You know what I was thinking yesterday? I was thinking about the irony of #BlackLivesMatter and the push by black people to demand their white friends hold the same stance lest they deem them racist. It looks as though black folks are still wanting/needing whites to validate them. That’s so 1950, Blacks. Get it together already.
The Civil Rights movement gave us the ability to validate ourselves. To hold ourselves up and do and be whatever God wants us to do and be. And there’s the caveat–what God wants us to do and be.
I had a conversation with my kids this morning. On my white board (though black boards matter), I have a list of truths about who we are as people. I don’t do it every day, but today, I remembered to call my children into my room and we read them.
I am God’s child.
I am forgiven and free of condemnation.
I am God’s workmanship.
I am made new.
I am more than a conqueror.
I am safe from the evil one.
I am a citizen of heaven.
I can do all things through Christ.
I had both my children read these aloud this morning, and I read along with them. I told them the truth–that they are worthy and important because GOD sees them that way. I told them that though I don’t believe there is systemic racism, that I don’t believe white cops are out hunting black people as soon as we leave our homes (sorry, LeBron James–white cops are not hunting you as soon as you leave your multi-million dollar mansion.), that I don’t believe white people are keeping us from being considered equal, there are people, racist people, who believe we are inferior to them. I told them that should anyone tell them they can’t do or be something because of the color of their skin, they are to go back to the Word of God and find out differently. I told them that they needn’t wait for white validation. They needn’t wait for black validation, for that matter. I’ve had black people try to invalidate me and my beliefs more so than white. And I warned them against feeling any validation from whites spewing their supposed white privilege, telling them their lives matter just because they say they do. Their lives matter because God says so. Their lives matter because they were conceived and born–that’s it. They were born, therefore their lives matter. And I also warned them against believing their lives matter any more than anyone else’s life. I warned them against specificity of lives mattering. I warned them against even speaking such rhetoric. Because to do so instantly segregates them, placing them in a group separate from the rest. And people died fighting against that very thing.
I hope to see a day where black people stop looking for their white friends to validate them and their cause, but I don’t think I’ll see that day. Maybe I’d see it if black people spent less time rioting and championing for a senseless cause and more time encouraging their children, telling them how amazing and worthy they already are. All I can do is make sure my kids find their validation on a daily basis–first from their God and secondly, from their parents.
Then we prayed, thanked God for allowing us to see another beautiful day, and went off for a day of shopping, spending the money I worked hard for and earned with my black privilege.