River Oaks is the poster child of
white privilege for many in Houston. River Oaks is a neighborhood with
concentrated wealth of an order that most human beings have never experienced.
It is a powerhouse of pretty houses and oil money, manicured lawns and luxury
cars, forming one of the wealthiest zip codes in the country. Within the
broader imagination of many Houstonians, River Oaks is the very image of
whiteness and nice things, a symbol of the preferential option of the white.
Now, in reality, most of the residents of River Oaks are kind and generous
people, the kind of folks who use their wealth as a force for good. I know a
few of these fine people and consider them my friends. However, it is the
racial imagination that matters here, the symbols that persons associate with
whiteness and niceness, blackness and badness. For many of the non-white and
non-wealthy in Houston, River Oaks is synonymous with whiteness and inequality,
and in general the injustices that oppress minorities and the poor.
Many in Houston imagine River Oaks
to be the kind of place where Travyon Martin was killed.
Two competing groups strategically
chose River Oaks for opposing protests last Sunday, July 21st. The
Houston leaders of the New Black Panther Party chose the neighborhood for a
protest in support of Trayvon Martin and against racial profiling. Their goal
was to march through a busy commercial area of the neighborhood, a place where
white people buy nice things, and proceed to march through a residential area
where those white people live in big houses. Now, a handful of Houstonians
upset with the protest formed a counter group in response and named it River
Oaks Stand Your Ground. They chose the Confederate flag as an emblem for their
website. They promised to meet their opponents on the streets of Houston and
‘stand their ground’ with picketed signs, chants, and rally cries of their own.
The stage was set for a pro-Zimmerman vs. pro-Martin battle, a contest that
promised to be racially charged, loud and crude, and without much hope for
hand-shaking.
When Justin announced on Sunday
morning that he would attend the protest on the sidelines in prayer, I knew I
had to join him. I wanted to see how the Church could respond to protests taken
to the streets. Even more, I wanted to learn how a pastor could function in an
environment of verbal violence and hurt feelings. Our pastor for bilingual
ministries at the church, Mireya, and two other Duke interns, Brandi and
Michelle, promised to join us.
We gathered at the battleground and
prayed. Ranks had been formed with the only ammunition available, words, armed
to the teeth. Police on horseback held the opposing armies at bay. I stood
agape and gawked at the total lack of peace. I looked at the crowds gathered
there in River Oaks, assembling on the battlefield for what must be called
racial combat, breathed in a sigh of lament and wondered, ‘how did it all come
to this?’
The pro-Zimmerman group gathered on
one side of the street at the corner of a busy intersection. They wove American
flags in the air. They carried signs that bore an oft-forgotten quote from the
movie Forrest Gump: ‘Sorry I had to
interrupt your Black Panther Party.’ Other signs read ‘You (the other
protesters) are the racists,’ ‘Come and take it’ (Remember the Alamo?), ‘Don’t
beat up a neighborhood watchman MMA-style,’ and ‘If Zimmerman is white then
Obama is white.’ The River Oaks Stand Your Ground group was a collection of
angry white people who were upset about accusations of racial profiling in the
Zimmerman-Martin case and the fact that non-white people were disgruntled about
it.
On the other side of the street,
marching down the sidewalk opposite to the Stand Your Ground group, was a much,
much larger assembly under the banner of Trayvon Martin. They carried signs
that read, ‘Racial profiling is f*ckin wrong’ and ‘No Justice, No Peace.’ Many
wore hoodies like the one Travyon Martin was wearing when he was killed. Others
carried pictures of Trayvon. There were about three times as many Trayvon
supporters as there were Zimmerman supporters, and the prior were much louder.
They were not afraid to flip the bird to their opponents across the street.
They marched through the busy intersection where the other group was gathered
and into a residential area with big fancy houses. The pro-Zimmerman group
followed and tried to shout even louder over their rivals.
Before me was the visible reality
of division. A white group and a black group were yelling at each other across
the street, not thirty feet away from one another. Their physical division embodied
their ideological division. They stood on opposing sidewalks as a city street
bisected them; asphalt was the line of demarcation between two warring parties.
The street served as a wedge that drove these people even farther apart from
one another, like one protruding island that divides the sea. They hurled
insults and racial slurs over the poor people stuck in traffic. There was zero
sense of unity in this dual protest, only division, sad and stark under the hot
Houston sun, marching along to the beats of two different drums. A total lack
of peace.
My good buddy Paul the epistle
writer had a few things to say about reconciliation. My favorite is this one,
as found in Ephesians: “For He Himself is our peace who has made the two groups
one and has destroyed the barrier, the dividing wall of hostility […] His
purpose was to create in Himself one new humanity out of the two, thus making
peace.”
One out of the two. That is Jesus’s
firm resolve. We shall rejoice with Him at the peace therein when the two
becomes one.
Protests are the great
de-blanketings of the dirt we try to cover up. In the 1960’s we passed historic
amendments and resolutions to ensure equality and justice for all. Yet we
pretended that words on paper would mask the feelings of our hearts. All of us,
every single one, harbors racism in our hearts and we try everyday to hide it.
We hide behind fake smiles and eloquent speech. We suppress what we think and
feel in fear of what would happen if we were to speak honestly. Protests are
sources of truth-telling about what is really on our hearts. They rip off our
precious blankets to reveal the dirt that has been there all along. Protests
are shocking and chaotic because they are one of few places in our lives where
we tell the real truth; they confront us with the dirty things all of us know
to be true but would rather not talk about. The first step to peace-making, and
therefore reconciliation, is to speak the truth that lies in the dirt of our
hearts.
We prayed there on the streets of
Houston as chaos swarmed around us, but now I offer up a different prayer. I
pray that truth-telling will happen around one table and not two sidewalks. I
pray that open-hearted, frank conversation happens around a table where all are
invited. I pray that opposing parties will look past the dividing wall and
consider what real reconciliation looks like. I pray for the next step, that we
may sheath our picket signs and sit together around a table of truth-telling.
And we shall rejoice with Him at
the peace therein when the two becomes one.