[Given by Petra as a Keynote Address at the 2006 Fall Conference of UU Allies for Racial Equity]
Good
evening. I'm delighted to be here with
you tonight, and I thank you for your warm welcome. It helps me deal with the
35° on that thermometer outside.
I also thank you
for the commitment you have made to our faith by coming here tonight. Your
presence tells me that no matter where you are in your learning about the
problem of racism in Unitarian Universalism, you are committed to addressing
it, and committed to creating a Unitarian Universalist faith that is truly
welcoming and sustaining for people of all identities. You may be familiar with
many of the issues that I will be addressing tonight, but I hope you will
excuse any redundancy on my part by your understanding
of the difficulty of preaching to the choir.
Working for
social justice has been a fundamental part of my life for as long as I can
remember. Even as a child, I remember looking for ways to contribute to justice
making. I remember clear and profound
feelings that something was fundamentally wrong with the world. Listening to
the conversations of the adults around me, I remember feeling that they were frequently
communicating far more than they are actually saying. I felt that everyone around me was talking in
a secret language about a problem that I was aware of but could not
identify.
I now know that
the problem was racism. I can even name
some of the particular aspects of racism that bothered me as a child. For example, I couldn’t make sense of the
contradiction between the landscape of my all-white town and the colorblind
rhetoric of its inhabitants. The
question I wanted to ask but could not articulate was, if race doesn't matter,
why are we all white? Why are the only black kids in my school bussed in every
day from Boston ?
If anybody can be anything regardless of race, why are all my doctor's
white? Why are all teachers white, and
everybody I see at my church?
As an adult,
I've come to realize that a lot of what drew me to church activities like
community service and social justice was my search for a language to articulate
my awareness of racism. The people around me who were planning the Oxfam
dinners and the trick-or-treat for Unicef program and the monthly community
service days seemed to be working to fix the world, and I was drawn to them
because I figured they must know what this problem was.
I continued
trying to understand throughout my youth. My search eventually led me to pursue
an undergraduate degree in American Studies with a concentration in Race and
Ethnicity. My undergraduate experience
encompassed a variety of disciplines in the humanities and social sciences, from
history to literature to psychology to sociology, all with an explicit focus on
race. I started this journey because I couldn't understand the power dynamics
and contradictions in the world around me.
At this point, I know I will probably never understand them entirely,
and yet this issue of race continues to draw me with a twisted fascination.
Race impacts all of our lives in innumerable ways every single day. I could no more stop trying to understand
race and combat racism and I could stop breathing, or stop being white.
After college, I
spent two years working in the Office of Young Adult and Campus Ministry at the
UUA headquarters in Boston .
A significant focus of my work at the UUA was to support the anti-racism and
anti-oppression efforts of young adults in our denomination. Through conferences, trainings, workshops,
and committee work, I had invaluable opportunities to engage in anti-racism
with Unitarian Universalists throughout the US
and Canada .
My UU young adult peers continue to impress me enormously with their commitment
to our movement and their passion for our faith. I was also able to work on collaborative
projects with members of the UUA youth office, and plan events and programs
geared jointly for youth and young adults. Despite the challenges of
multigenerational anti-oppression work, these projects were among the best and
most rewarding. I encourage you to seek
out current staff of the UUA youth and young adult offices, to learn more about
the exciting work they continue to do.
I've been truly
blessed with so many opportunities to support Unitarian Universalist
justice-making. Regardless of whether or not I am working in a Unitarian
Universalist context, however, my work for anti-oppression, anti-racism, and
social justice is grounded in my UU principles and my UU theology.
In my opinion, our seven principles communicate an explicit message that
the work of social justice is spiritual and religious work. I know that this is also true for many if
you, but in the bustle of secular life it is easy to get spiritually lazy. One of the mixed blessings of our flexible
faith is that it will only challenge us as much as we let it.
Unitarian
Universalism has a reputation for being an easy religion. After all, we don't have a dogma or creed.
You don't have to perform special ceremonies in special clothes on special
days. You don't even have to go to church!
And even if you do something wrong, most of us don't believe in hell so
you're probably all set. At first glance, it seems as though you can believe
whatever you want. All you really have to do is agree in a general way to go
along with the seven principles that our congregations adopted when they were
figuring out how to best work together.
