Twice on Wednesday, I almost cried.
Imagined the salty taste of tears pooling in the corner of my eyes
Choked, a little, on the lump in my throat.
The first time it happened, my almost 4-year-old son wanted my help. He loves the carousel but needs the extra support of my arms encircling him to really feel free. His perfect little boy body, his delight in the blue bird he’d chosen to ride…it was a simple mother and son moment. And just as the ride began, Katie Perry’s “Roar” on blast, I glanced out over the pier and watched the waves have their way with a few docked sailboats. Dark and thick, the Hudson River threatened to eat me alive.
If I didn’t pull myself together.
Later, I traced the tips of my fingers along the edge of the bench we sat on. I wondered if Hurricane Sandy was responsible for the water washed look of the wood. If it mirrored my fatigue. Lately I’ve felt so tired.
Maybe it’s the rivers fault. As much as I’ve loved having my coffee here for the past few days, the waters done a number on me. The ebb and flow of the tide rocks my emotions. Hormones fluctuate, answering the moons call. It’s healing and hydro therapeutic but it’s also nauseating. And, like I said, it brought me to tears. Almost.
I have to tell you something.
I wrote this a year ago….I wrote it in frustration. A call to the Christian community I know Gods placed me in to speak up…to acknowledge the death of a 17-year-old boy. At the time my Twitter and Facebook feeds made plain the troubled times we live in. The white Christian world on social media seemed to ignore the death of Trayvon Martin. It wasn’t happening in their world.
I was confused and heartbroken. Because I believe our Christianity demands we take part in these conversations. That we figure out a way to peacefully engage each other about what it’s like to live with the implied truths of a post racial society.
I have to tell you, racism is real.
I have to tell you my family lost a son like this, on the streets of Chicago. Over 35 years ago. Jo Lee was 16 and visiting from Alabama. Unarmed. He met the description of a robbery suspect in the area. Black male.
I have to tell you that I am the mother of 3 African-American sons. Each fits the description of America’s most wanted, the same description Jo Lee fit that night. Black male.
I have to tell you about that because you may not know the challenges black parents face, in raising sons. The stories we’re forced to telI. The fear, the prayers.
Mother, mother
There’s too many of you crying
Brother, brother, brother
There’s far too many of you dying
You know we’ve got to find a way
To bring some lovin’ here today, yeah – Marvin Gaye
Can I tell you something? I don’t want to offend you. That’s why I haven’t written. I hurt a friend last year with online words and the friendship has not healed. I’m sorry for that. And I’m learning.
The tension is palpable. Right now it feels like we’re living in the Wild West. The Hatfields, the McCoys, the haves, the have-nots, the police dept, every black male in America. It’s a holy hot mess out here.
And I’m tired.
I wanted to write but I didn’t want to offend you. My truth is tangled with soul memories from darker days. Two skips and a hop back in time and I’d have been a slave, maybe your families domestic worker, your sons blacker berry. This ugly chapter is embedded in our American history. Our DNA. My story is not like yours. And I’m still unsure how to deliver the message …to tell the story, without hurting you.
But I want you to hear it. And I want to hear yours. I know, you’re hurt too. But we can’t heal what we don’t acknowledge as hurt. And the silence is deafening.
Now, baptized in spirit, because of Christ alone – we’re walking toward each other. Slowly. So slowly.
And I don’t want to write about it, but I BELEIVE as Christians, we’re called to tell the stories. To go there for social justice. Because it’s true.
No Justice. No Peace.
And never more so than shown by the tear bombs and wooden pellets unleashed on law-abiding citizens standing peacefully in protest of a community member shot and left for dead in the middle of the street. It’s devastating and disgusting. The images of snipers positioned on rooftops to shoot civilians gives me nightmares. Has Ferguson turned into a police state?
I don’t want to carry these stories alone. I won’t be the midwife of all this pain, the treasurer of all these tears. We can’t only “go there”, when it’s convenient. We have to do the work even if we’re tired. Even when we’re scared. We have to do better. We have to be about, be FOR, reconciliation – every day.
It’s been a year.
I wondered why you didn’t write about it. Why you chose not to share this burden. Tell your story. And perhaps wrongly assumed your apathy.
