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Posts tagged verdict

A Drum Solo and Dance for Peace : Releasing My Christian Anger {for Mike Brown}

Nov 25, 2014 19 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson
dancer1

all photos: flickr cc Dave Pape

Its 3:22 p.m on Monday, November 17th. I live New York City but my mind, my mind is in Ferguson. All day, several times today I’ve scrolled through my news feed waiting for the news. So far…nothing. But the National Guard is on alert and local and nationwide people are preparing for the grand jury’s verdict.

I’m trying to not make Ferguson about me. But it is. #BlackLivesMatter

Since Last Thursday I’ve sat with the feelings behind this post. Chewed the cud like a cow on what I would say if asked. What I would say when the decision comes down. How I’ll tell my teen-aged son that another unarmed black man was shot and killed and no one will go to jail for it. The precedent set says it’s not a crime to kill unarmed black men. Or maybe it is, but try it, you’ll probably get away with it. A lot about this world scares me.

I’m trying not to make Ferguson about me but it is.

So I can’t write the Jesus is love, let’s move on in prayer post. Although that is what I will do. My faith is built on Christ’s finished works on the cross. And grace. Anything going on or not going on is no surprise to Him. Not even this post. But there is room, even grace for my holy righteous anger. Christians can be angry too.

So I’ll write what drums out of my heart. Blow fresh wind on a dream deferred. Beat the hope I need out of a drum. I’ll cry and teach my children to love. I’ll pray.

♥♥♥

drumsolo1
I closed the screen last night, the bright white light from my iPad having finally won the battle with my eyes. I took off my glasses, resting my face between my palms. I remembered a feeling I had on the train the other day.

I took a ride on an iron horse in the belly of the beast. The New York City subway to be exact. It’s chauffeured me around the city all my life. From dance class to museum, to school. Uptown, down town, across town but always, always home. Not today. Today it feels like the Amistad.

I found myself and my girls 3 of only 4 people of color on a crowded train in Harlem headed downtown. Gentrification will do that. We hopped on, the doors closed and suddenly, my soul remembered.

His name was Bongo, a percussion specialist and teacher for the Board of Education. In his free time he gave impromptu performances/ history lessons in drum culture. He played and talked and sang a percussive, persuasive beat. A melody drilled in my core since the beginning of time. I couldn’t be still. I can’t. The drums are calling.

dancer2

The rhythm took over and I imagined the power of the drums. The power of a form of communication…for celebration, mourning and warning. Bongo told us about the silencing of the drum. And I remember the most effective way to vaporize a whole culture is to deny their customs and culture. Their music, their stories.

It begins with a little toe tapping and hip swaying. My chest is ready to pop but first contract…ahhh release. I heard the rhythm in my head and my body saluted the drum. An involuntary salutation of movement and prayer. I give in. It’s visceral, tangible and my daughter looks at my face as she catches a glimpse of the drum in my eyes. She knows I’m dancing.

I’m doing a centuries old dance where I move like a mother who wonders what will become of her daughters, a woman who may have lost her husband….forever. I’m thinking like a woman trying to hold her family together and a woman who’s afraid for her life. How much? How much? What is the price for a human life? How much am I worth? my daughters…my sons? Will this ever change?

The doors open and close as we make our way downtown. I’m spent. My movements were a mournful lamentation and offering – a cry. But a song won’t come.

It’s a difficult subject with no easy answers. Many don’t see the church as part of a movement towards social justice. I do. I’m a daughter born of the peaceful sit-in…but also the riot. I’ll turn the other cheek…only so many times. I bet that’s true of you too. And I’ll be honest I struggle because we live in a country that fought itself to wipe out the vile business of slavery. How do you live the love of the Bible with the side that lost?

dancer3

I’ve said before fight or flight is real and it’s human. Most men will move to defend themselves when threatened. Women too. That’s what’s suggested of the officer. He shot in defense. But what of Mike? For men of color being pulled over by a police officer is often a life-threatening situation. They grow up knowing this. I can’t say Mike Brown was an innocent man. I can say he was unarmed. And shot 6 times. I can say I don’t believe he deserved to die.

For there they that carried us away captive required of us a song; and they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion.
– Psalm 137:3

I will not sing. But I won’t be silent. My weeping has turned to rage. It’s gnashing of teeth and holy hot fire streaming down my face. They’d rather I sing . Sing while they dishonor black life, sing…while they trample human dignity. They ask for a song. I will not sing.

So no more words. Let’s pretend all the differences and drama are done. Today I will not sing… I’ll beat the drum.

This is the rhythm from rivers of blood poured for peace, for justice, for freedom. It’s holy and sanctimonious. Its sunshine and rain, blazing and bloody. It’s loud and it won’t be stopped. And I don’t want this feeling to leave me…this rhythm to disappear like the rainbow I saw last week. It’s fuel and fire. It’s life and longing and hope and tears. It’s my heartbeat. And yours. This is the drum.

Play with me, pray with me now on the djembe, the bada, the conga and the bongo. Batta bop, bop, bata, bop, bop…. Mike…Brown….Batta bop,bop,bata, bop, bop Mike …Brown

The grand jury decision is in. Darren Wilson will not be indicted….but that doesn’t mean a crime wasn’t committed on August 9th.

Hear me now…

I’m trying not to make Ferguson about me
but it is.
I’m trying not to make Ferguson about me
but it is.
Ferguson is about me.
Perhaps Ferguson is about you too.

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Posted in christianity, faith, life, uncategorized - Tagged #blacklivesmatter, drums, Ferguson, grace, mike brown

Racism in America : Ignorance is Bliss But It’s No Longer an Excuse

Jul 18, 2013 16 Comments ~ Written by lisha epperson
racism ends

racism ends when we say so…
photo: flickr by OZinOH

I wrote a piece about racism and my feelings after the Zimmerman verdict was released. I was hurt …bewildered but I’m guessing like most of you…not surprised. The blanket of ignorant bliss that covers this country was pulled back. The still raw and very deep gash created by racial division,  again…exposed.