It sounds so
simple. After all, there are only seven
principles. I’m sure you’ve all discovered, however, that as with many
seemingly simple things in life, our principles turn out to be much more
complicated the more we think about them.
The more we challenge ourselves as individuals to live out in our daily
lives the covenant our congregations made with each other, the more we realize
the authentic spiritual challenge they present.
Respect for the
inherent worth and dignity of every person. Too truly respect the inherent
worth and dignity of every person is not a passive project. It doesn't just happen because you read the
first principle and decide it’s a good idea. It takes work and energy and
effort. It takes care and attention and the ability to listen humbly. It takes accountability, and the ability to
hear criticism without getting defensive. It takes the ability to realize when
we are wrong, to sincerely and meaningfully apologize, and to truly forgive. It
takes the confidence to speak and work for justice even when such work is
unpopular, and the courage to let our thoughts be known even when we don't know
whether or not we’re right or wrong
For me,
respecting the inherent worth and dignity of every person is really hard. Every person.
Every day. Right now in my home state of Massachusetts , there’s a group of citizens
trying to amend our constitution to outlaw same-sex marriage. It's easy to respect the inherent worth and
dignity of the legislators, activists, and religious leaders who put themselves
at the heart of this debate and work to ensure that that marriages like the one
I share with my wife remain safe and legal. Not so easy to respect the inherent
worth and dignity of the guys who swore at us and told us we would burn in hell
when we walked across Boston Common together the other day.
My father works
for Boston City
Hall in an office that provides free advice and legal services
to new immigrants to the Boston
area. It's easy to respect to his
inherent worth and dignity as he and his colleagues work to provide vital
services and support to some of my city's most disenfranchised residents. Not so easy to respect the inherent worth and
dignity of the activists and politicians in our state who work to make
immigration process even more restrictive and difficult than it already is.
My Unitarian
Universalism challenges me not just in the secular world but in my religious
community as well. Respecting the
inherent worth and dignity of every person means being able to look critically
at our own congregations, and coming to the painful realization that the
culture we find in them does not, in fact, respect everyone.
Our principles call us to recognize oppression and
work to eliminate it. For me, the most fundamental part of this process is the
work of building respectful, healthy, and accountable relationships with each
other. Accountable relationships are central part of my UU theology because
they are natural outcome of respect and trust.
We build all kinds of relationships in our lives. As individuals we build friendships, working
relationships, and partnerships. As
people of faith we build relationships with the divine. The organizations we create build
relationships with each other. Our
congregations formed a covenant with each other around the seven principles,
and as this organization - ARE - is continually building and rebuilding an
accountable relationship with DRUUMM. Creating and maintaining respectful and
accountable relationships is challenging spiritual work. My Unitarian Universalist
theology tells me that only when our relationships are
healthy, accountable, and just are our religious communities spiritually
whole.
Engaging in
Social Justice is so fundamental to my religious beliefs that I am frequently
surprised to discover that the fundamental cause-and-effect connection between
them is not obvious to everyone. Our faith being what it is, not everyone agrees
with my interpretation of our tenants and principles. For me, one of the most
frustrating parts of doing anti-racism and anti-oppression work in Unitarian
Universalism is trying to explain why this work is so vitally important for our
religion.
As I discussed,
I have had many opportunities to work with amazing and motivated Unitarian
Universalists working for justice and anti-racism in our faith community. I've
also had many opportunities to work with many frustrating and obstinate
Unitarian Universalists intent on maintaining the culture in their UU community
exactly as it is because, for them, it is perfect. I distinctly remember a particularly trying
conversation I had with one of the participants at a young adult spirituality
development conference. He had attended
my workshop on cultural misappropriation. In my opinion, his nose was out of
joint because I had effectively told him that his identity as a wealthy white
man meant that it really wasn't okay for him to build a sweat lodge and tattoo himself
with henna. Somewhat typically, however,
he displaced the actual source of his discomfort and came to me to talk about
why our modern understandings of intellectual property rights meant that
ephemeral pieces of culture like songs and stories cannot, in fact, belong to
groups of people but only to individuals.
If we take a moment to consider the implications of his argument, I
think you’ll see that it leads to some disturbing and oppressive consequences.
If we maintain that cultural products cannot belong to groups of people, we
disregard the importance and value of cultural heritage. But he really didn’t
like the idea that the need to respect the integrity of people’s cultural
heritages could stand in the way of what he saw as his religious freedom.
