As a group, we visited the El Paso shooting memorial, the space created to honor what had happened a few weeks previously. There were no good words to say or think at the site, except to grieve and mourn at the explicit horror of evil.
The memorial brought to my attention important details about the event of which I was unaware, although you might have known them already: once at Walmart, the shooter targeted Hispanic people only and intentionally avoided those with white skin. There are no words for the inhumanity and evil of it all.
I’ve been thinking frequently about racism, of course, and I have been wrestling through tough questions. Why, if race has been one of the most shaping and defining forces in America, are we content to have so few frameworks and such limited language to discuss it, to learn and grieve and repent and grow?
My friend and I stayed an extra day in El Paso, and when we learned of an Anti-White Supremacy event happening that evening, we discussed if we should attend. I was afraid, and multiple thoughts flooded my mind: I am white. I do not know enough. I had never attended a march or protest before. And yet, a few years ago, I attended a reading of Letters from a Birmingham Jail by MLK Jr that deeply affected my conscience. In the letter, he expresses disappointment. Originally deciding that the greatest deterrent to equality has been the KKK, he reasons instead that it is actually the white Christian moderate "who is more devoted to ‘order' than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice...Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.” In essence, passivity and complacency in the face of evil can be as destructive as the direct wrongdoing itself. And so, I was reminded: I want to be so directly against racism that I will always, immediately call out evil for what it is when given the opportunity. What if I was more passionate about standing for what clearly matters than for being comfortable and safe?
We attended the event, which turned out to be a concert for unity, honor, and solidarity as the speakers celebrated the beauty of all El Paso people. It was incredible, such an honor to attend. The event wasn’t spiritual, but it was such a clear declaration of the Imago Dei, the truth that all people are made in the image of God.
I’m not an expert, but if you don’t want to be passive in this space either, a number of people wiser than me have recommended the book White Fragility: Why It's So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism as a place to start to learn. I’m in the middle of it now, and it has been eye-opening, transformative, and humbling in my journey in this space. Last year, I also read the book I’m Still Here: Black Dignity in a World Made for Whiteness - an incredible resource as well.
We can do better. We must do better. We must declare that evil is evil; we must not be content with “negative peace”; we must take a stand with love instead of sitting to the side; we must be a people of justice and righteousness today, right now.
To the victims and their families, to all those targeted because of skin tone or country of origin: I’m so sorry. The words are flimsy and cheap, invalidated by a thousand collective counter-actions, I know. But I want to be a voice that loudly proclaims that we want you here. You belong here. You are loved here. I’m so sorry.
