Black Futures: The Way Forward

My earliest memory of being scared of a Black man was when I was seven. On the way home from school one day, Mom stopped to pick up the dry cleaning. She left me in the station wagon because she’d only be a few minutes and could see me from inside. I scooted from the passenger’s side into the driver’s seat. I glanced into the side mirror and saw a Black man walking up the narrow space between our car and the one parked to the left. Panicking, I realized the car was unlocked. Just as he was parallel with the driver’s window, I flicked the electric door lock. My heart raced as the man paused and looked down into my pale, first-grader face. The thud of the doors locking had been loud, obvious – a signal I felt unsafe. I still recall his expression: a mixture of sadness and frustration. He gently, wearily shook his head and continued into the cleaners. He was there for the same reason we were: to pick up clean clothes.

My mother had taught me safety rules such as “don’t talk to strangers” and “always keep the doors locked.” I had also learned to be extra vigilant because I was a girl. But what I didn’t learn for years to come was that locking the station wagon doors that day wasn’t solely about protecting myself from strangers. As early as seven years old, I was already being steeped in stereotypes, biases and anti-Black racism. Years later in college, as a social work major growing in self-awareness, I reflected on that day and wondered, “Am I a racist?”

The National Museum of African American History & Culture declares, “No one is born racist or antiracist; these result from the choices we make. Being antiracist results from a conscious decision to make frequent, consistent, equitable choices daily. These choices require ongoing self-awareness and self-reflection as we move through life. In the absence of making antiracist choices, we (un)consciously uphold aspects of white supremacy, white-dominant culture, and unequal institutions and society. Being racist or antiracist is not about who you are; it is about what you do.” That explanation challenges, encourages and frees me.

I don’t want to be a racist any more than I want to be a sinner. Rather, I want my identity—who I am—to be rooted in Jesus. Does that mean I won’t have racist and sinful ideas or act in racist and sinful ways ever again? No. Because when I say “yes” to Jesus, it takes time to become loving like Him. I’m always already becoming. I’m in relationship with Him for the long-haul. So I can count on making mistakes and, unfortunately, hurting others – even if unintentionally. Thankfully, Jesus strengthens my ability to learn the skills I need to correct my mistakes: take responsibility for the impact of my actions (even if my intentions were good), authentically apologize, make amends and change my behavior. Just because I still sin doesn’t mean I don’t belong to Jesus. Similarly, as Ijeoma Oluo, author of “So You Want to Talk About Race,” says, “The beauty of anti-racism is that you don’t have to pretend to be free of racism to be anti-racist. Anti-racism is the commitment to fight racism wherever you see it, including in yourself. And it’s the only way forward.”

This month, we celebrate Black History – or Histories. I’m glad. It’s the right thing to do. Yet, as a community of learners and believers, even more right is to commit to co-creating – with each other and our Creator – Black futures defined by freedom and fairness, justice and joy. So much joy. To do so, we all need to understand that the Movement for Black Lives isn’t just a hashtag and Black Lives Matter isn’t just a slogan. Educator L. Glenise Pike points the way when she lists four ingredients of becoming antiracist: awareness, education, self-interrogation, and community action. I believe Union can offer all four if we keep following the Way, the Truth, and the Life.

Tanya Cochran is a professor of English and communicatiom