I will freely
admit that I had a difficult time respecting his inherent worth and dignity
during this conversation. On other occasions I have found him to be thoughtful,
kind, and intelligent, but not just then.
I won't tell you how long I spent talking to him because the length of
time is rather embarrassing, but later, among supportive friends and allies, I
distinctly remember exclaiming, “Oh, for heaven's sake! I know he’s allowed to
disagree with me, but . . . I'm . . .
just . . . right!”
I'm sure that
many of you can relate to these kinds of frustrations. I'm sure we all can
think of a number of strategies to use in situations like the one I just
described. There are many ways to engage
in anti-racism work. Frustrating
encounters like the one I just described have helped me come to a clearer
understanding of the distinction between what I see as two parts of anti-racism
work: building knowledge and fostering skills.
The knowledge
part of anti-racism work involves knowing our history: understanding the events
and decisions that brought us to the oppressive society in which we now
live. Knowing and understanding the
definitions of words like white privilege and institutional racism. Learning to
analyze a piece of information and understand the different implications it has
for different people based on our identities. Finding our heroes in historic
and contemporary movements for Social Justice, and learning about the justice
struggles happening in our own communities today. Learning to recognize the
cultural biases in the world around us and identify their sources and
contexts. In our own UU congregations, we
need to understand how some parts of our history have kept us from making more
progress toward anti-racist transformation.
These realizations about ourselves and our faith are painful, but
building our awareness of our own shortcomings allows us to recognize our
authentic strengths. We need to know ourselves and our communities in order to
transform them.
Knowledge often
gets credit for being the most important part of anti-racism work, but it isn't
enough on its own. Education alone does not an anti-oppressive person
make. We also need to develop the
essential interpersonal skills of anti-racism work: listening, communicating,
building and maintaining relationships, thinking critically, and introspecting.
Learning about history does not teach you how to effectively talk to people who
don't have the same knowledge that you do, and it certainly doesn't teach you
how to effectively listen to people. To be effectively anti-oppressive we need
to develop the skill of listening to people deeply enough to understand where
they're coming from, and the equally difficult skill of communicating
fundamental concepts of anti-racism and anti-oppression in a way that is easy
to understand and connect with.
Knowledge is absolutely invaluable and essential to the struggle for
justice, but these communication skills are often even more useful in the
everyday work of creating a healthy multicultural community. During my conversation with Mr. Intellectual
Property Rights, I found myself using all of my anti-oppressive communication
skills to their fullest extent.
One of the first
barriers that we liberal white people usually encounter in our struggles to become
anti-racist is our own disinclination to see ourselves as white. Whiteness is supposed to be invisible. Whiteness is not supposed the important.
Whiteness is not supposed to mean anything. It's not even supposed to be
anything. The only thing it’s supposed
to be is “not of color.” But of course, as you all know, since you're here,
whiteness is important, visible, and it means an awful lot. One is the first steps in our anti-racist
transformation is learning to define ourselves as white.
This disinclination
to attach meeting and definition to whiteness reminds me of the way that so
many Unitarian Universalists feel similarly disinclined to define Unitarian
Universalism. Too often we Unitarian Universalists define ourselves only by
what we are not. We are not dogmatic and
we are not restrictive. We do not make rules about what we have to do or have
to believe. We do not put limits on
people’s spirituality.
Limits. Let’s
think about limits for a minute. I have frequently worked as a childcare
provider for a number of children between ages two and four. Through this work I've learned a few things
about the value of limits. Limits are important and reassuring for the kids
that I work with. Limits mean that I am paying attention to them, that I care
about them, and that I'm looking out for them. It means that if something
happens that makes them unhappy, they have a structure to fall back on. If I
don't put limits on their behavior, they start limiting each other’s behavior
through disrespect, bullying, and childhood power plays.
Without implying
that the psychological needs of a typical
four-year-old map out identically on to the landscape of our faith community, I
maintain that there is a lesson to be learned here. If we as a collective of Unitarian
Universalists do not define and put limits on what is and is not part of our
faith, then as individual Unitarian Universalists we will put limits on each
other. We will limit each other through
apathy and ignorance, we will limit each other by unintentionally playing out
the prejudices we internalize, and sometimes we will limit each other through
explicit disrespect and oppression.
