversation with my friend Chad.  He graciously agreed to allow me to use his name and post our original exchange, which you will find in it’s entirety at the end of the post.

About a week ago, my friend Chad posted the following picture on Facebook:

I don’t typically get into it with people over politics or their stances on social issues, but I in this case, I felt I had something to contribute, so I commented on my friend’s post:

 

What followed was an exchange that left me a bit exasperated with my friend, and in looking at it with the distance of a week or so, it appears to me that Chad and I really, fundamentally believe many of the same things (in this case, that ALL lives do indeed matter.) Where our communication breaks down is that I feel the All Lives Matter slogan is a defensive and reactionary response to an actual and necessary social movement (#BlackLivesMatter) and is dismissive of the fact that many Black people feel their lives DON’T matter as much as others’.

When I first saw #BlackLivesMatter, I understood it was a response to the apparent uptick in wrongful deaths of Black people by White police and others, but because I live in a fairly white-bread, insular community, at first, it was barely on my radar.  However, it kept popping up in all my social media, so I started paying close attention to it and the concerns and fears and the stories of the people who were hashtagging it.  I started reading articles, reaching outside of my own social and media circle, following Black bloggers, and transracial and adoptive families with the intent to understand—to listen—to their experiences.

As I listen, I’m learning.  #BlackLivesMatter is not just a group of people “pulling the race card” as I’ve heard it called. They are people who are calling out actual problems and real injustices happening to people because of the color of their skin.

Throughout my discussion with Chad, I had been trying to point out that it is important to LISTEN to and try to understand WHY #BlackLivesMatter does not mean that other lives don’t—and I felt he was missing my point.  To me, he seemed defensive and shut down, not even open to listening to people’s experience with racism and the need for a social movement to change the systemic and structural racism in our society.  I asked him why he felt so defensive and if he had read the links to articles I had posted for his perusal. Rather than answer my questions, he returned it to me—“Why are you so defensive?”

At that point, frustration set in heavily for me. My goal in the discussion with Chad was to open him up to the idea to GIVE EAR AND THOUGHT TO OTHER PEOPLE WHO DON’T SHARE HIS EXPERIENCE so he could see why THEY feel a need for #BlackLivesMatter.  Unfortunately,I don’t think I succeeded, because Chad didn’t answer my questions. I have no idea if he read the links I included in our exchange, because he didn’t indicate he did, though he did tell me that he understands that minorities have struggles as well as strengths.

I feel it is crucial to LISTEN to people who feel dehumanized and devalued, whether or not I agree that they are such. My feelings are not theirs. My experiences are not theirs, so I don’t get to decide how THEY feel. And once I’ve listened, I must try to understand. And then I must work for change, so that they feel secure that their lives matter as much as anyone else’s. THEN will #AllLivesMatter. So, when Chad turned my question “Why are you so defensive?” back on me, I felt I should walk that talk, and honestly consider the question in the spirit of believing that Chad really wanted to know my thoughts and feelings, rather than using it as a volley to evade my questions and suggestions for reading.

So, was I defensive? Yes. I get defensive when I don’t feel heard, when my questions don’t get answered, when I have spent hours poring over an issue, approaching it from as many angles as I can possibly find in an effort to understand and find the Truth (with a capital T), and am dismissed when trying to share what I’ve learned.

It is not a bad thing to question a system, even if it appears to be working for you.  It is not a bad thing to take the time to listen to the experiences of others, and to conscientiously consider their beliefs, even if they are markedly different than your own

It frightens me when someone makes negative blanket statements about a group of people—any group of people—based on race, gender, politics, or religion.  Doing so diminishes the humanity of that group, and as Ann Voskamp puts it, “It’s when we dehumanize anyone, that we can legitimize anything.” That is a terrifying truth that history has played out time and time again. .

As for #BlackLivesMatter, I feel it is (unfortunately) a necessary social movement. If we truly believe that all lives matter, we will not blow off Black people as playing the race card when they call out injustices. We will listen and work until they feel heard, understood, and safe. If we truly believe that All Lives matter, we will do the work to ensure it, even if it is uncomfortable, messy, and awkward.

I came away from my discussion with Chad feeling that even though we were both talking English and both have a heart for making the world a better place, we were speaking different languages and I am still frustrated that I haven’t figured out how to bridge the gap. 

