Why does talking about racial inequality evoke such strong a strong resistance in me? Why does it make me so uncomfortable? Why is it so important that I expose and attack every bit of inconsistency in the new ideas being presented to me? I don't fully know. Welcome to journey of exploring the conversation with me. I believe the answer to these questions is very interesting, and has a deep impact on how I show Jesus' love in my ethnically diverse city.
(If you have not read "Part 1" of this topic, you should do that first. Part 1 talks about how much I value and enjoy talking about issues regarding ethnicity and culture.)
The first clue in the puzzle is to acknowledge that people are different. My sister Lauren is an extrovert, and as such, in order to rest and regain energy, she jumps into the biggest group of people she can find. I am an introvert. I sometimes need to say to people, "No, I am not available to hang out with you Sunday: I will be resting at home alone." Not only are individuals different, but whole groups of people are different from each other. I grew up in a culture that attempted to alleviate racial tensions by promoting the idea of "color-blindness." "I don't see you as ___, I only see you as 'My friend Vanessa'." But before I can discover why I hate this topic while others feel a deep need for it, I first have to recognize that others have a different mindset from me.
Different groups have different ways of thinking and doing, different traditions, and different values. They have different "cultures". One group may celebrate reservedness and orderliness in social contexts, while another group celebrates expressiveness and spontaneity. This is not to say that all members of one group will fit into the mold of the group's characteristics. That would be to stereotype. To stereotype is to assume that a given member of a group will have all the characteristics that are assumed to be present in the whole group. To be cultural sensitive is to be aware that a member of a different group may have differences that come from the influence of their group--or they may not.
I must say a bit more about this. Many Korean Americans that I have met have a strong value for family. One Korean exchange student honestly could not understand why Americans moved out of their parent's house before getting married, "Do they not get along?" she asked. And so, when I meet a single Korean-American woman, I could make expectations based upon assumption that she still lives with her family: "So, do you still live with your family?" That would be to stereotype. To be culturally sensitive, I could operate with an allowance that she may or may not have be influenced by a strong value for family. I may not ask her to cancel a trip to see her family in order to come to our spiritual retreat until I have determined whether she holds to this common Korean value. I would make many observations and might ask questions like: "How is your family?" or "Who do you live with?" To acknowledge these differences, which are often drawn across racial lines, is not racism, but instead helps us to love one another more effectively.
This is my first observation about the resistance that I feel when discussing ethnicity and culture. I avoid acknowledging that there can be different types of people, and different ways of living that are equally good. I think this way in part because I grew up in a culture that has a high value for fairness and equality. When my mom bought a package of fudgesicles, we knew, without saying a word, that we must save one fudgesicle for each person in the family. I (and many people from my culture) apply this value for fairness to the race conversation in two ways:
1) In order for each person the be treated fairly, I think of all people as equals. In some cases, I mistakenly advance this "equality" doctrine by promoting "same-ness." This is where color-blindness comes from. To purposefully overlook a person's culture, financial status, etc, is to love them fairly.
2) I defend that my country's laws, institutions, and businesses are built upon the idea of "fairness and equality." Since this is the case, it must be impossible for racism to exist significantly in these structures.
Our high value for fairness serves us well. It prevents us from showing favoritism, encourages us to "defend the rights of the needy and oppressed" and preach the good news to "all nations." But the value for fairness becomes a problem when I refuse to acknowledge the different contexts and cultures of other groups of people. In 1995, the Median Net Worth (wealth minus debts) of the average black family in the US was $3,700, while that of the average white family was $43,800. Never mind the why for this difference. When I am unwilling to acknowledge that there remains a clear gap in economic well-being drawn along racial lines, I am allowing my value for fairness to establish a "sameness" mindset and to hinder my ability to love appropriately. When someone tells me that our nation's laws and institutions are not equally serving to all races, I resist because I have always believed that my fellow citizens value fairness as much as me.
I resist conversation about ethnicity and culture, in part, because it hurts to admit that "same-ness" is not accurate. And it hurts to acknowledge that my country, my friends, and I myself may not be as fair as I would like to admit.
Overflow
There were many more things that I wanted to discuss today, but this post is so long already! Some time in the future I hope to touch base on:
- Patriotism and the acknowledgement of faults in heroes I identify with
- The transposing of Accountable Freewill Individualism from Christianity onto our society
- Our value for rejecting the impact structures make our well-being (Anti-Structuralism)
- How our value for Faith and Belief can make us resistant to new ideas