Simply saying
that we are infinitely open and accepting of all individuals does not actually
make us a welcoming, sustaining, and inclusive faith. Instead, it takes away from our ability to
hold each other accountable to the authentic spiritual relationships we hope to
create in our communities. With a lack
of limits comes a lack of expectations for appropriate, healthy, and
justice-seeking behavior. If we do not limit what is and is not ethically and essentially
part of Unitarian Universalism, we cannot hold each other accountable our
faith. We will limit not only each other but our entire faith. Without
effective, meaningful, accountable, and well constructed limits, we will
prevent our faith from achieving the anti-racist transformation we say we want
and make hypocrites of us all. We must
be able to articulate a clear understanding of who we are and how we live our
religious values, or we will have no sure guides for creating accountable,
welcoming and sustaining Unitarian Universalist religious communities.
This question of
limits is fundamentally connected to the confusion about race that I
experienced as a child. My Unitarian Universalist religious education taught me
that my faith was one of freedom and exploration in which all people were
welcomed with open arms. I looked around
my church, and I didn’t see much evidence that our invitation was being
accepted. If Unitarian Universalism is truly so inclusive, I asked myself, why
are we all the same? My faith seemed
vague and indefinite. I was looking something concrete, challenging, and
inspiring to guide my spiritual life.
Working with
children has also taught me thing or two about the effective use of the word
“no.” Limits by themselves are not enough.
We also have to offer an alternative.
It's all very well to tell my three-year-old charge not to eat the
crayons, but if I don't hand him some crackers or applesauce, he'll turn right
around and start eating paint. Similarly, it's not enough to say, don't be
oppressive. We also have to be able to say, here’s a healthy, respectful way to
do worship. Here is an accountable and authentically just way to do religious
freedom. Here is a right way to do
faith. Here is a Unitarian Universalist way to do religion.
Thinking about
some of the challenges I commonly encounter as I work to combat racism and
oppression within our Unitarian Universalist community reminded me of a related
frustration I had while at college. One
of the best classes I took at school was a survey of United
States history entitled "Ethnic Minorities in America ."
Structured chronologically, the course systematically covered the experiences
of different groups of People of Color in the United States . The course provided
an invaluable foundation for my entire undergraduate experience and for my life
outside of school. It gave me the background and context for the justice
struggles I saw happening in the world around me and a vocabulary to explain
the paradoxes of my white and liberal middle-class upbringing. I know I wasn't alone in finding this course
so affecting.
Multicultural education
was a heated topic at my school. I was
part of a large and vocal community of students and professors who called for
the school to put greater emphasis on the study of race relations, imperialism,
and of the histories and struggles of People of Color. Although many of these
kinds of classes were available, they were only available in particular
departments: sociology, history, African-American studies -- the usual
collection of humanities and social sciences classes. Whether through conscious intention or simple
apathy, most students of science, mathematics and languages avoided those
classes. I felt that an understanding of oppression was essential for all
students at our school, regardless of academic discipline, and that no one
should be able to get out of it by avoiding the history, literature, and social
science departments.
I decided to see
what it would take to adjust the graduation requirements so that everyone would
need to take a class about the history of oppression in America . Surely
if I could just make the entire school take my amazing “Ethnic Minorities in America ,”
class, things would improve dramatically.
How could my fellow students fail to have the same profound experience
that I had had?
I was talking
about this issue with one of my professors after class one day. His name is
Professor Floyd Cheung. He is a Professor of English and Asian Pacific
Islanders Studies and a first-generation Chinese-American. He is also one of the most thoughtful and
insightful people I know. I told
Professor Cheung about my scheme. Instead of immediately agreeing and offering
to help me write the proposal, which is what I had kind of expected, he fell
silent, frowning thoughtfully.
You know Petra,
he said after a moment, history is not everyone's cup of tea. I'm concerned that if all students were
required to take a particular class, or a particular type of class, about the
history of oppression, then that class would lose its meeting and its
power. Aside from simple overcrowding in
the classroom and aside from the unfair amount of work that that would put on
the few professors who are qualified to teach such a class, I'm sure that the students
would find ways to “beat the system.” People’s experiences in the classroom are
much more rewarding when they are authentically passionate about the subject
they are studying and the skills they are learning. I would encourage you to
try and think more broadly and more deeply.