In the meantime, here’s our exchange, as food for thought—both on #BlackLivesMatter and an example of how (or how not?) to discuss tinderbox subjects with friends on social media:

When with a wounded heart…

I was scrolling through Facebook at a gas station, on the road coming home from vacation when I first learned about the gunman who forced his way into Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut, and killed 20 children and 6 women, and wounded several other people.  Like everyone who was posting about it on Facebook, I was horrified, shocked, and heartbroken.  I couldn’t stop thinking about it and tried to look up every online article I could find about it—but the events and aftermath were still unfolding—families were still searching and hoping to find their babies, and there weren’t many details.
I’ve been checking online news sources, blogs, and Facebook frequently, in an effort to learn more, to find something to DO to help, and it’s been interesting to see how the nation and people around the world have been reacting to this tragedy.
First, I noticed people posting things about how to talk with your children about tragedies and disasters.  Then things got political---posts and arguments about gun control. Then pleadings from people still shattered by the killings begging others NOT to get political, but to hug loved ones, pray, light a candle, and just put away political agendas.  I have to admit, after I felt shock and sadness, my first thought was—“now everything is going to come down to gun control---but why won’t people talk about mental health care?”  I was about to post something on Facebook about that, when I stumbled on a friend’s post asking people to NOT get political yet—it hadn’t even been 24 hours since the shootings, and really, shouldn’t we mourn with those who mourn?”  I didn’t publish my post about mental health care reform.  In fact, I deleted it. 
Then I noticed some people were posting light hearted things—pictures of kittens and puppies, or of tropical beaches, or they were telling jokes, commenting that they “need a distraction from all this bad news.”  This ticked me off.  How could anyone laugh or make merry NOW, of all times???
Then I noticed images---not the photographs and videos from the crime scenes, but photographs and paintings of angels drooping over headstones, or candles lit, with the names of the victims, banners, pictures of children with angels wings, children holding the hand of Jesus, doves, flags, of first responders huddled together.
Then came the articles and photographs of the gunman, followed by angry posts about the media allowing the gunman to gain notoriety by showing his photo and printing or speaking his name.
Then, as the identities of the victims were released, I saw photos of smiling children, laughing adult women, and messages with their names and the word “Hero” underneath or over their heads.
Today, one of my friends posted on Facebook that she wanted to DO something—she mentioned that she was already praying, had worn green and white (Sandy Hook’s school colors), and thought she’d do 26 good deeds—one in honor of each of the victims.
This made me think…when we are hit with a tragedy—how do we cope? I think most of us go into “action mode” wanting to DO something tangible to make things better, or at least alleviate some of the pain, something to move FORWARD—so we create prayer chains, or write poems, or light candles, or close our eyes and pretend it isn’t happening.  Or laugh so we don’t have to deal with the pain.  But we still feel terrible and helpless and angry.
As I was thinking of this, the story of Lazarus in the Book of John in the Bible came to mind.  Lazarus dies, and his sisters, Mary and Martha, are in the acute first stages of mourning. Mary runs to Jesus, falls at his feet and cries to him that if Jesus had been with them, Lazarus wouldn’t have died. Mary knows that Jesus had the power to prevent Lazarus’ death.
I don’t know if Mary had any idea that Jesus would raise Lazarus from the dead, but Jesus knew he was going to do that.  He could have patted Mary on the head right then and there and said, “Hey, it’s okay.  I got this.” But he didn’t. He didn’t say, “Well, if Lazarus had had better health insurance…” or “we need to tighten the sword and cimeter laws.”  He didn’t crack a joke, or point out the cute little lamb frolicking in the next field over in an effort to distract Mary and Martha from their grief.  The Bible says “he groaned in the spirit, and was troubled.” (KJV, John 11:32) He then asked where they had laid Lazarus’ body and was taken to it.  Once there, the Bible says, “Jesus wept.”  (John 11:33.)
I have read this story before, and heard it countless times in church, and I never understood why the Savior of the World would weep over his friend, whom he knew he could (and would) bring back to life.  Jesus is the author of the great plan of happiness—the Plan of Salvation—he knows the end from the beginning—and yet, he wept for his deceased friend. It made no sense to me whatsoever, until now.
When something bad happens, we want to DO something to make it better.  We want to alleviate the suffering.  We want to comfort, or we want to point fingers, and blame, we want to change legislation.  We want to distract ourselves, gloss over things---tell ourselves that the victims are angels now and are in a better place.
But it’s all a bunch of crap.  The families of those who died at Sandy Hook are mourning.  I certainly can’t speak for them, but when I imagine myself in their place—I can only think that I would rather have my precious 6 year old alive, here, with me---no matter how glorious an angel he might be now, or how he is with the Lord.  I would imagine most of those families have, at this point, found little comfort—zero solace---in politics, jokes, in well intentioned comments about their angel-children and hero women. 
A truly compassionate person would weep.  Would mourn with those who mourn.  Even Jesus did this—and he knows perfectly how much better heaven is than earth.  Jesus groaned in his spirit and was troubled before he was even taken to Lazarus’ body.  He wept when he saw his dead friend.  The Bible said “he groaned within himself.” 
It wasn’t until after he had groaned, been troubled, wept—mourned again—that he reminded Mary and everyone watching, that if they had faith, they would see the glory of God. It wasn’t until Jesus had shared in his loved ones’ grief that he raised Lazarus.  He showed Mary and Martha how much he cared for them, and for their brother, by sharing in their grief—allowing them to grieve without glossing over it, or waxing poetic about Lazarus’ eternal soul. Jesus did not will Mary to feel better. He didn’t hurry her to the resolution of her sorrow.  He gave her time to grieve.  He grieved.
Like Jesus, we must mourn with those who mourn.  The time will come for talking of hope, of changing legislation, of laughing.  But we must first mourn, and allow others to do so as well—in their time and in their way.  The time will come for comfort, for talk of angel children and hero women, of beauty and jokes and how to make the world a better, safer place.  But we must allow for that time to come at it’s own pace.
For now, we weep.

