Why I Write on Race

No, this is not what I wanted to do. I did not choose this as my path, but it is the path on which I journey. At this time of my life, it is the path that must be acknowledged and no longer resisted. A deep sigh reveals my coming to terms with the convergence of my lived experience, my gift of words, and this moment in time. 

As a citizen of the United States dealing with the heinous and flawed construct of race is inevitable. To speak about it requires inner work that I wanted to avoid. Included in the work is one essential question. Has the racial system been designed to privilege or oppress people? While many of my fellow citizens may  deny that race is relevant to them and in their lives, for those of us who identify as Black, Indigenous and People of Color (BIPOC), the truth of our nation's original sin is our lived experience. It is no secret.

My parents sought to shield me and my siblings from the oppression that infiltrated our lives in an apartheid system. Even without the customary "Colored" or "White" signs, segregation was the standard practice in my hometown. My paternal grandfather spoke often of his early life experiences in particular the death of his parents when he was a toddler, being denied a just wage as a child worker at the brickyard, and his grandparents' guidance to defend himself against the white boys who beat him and stole his lunch as a child. Half a century later, the privileged mindset of the white bodies that attacked my grandfather as a boy were visible to me in the white bodies vehemently denying my rights on the evening news. Did I know people with white bodies that were filled with such venom? The relevance of the question continues another fifty years later.

I do appreciate my parents' efforts to shield us from the oppression of the system in which lived. Through love, they were committed to doing the best they could for us knowing they could not always protect us. By converting to Catholicism during the height of the Civil Rights Movement, as a child I encountered people with white bodies in my parish. Decades later, I struggle with the Church's human frailty as exemplified in her tepid response to white supremacy and other forms of oppression. While the universal Church may speak, the institutional and hierarchical Church in the United States appears to be more interested in protecting those who have white bodies instead of the Body of Christ. I am grateful for those who faithfully and courageously follow Christ to and in solidarity with those on the margins.

Today, I created the tagline for my blog, Leslye's Labyrinth -- ". . . writing from my African-American Catholic heart. . ." That is a clear and simple description of the font from which my words flow. These two aspects of my life are woven into a unique tapestry shared by only three percent of the Catholics in the United States. When I speak, it is in my voice knowing that my lived experience is not universal. 

When you first recognize a single lie of oppression or injustice, compassion, curiosity, and courage, will, in time, compel you to question other accepted beliefs. Whether they are ever voiced, the questions will rise. When society ignores them and subsequent demands for justice, it will nurture the actions that become the catalysts for the Workers' Rights, Women's Rights, Civil Rights,  LGBTQIA? Rights, Immigrant Rights, Black Lives Matter, and Me Too movements. As long as oppression exists, questions will arise, demands will be made, and, in kairos time, change will come. In support of this process, I write.