Instead of requiring science majors to take a class in multicultural
history, how much more profound would it be to require that science be taught
from a multicultural perspective?
I started to
think to think about that. How much more
profound would that be, and what would it even mean? How do you teach science
and math from a multicultural perspective?
What is multicultural biology?
What does anti-oppressive organic chemistry look like? What is revolutionary calculus? What does an
anti-imperialist approach to the study of the French language entail? Anti-racist psychology? Anti-sexist engineering? How much more
profound indeed.
How much more
profound to require that no French class be taught without equal inclusion of
writers from the French imperial colonies in Africa, in Southeast Asia, and in
South America. How much more profound to
require that no psychology class be taught without addressing the way the
cultural biases and expectations of psychologists influence the outcomes of
their research. I recently heard an anecdote from a very dear friend about his
Intro to Chemistry class at Cornell. As part of his course, his Professor
assigned readings from the memoirs of Italian Jewish chemist Primo Levy, who
was interned in Auschwitz during the
Holocaust. Through their discussions and
essays, my friend and his fellow students learned not only chemistry but
history and religious tolerance. Simultaneously. How profound indeed. As Professor Cheung told
me, people are more passionate about the subjects they choose for
themselves. How much more profound to
require people to teach and learn about their passions in a way that is
anti-oppressive, and to understand how their chosen discipline –whatever it may
be- is intricately connected to the struggle
for liberation and justice that we all share.
Like academia
segmenting into various disciplines, we Unitarian Universalists tend to segment
our religion into bits and pieces as well.
The community piece. The spirituality
piece. The social justice piece. The
religious education piece. The pastoral
care piece, the music piece, the worship piece, the decorations and
refreshments committee piece. The leadership
and governance piece. The anti-oppression piece. People choose to participate in the pieces
that are most meaningful and interesting to them. For many Unitarian Universalist, it is this
exact freedom that defines us.
In so much of
the anti-oppression work we try to do to transform our denomination, the fundamental
goal is to inspire all UU’s to participate in
the anti-oppression piece of our faith (usually, workshops). But in the same
way that not everyone is a history person, not everyone is a workshop person
either. The gentleman that I talked about earlier -- the one concerned about
intellectual property rights -- was exceptional among his crowd in that he
actually came to the anti-oppression programming we offered at that
conference. A lot of our participants exercised
their religious freedom by opting out of the anti-racism track. The more I think about this, the more I
wonder how much more profound would be for our faith to require that all the
various pieces of Unitarian Universalism be done in a way that is anti-oppressive
and anti-racist.
For many
Unitarian Universalists, it is our freedom that defines us. The problem with
defining ourselves in terms of our freedoms, however, is that we end up
unwilling to pin ourselves down to anything. Remember what I said earlier about
the fundamental importance of well constructed limits? Freedom from dogma is
wonderful. Freedom from everything is
empty.
Defining
ourselves by our limitless freedom becomes even more troublesome when we think
critically about the origin and source of the freedom we claim. Who set Unitarian
Universalist free? We set ourselves
free. Why was our predominantly white, predominantly wealthy, predominantly
well-educated denomination able to do that? Because of the privileges of class
and race. We proclaim ourselves free to explore and discover, but you know
what? So did Christopher Columbus. Large groups of privileged white people who talk
only of their freedoms and will not accept limits are not trustworthy. As a
Queer person, I am used to hearing the words "God is Love," and
understanding that not all of the people speaking think that God actually loves
me. Without presuming to speak definitively from a perspective and identity not
my own, I would imagine that most People of Color are used to hearing the words
"we're all free here," and knowing that the words don't necessarily
apply to them. We have to be able to define ourselves in a way that is
trustworthy and accountable to the people we hope to be allies to and the
people we hope to include.
Instead of
defining ourselves by our lack of limits and our freedom to do as we please,
what if we were to build our faith in such a way that we could define it by our
welcoming, sustaining, just, and spiritual communities? What if being anti-racist and anti-oppressive
truly was an essential, integrated, and fundamental part of Unitarian
Universalism? How much more profound indeed.
If all aspects
of our faith were built on a foundation of authentic respect for all people,
our churches would overflow. If all of
our work for social justice were truly grounded in and driven by an
authentically Unitarian Universalist theology of just relationship, we could
truly change the world. The foundation is laid and the tools are in our
hands. We need only start to build.
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