Priorities (Applied)

For now, I’m just making a list of what I’m doing to make sure I keep my priorities straight.
Priority # 1: God.
If I’m not paying attention to my relationship with my Savior, everything else seems to fall apart---so my biggest two actions to make sure I’m staying in touch are:
Reading my scriptures BEFORE I get out of bed.  My phone is my alarm clock in the mornings and I have the Old and New Testaments as well as The Book of Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants, and Pearl of Great Price on the phone as well, so it’s super easy to pick it up and read after I’ve turned the alarm off.  I can just flick through, find wherever it was I left off the last time, and keep reading.  Even if I only read a verse a day, I feel I’ve accomplished something. I have more energy during the day and I am more patient and optimistic.
Morning prayers. I’m pretty good about remembering to get on my knees before bed and offer a prayer, but I’m not so good about starting the day with prayer—but I’ve found that when I do, my days go better.  I’m more patient, I have more energy.  Huh.  That sounds like what happens when I read my scriptures…and I’m all for a double dose of patience and energy!
Priority # 2: Husband.
Right now, I think the best thing I can do to nurture my husband is to go to bed at the same time my he does.  It’s a simple thing, really, but it’s one way to avoid living completely separate lives—and going to bed at the same time gives us a great chance to wind down together, talk, or…well, do other stuff….
Also, taking ten minutes to tidy up the house before Julio gets home, and making sure dinner is ready to eat when he walks in is a good thing for my marriage.  I recently implemented a ten minute cleaning blitz about half an hour before I expect Julio home.  It’s pretty simple, and so basic, I wonder why I didn’t think of it sooner.  A tidy house makes for happy people—and who doesn’t love to come home to a neat space? It sets a good tone for the evening. 
Meal planning—or at least dinner planning is a good thing too.  It takes the stress out of trying to figure out what we’re going to eat and gives me a chance to plan for the evenings when we’ll be gone all day (crock pot!) or gone in the evenings (picnic style!)  Julio always comes home hungry, so having dinner ready to go as soon as he walks in makes for a smooth transition from work to home!  Last Sunday evening, I sat down with Ellen (who was in charge of kitchen chores for the week) and we planned dinners together.  She wrote down our menu for the week and posted it on the fridge.  It was wonderful.  Everyone knew what to expect, and I had a visual reminder about what I’d need to prepare on any given day. 
How does cooking and cleaning nurture my marriage? It makes me a nicer person to be around, and frankly, it just makes Julio happy.  I like to make him happy.
Priority # 3: Kids.
I need to spend more face time with each of my kids.  It’s so easy to treat them as a herd.  It’s easy to ignore them or push them away with schoolwork or chores or TV and computer time.  We’re in the car a lot and it’s easy to tune them out via the radio or an audio book or CD. I need to be more intentional in my time with my kids.  They love to be read to—even the big kids.  We need to sing together more—doing it in the car would be great---but of course, I’ll have to start with goofy kid songs to ensure participation!  I definitely need to hug and cuddle my kids more.  I’d like to be the kind of mom that just randomly hugs a kid, but I have to really make an effort to remember to do that.  And when I tell myself “I need to give each kid five hugs today” it gets done.  If I don’t tell myself things like that, it’s easy for me to go all day without really connecting physically—and kids NEED that. My kids love it when I hug them, and they behave better and act happier when I “randomly” grab one of them and hug them and say, “You know, I think you’re a great kid and I’m glad you’re mine.”  I mean it when I say it, too—even if only ten minutes ago I was harping on someone to get their room clean or quit dawdling over the math assignment.