I pressed send and waited for the peaceful dialogue to begin…I trolled Twitter and Facebook. Looking for words of wisdom, another point of view, angry and annoyed outbursts.  What I discovered was two different worlds.  My FB and Twitter accounts are worlds apart..populated by Americans living and experiencing vastly different realities based on skin color.  The disparity was alarming.

My Facebook page is comprised of mostly African-American women.  Many are personal friends that have migrated from my personal page to talk motherhood, infertility, adoption and relationships. My Twitter followers are largely not my in real life friends.  They are women and a sprinkling of men who have connected with me as an infertility survivor, adoption advocate and follower of Christ.

My Facebook friends were outraged. Every other post screamed the injustice felt. I’ve searched on Twitter  the past few days for reaction on the verdict from a mostly Christian community and by and large found nothing.  I got 2 retweets on my blogpost and 1 on the call to conversation. I found a beautiful post from Deidre Riggs…she blogs at Jumping Tandem and as a contibutor for Allume and InCourage. I was delighted to read the comments on her post and will check back for more. Denene Millner of My Brown Baby and Darcel from The MahoganyWay also expressed their frustrations in thought provoking blog posts.   I retweeted all of them. I commented. These were all black women who for the most part shared my pain.  But I wanted to hear the other side. I asked questions in hopes of getting the conversation started on the other end, but….nothing.

I received only one comment on my blog that expressed an opinion very different from my own. I am grateful to Vanessa at Hearts on Guard for sharing her views.  I appreciated the opportunity to hear and be heard by a fellow believer who sees this story from a different angle.

So the question I’m asking is why not?  Have we all entered that space where we collectively sigh over tragedy and proceed with business as usual because we’re all too numb.  This type of injustice…our new normal?  Or is it that the veil of privilege covers the eyes of its constituents…keeping them blind to the alternate reality of the African- American in America.  Our Christian community is staying silent and I don’t know why. Are we hiding the very real fact of racism under the prayer cloth as a way to avoid the communication we fear.  Needing to go there,  we choose instead to pray it away.

Brothers and sisters in Christ – your African-American family is hurting over this and your silence is adding salt to a long  standing wound.

Some church leaders made blanket statements. Refusing to say any names, they tweeted glib comments about “these hard times”. They failed us.  In skirting the issue they displayed cowardice and flaunted the worst kind of weakness.  The church refused to take a stand and its lack of conviction creates a culture of complacency. It is powerless and fickle. It is unproductive.

The church should be at the center of all community building efforts and that can’t happen if we aren’t talking.  We’ll  have to walk this road together…hand in hand or not at all. Christ connects us but we are clearly living in different worlds.  My friends…racism is real…and we’ve got to deal with it.  The bridge building will have to be done by us.

photo: flickr by uusc4all

photo: flickr by uusc4all

Since the verdict I realize that most of us (Christians) aren’t talking about it because we didn’t follow this case.  It wasn’t, isn’t important enough and doesn’t register in our world. God is love. I get it.  But wow!  What an aha! moment.  What a terribly sad moment of revelation.  As Christians, how do we travel across the globe desperate to meet the needs of Africans ,Haitians..the sick,the lost…and then choose to remain blind to a very real problem of racism in our own backyard? Our hearts bleeding and filled with compassion for “those” people, those situations.  The thing about integration in the church is that it hasn’t really happened.  We remain segregated.  The black church, the white church with so little room for Jesus, who should be the center of it all. Church, I know we can do better.

I talked yesterday with a friend about the verdict and how it’s been so difficult to process. She is a white woman and openly shared her experiences as a child. She told of racist family members and the perpetuation of the black boogey man in every scary story. She admitted her fear of running into a black  man when she moved from middle America to NYC.   She held back tears as I told her about my deep, core shaking sigh upon hearing the first  child I would raise was a boy.  It’s true….black mothers pray special prayers over their sons – and no one teaches this.  It’s in our DNA…a mournful lullaby from long ago prayed, whispered, breathed over every male child born into a family. She confessed that never has she had an experience that would validate all she’d been taught to fear about about black men – subliminally or otherwise. We went there and I was grateful for it.

I kept glancing at our boys.  They talked and laughed as we shared this moment of confidence and complete trust.  They’ve  loved each other a long time…bonding over Minecraft, email, face-time and Legos. But this weekend, their worlds parted. While her son played baseball and enjoyed the usual weekend flow – I had to talk to my son about how to behave if approached by an officer of the law. How he should not make any false moves, maintain a submissive stance , not reach into his back pack.  For anything.  My boy participated in a centuries old, depressingly sad rite of passage this weekend. He’s 12 and to me ..still ripe with the innocence of boyhood. But  on Saturday…after the verdict…he became a black man and with that, not  so green anymore.

Friends in Christ the floor is open…

what are your thoughts, how are you making sense of this tragedy? are you one of very few African-Americans in your community of believers? are you white with very little interaction with people of color? Do you attend a primarily white or black church?  Did your pastor speak on this topic last Sunday?  what did they say? what…are your thoughts?

and again…the floor is open…

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Posted in christianity, faith, infertility, motherhood, parenting, relationships, uncategorized - Tagged America, Facebook, Life, racism, Twitter

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lisha epperson

lisha epperson

recipient of grace, lover of family, woman of God. Christian, homeschooling mama of 5, wife of 1. believer in miracles and the promise of redemption. passionate about parenting, adoption, women, nutrition, dance, fashion. a lover of words.....

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