I view every incident like this from a racially charged filter. I do. Black men have the monopoly on unarmed civilian murder by an officer of the law. It’s a fact. As a Christian, I look to my community to share the burden, the questions surrounding racism in America and how we can move forward. I’m trying to navigate this without being written off as another angry black woman. And I don’t want to be quietly spiritually shunned from all the online communities I love, for saying what you have to already know.
I don’t have to tell you, do I? – Racism is real.
And my shoulders are heavy and hunched over from too many days spent feeling closed in on myself and you and God because silence isn’t always peaceful. And I should have peace. Shouldn’t I? And now it’s morphing into frustration and anger and holy hot tears because I feel helpless and a centuries old fatigue has crept under my skin and if I didn’t know better I’d say I’m being haunted. By Trayvon, and Jordan and Mike and my uncle, Jo Lee.
My quiet isn’t peaceful. My quiet is not surrender. My quiet is tension filled, the calm before the storm, the lone cry of a lark ascending, a hawk circling. I stayed silent, singing softly in my head – out of feigned obedience.
God you are greater, greater…
I sang softly, swaying back and forth wringing my hands. Eyes closed. And at the chorus I let my voice rise and screamed
“took the keys from death and hell.”
and felt my spirit release, freed from a quiet that was killing me. Because I knew God wasn’t upset with me for being angry. And He hadn’t asked me to be quiet. He took those keys with Holy Spirit force. Sometimes that’s what it takes.
Please understand.
Being Christian doesn’t exclude us from the conversation. We have to speak up. To be clear, I understand we aren’t all called to every conversation and maybe you won’t write about it, but standing in solidarity with a hashtag or sharing posts you’ve read that resonate with the spirit of Christ and reconciliation could be a beginning.
And then the stories trickled in…
And a year later, my thanks to Esther Marie Emery, Sarah Bessey, Preston Yancey, Adriel Booker, Kathi Denfeld, Marcy Hanson, Beth Morey, Abby Norman, Kelly Greer, and Kris Camealy and others for writing, reading and being present with snippets of conversation as we all strive for peace.
We’re all quick to highlight each other’s short comings. Today I want to say I’m happy for the heart connections, steadily taking root, binding us in the real life work of reconciliation. We’re doing it. It’s slow, it’s hard but we’re doing it. We’re “going there”.
Today I watched the waves respond rhythmically to earths gravitational pull and I felt the omnipresence of an all-powerful God anchoring me. I’m not afraid of going under. Today I’ll ride the wave.
#TrayvonMartin #wakeupchurch #goingthere #ayearlater #MikeBrown
History despite its wrenching pain cannot be unlived but, if faced with courage, need not be lived again. – Maya Angelou
an offering to the community at Five Minute Friday
Five Minute Friday : Tell http://t.co/LZ3xhkqqVs
Thank you for this heart level, gut honest post. To be honest, some of the posts I’ve read by white bloggers have felt disingenuous to me, have felt more like it’s about writing on what’s going to get hits than genuine concern or knowledge about the situation. My not writing about Ferguson is not at all about not wanting to stand up against injustice or racism. (I can’t even begin to imagine your fear about your sons!) Me not jumping into the fray is more about me not wanting to do it for the wrong reason or to write something that further adds to the division and hatred. I am so blessed by you and Deidra, and like I commented on her post, I genuinely don’t think about the color of your skin, but about the heart that I sense in you both. But maybe in disregarding your skin color I’ve disregarded how it has colored your whole life and perspective.
Elizabeth Stewart recently posted…Psalm 90:17…
Hey Elizabeth…I guess my point is online we talk about just about everything. And we engage with people of our choosing. To rejoice with you over births, to offer prayer when someone requests it, to see my white Christian friends speak up and out about everything other than racism is hard. Is it fear more than apathy? Are we still ducking and dodging around this? I don’t want it to be so. I need you to support the weight of this burden. A hashtag, a note, a shared post tells me,, whether you agree with me or not, that at least you see it happening. Thank you for commenting, it means a lot. I do see change and I’m grateful.