Revelations

I don't normally wear my religion on my sleeve, but I thought I'd touch on a few spiritual experiences I've had lately. For those of you who don't know, I am a Beehive advisor in my ward. For those of you who may be unfamiliar with Mormon-ese, that means I teach the 12 and 13 year old girls in  the youth program in my local church congregation.  As part of this responsibility, we are asked to guide the girls through a program called Personal Progress, which is a highly structured yet very individualized series of activities and exercises designed to help a young woman develop her faith in Jesus Christ, develop her talents, and overcome weaknesses.  In order to guide and direct the girls through the program, the advisors are encouraged to participate in the program as well.

After much dragging of feet over having yet ANOTHER thing to commit to, I started on the first exercise; a bit of study in the scriptures concerning faith, a commitment to begin and end each day for three weeks with a prayer, and a few sentences written in my journal about my feelings about how my faith has increased with prayer.  I admit I have been sort of hit or miss with my personal prayers for awhile, though prayers with the family and grace over the food have been a long time habit.  I have also been known to utter "Lord help me!" when a kid is having a meltdown at the grocery store or I'm fishing another sock out of the toilet, but actual "on-the-knees" conversations with God have been few and far between before I started this Personal Progress thing.  But, now that I'm involved, I have to say, it's been pretty awesome.

So, I'm coming up on the three week mark of this prayer gig, and I realized a few things:

My days go better when I start them with prayer.  I feel more centered, more optimistic, more goal-oriented, and more enthusiastic about taking on a houseful of gangly, energetic kids.

I am more alert.  Even when I've only had three hours of sleep the night before.  Prayer (even if it's done eyes open, driving home from dropping the four year old at preschool) is better fuel for a tired me than caffeine (but I'm still hedging with a daily Coca Cola.  What can I say?  Bad habits die hard.)  I notice things I haven't before.  My eleven year old is more obedient and long-suffering than I give her credit for.  (Ah, the blessing/curse of being the oldest child.)  My nine year old is patient and hard working and is very in tune with my moods and eager to please me.  My six year old a deep thinker behind all the comic book reading.  The four year old is a natural leader.  And I'm finally able to keep pace with my baby's shifting schedule.

I feel more spiritually "plugged in."  I have been asking in my prayers for guidance concerning my kids' greatest needs from me, and I'm starting to get some answers.  My oldest girl wants more than anything to be validated.  My oldest boy wants to feel important.  My middle girl needs to move her body around to focus and learn.  My little boy needs consistency and clear-cut rules.  The baby needed a break from solid food (she'd been cranky and not sleeping well until I laid her off the baby rice cereal.)  These were all revelations that have come to me within the last three weeks and each one was so significant, I felt like running through the house, hollering, Eureeka!"

This prayer thing really works.  I always believed in God, but I figured He had bigger things to deal with than whatever I might want to whine about.  Now, it's clear to me that my little issues matter as much to him as anything else.  That's a huge faith builder right there.