I don’t really have any words, except to say for the longest time I had no clue what had happened in Ferguson. My FB and other social media feeds were filled with other horrors from around the word, and then Robin Williams and I’ve had to play catch up. I see a lot of bloggers writing about this, but I too wonder about their genuineness. I feel your heart. It’s honest, genuine and true. I need you to help me to see, to understand. I need your story. Thank you for writing my friend. Please keep share the hard and going there. Truly, this world needs to wake up and truly see through the eyes of Godly justice.
Barbie recently posted…The Weekend Brew: God Is Faithful Through The Wilderness
Hi Barbie. I miss hanging out with you at The Weekend Brew.. I really do. I think, if anything, this is the beauty of social media. It’s broadened my world. I live in June melting pot that is NYC. I see everything. It’s hard for me to imagine a world where I don’t experience diversity. And I know that’s so different of many of the communities Gods called me to online. We’re all learning and growing and I think this is where it starts…with telling the truth of all sides. Bless you.
I hear your voice. My heart goes out to you as a mother of a son, no matter the colour
Amen Wendy. Thank you for reading.
“I have to tell you. Racism is real.” A mother’s perspective: http://t.co/TLZYjMlSlU from @lishaepperson
Sigh. I’m so, so heartbroken.
What do I say to you my beautiful sister in Christ? This is not an easy topic to understand or discuss, but I know it is very real and alive. I came face-to-face with it during a Bible study that I facilitated last Spring. I feel it acutely when I as a white women find myself in a group of my black sisters and I miss out on the meanings of things because I don’t understand their past and their culture and their hurts. There are many of your Caucasian sisters who do want to understand and who do embrace you and who do pray for the hideous acts of violence that occur simply because of one’s skin color. It is a conversation we need to not shy away from. We definitely need to “go there” or there can never be understand or healing. Thanks for sharing.
*an FMF neighbor stopping by
And this is what I think we want. It’s what I want anyway. I want dialogue. I want to be able to have the conversations, honoring each other’s stories. Gods called me to this community online and it’s here I’ll stay. I know He’s doing a work. Bless you for so thoughtfully responding. Have a great weekend.
Grateful for you, Lisha. Thank you for your grace. After our conversation, the words are churning…my stories are surfacing. Pray for me? Pray for God to be fully in the telling….much love friend.
No rush with the words beauty. The work iself is sacred and should be done prayerfully. That said, I look forward to hearing your heart. It will only deepen our understanding of one another. I’m so glad we connected last night. It was a little stpe but one in the right direction. And big ups to you for not pushing out a post to follow anyones taunts. Gods timing. Always. Love you lady.
thank you for telling. i know i cannot understand, although i believe that the racism you speak of is real.
what i can understand, because of our experience of 15 years in w. africa, is what it means to be labeled (in both good and bad ways) because of the color of our skin – and the frustration and hopelessness that it might ever be different brings every day we walked out of the door of our house… how do we get to the point where there is no partiality and we can see others the way God sees them? i don’t know, except step by step, as we draw ever closer to the father and listen to others tell their stories without questioning their need to tell it like they see it.
Richelle Wright recently posted…Five Minute Friday ~ Tell
Jesus. This is the holy work I know he’s called us to. Reading the comments, hearing your side, whether or not we agree is a step in the right direction. Happy you’re here Richelle. Thank you for listening .
“Being a Christian doesn’t exclude us from the conversation.” So much truth in this, Lisha. So much. How often we sit on the sidelines because that’s not “our issue”. We’ve chosen something else to back and whatever is filtering through social media and the news doesn’t fit that bill. But this, this is the sanctity of human life. And if we stand for anything, we stand for that. So how can we not be drawn to this battle? This fight? I’ll stand beside you, my fingers linked with yours as we pray to bring this world to it’s knees at the feet of our maker.
Marcy Hanson recently posted…#GoingThere
I’m glad you wrote this, Lisha. Sometimes offending is the risk you need to take. I appreciate you a lot.
Esther Emery recently posted…#Ferguson and Me, or, Why Should I Care?
I love you so! This is powerful and so needed because it is honest and true and we need to hear it… we need to know and be reminded. It’s hard to even write that because it shows how removed we can be from what is going on when it doesn’t seem to be happening to us, in our neighborhoods… in our towns, but it IS happening to us. It is… So thankful for your voice and your heart and your shakey brave! Standing with you… praying, praising, riding the waves, and believing for freedom… for peace.
~Karrilee~ recently posted…That Thing I Do Now – Vol 57
“I was confused and heartbroken. Because I believe our Christianity demands we take part in these conversations. ” http://t.co/GRnkWrOdvh
“I belive our Christianity demands we take part in these conversations.” @lishaepperson http://t.co/yaoBS2YFVb
I read this last night & returned again today to reread. Thank you, Lisha.
No words, sweet friend. Just sitting with you.
Sandra Heska King recently posted…Still Saturday: Hands
It must be said, racism is still here but God is bigger. We must engage @lishaepperson http://t.co/tyLXUAHpfK”
Thank you for writing this, for helping us all to understand a little better, to see a little more. Thank you for showing us your heart, your life, your fears, your hopes. Always. And gosh, thank you for thinking I’m not completely screwing up my attempt to see and learn and know a little better, a little deeper. Love you. Please don’t stop showing us, telling us, challenging us.
“…I let my voice rise and screamed “took the keys from death and hell.” & felt my spirit release…” http://t.co/C84ZpaQLY8 @lishaepperson
RT @EstherEmery: “I don’t want to offend you. That’s why I haven’t written.” Please write, @lishaepperson. http://t.co/pmPVk7RRQV
“Now, baptized in spirit, because of Christ alone – we’re walking toward each other. Slowly.” http://t.co/e4qVcVtqHs @lishaepperson
Racism is real RT @lishaepperson http://t.co/OSjPY0ReyU
#FiveMinuteFriday #tell
http://t.co/NkyT3P6jwE
An important read by @lishaepperson Five Minute Friday : Tell http://t.co/WfRAdn0Oq6 #ferguson
Dear Lisha, we met a year ago through the Trayvon Martin tragedy. I remember the comment you left me when I found the words a month later — about how hurt you’d been by the silence. I’ve remembered that ever since. Sister, I want you to know I’m praying and sitting here in the pain with you. I am with you and so deeply
grieved by your family’s loss and what you must walk with your boys. Your pain is mine because I love you. I will keep going there with you and praying for Jesus’ kingdom come to this mess of “post racial” America.
Hey Ashley! Having friends like you helps me say the hard things. And oh my goodness, what a difference a year makes. My Five Minute Friday post opened the door for the most beautiful conversations and prayer. I’m beyond grateful. Love you beauty!
POWERFUL! As a mother of a 2 year old son, I spend more time worrying about “the talk”. I’m not talking about the bird/bees….well, that too….but I’m talking about the talk that says you will be judged by the color of your skin. The talk that says….as you so eloquently stated…that you “fit the profile” according to police because of your race/gender. My problem isn’t the talk….my problem is how do I reconcile that with YOU ARE SOMEBODY….destined for greatness. How do I teach him to stand up for himself and what is right, yet know when to keep quiet lest you be assaulted by an over-aggressive cop? How do I explain that you don’t have the liberty to “make a statement” with your clothes and hair because you are already misunderstood? Learn how to disagree without raising your voice…you don’t want to be labeled “the angry black man?”
How do I tell my son he can be anything….do anything….yet…the world is unfair?
Not expecting an answer….and I don’t know why I used your comments section for my stream of thought. I live 30 minutes across the river from Ferguson and have family there…so this really hits home.
Thank you for your offering to FMF
MomCents recently posted…Go Tell It – Five Minute Friday
There are no easy answers. i have 3 sons…32, 13 and 4. It”s been a constant struggle. Like you said, Ive worked to balance a message of empowerment with the tools they may need to save thier lives. The other thing I do is STAY in prayer. Bless you for reading and commenting. I appreciate the mama to mama engagement. Happy Sunday!
[…] And this post by Lisha Epperson has been personally encouraging to me: Tell […]
[…] left me emotionally spent. My trip to Ferguson in August was like a branding iron on an old scar. My families personal connection to the unanswered questions surrounding tragedy like this opened up a Pandora’s box of […]
Thanks for RT Amy! happy Sunday!