A Teachable Moment
A Teachable Moment
By Dr. Mary McClintock Fulkerson
Professor of Theology
Duke Divinity School
It would be wonderful if the recent furor over President Obama’s comments criticizing the white police officer’s treatment of Harvard Prof. Henry Louis Gates proved to be a true “teaching moment.” While it is impossible to keep up with the constantly shifting version of reality offered by the news media on such things, at least two themes implicit in this story beg for theological reflection. First, why is “race” always attributed to minority populations and, secondly, why should Obama be criticized for getting “off track”—for not talking about “all of the American people” as one commentator put it—if he brings up race? These themes are connected and have significance for the church.
Race in the U.S. is similar to gender. Both are markers of identity typically associated with a particular group, in the first case, people of color, in the second, women. Think of the presidential election press coverage—only Hilary Clinton and Sarah Palin had “gender;” only Barak Obama had “race.” This assumes that only white men have no identity markers, e.g., are simply normal human beings without interests shaped by social location. Now having “race” or “gender” does not indicate “minority” in the numerical sense—women frequently outnumber males, especially in churches. No, the “marked” vs. “unmarked” designation is about power: being “unmarked” has to do with dominance; being “marked” indicates that a group has in some sense been historically marginalized.
Theologically speaking, why isn’t historical marginalization, or being “marked,” a concern of everyone? Why is race only an “issue” for African Americans, or others designated as persons of color? Why is “whiteness” -- my race and its attendant privileges— typically hidden and rarely if ever acknowledged? Why do we continue to engage in what race theorists like Ruth Frankenberg calls “dodging difference” or “color evasion”? Why do we whites continue to think things are fine-- we don’t see color-- when, in fact, “colorblindness,” as sociologist Eduardo Bonilla-Silva puts it, is the new form of racism? Our egregious racial history still shapes our society; we cannot act as if things like racial profiling are only the problems of “minority” groups. Our country is in desperate need of discourse of the common good, so that when Obama raises issues of race he is respected and appreciated, not lambasted for playing the “race card.” Although complicated, messy, and scary (especially for whites), these are crucial issues for “all of the American people.”
In this “teachable moment,” public discourse could surely learn from the church. As it seeks to follow Jesus, the church replaces “individualism” with stories and faith practices around grace-filled community and concern for the “outsider.” However, most white churches have a great deal in common with the culture of color evasion. Only 2.5% of mainline churches have significantly interracial membership; evangelical churches do only slightly better with 6%. We may not be individualistic, but how often are “community” and eucharist gatherings with folks just like us? Our challenge: let this be a “teachable moment” for the church. Let us face one another across deep racial and other divides in sustained and grace-filled honesty. Let us do “welcoming community” with less color-blindness. Is talking about our different experiences with regard to race and the implications of racial difference for our lives difficult and scary? You bet; that’s why many of us don’t do it. But incarnation is by definition messy and worldly.
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On color-blindness as the new
“I sat on a stool and read the eye chart with no problems. The nurse placed an open book on my lap and asked if I saw any numbers in the pattern of colored dots. I pointed out the yellow-orange eight-six in the sea of gray dots and asked the nurse what I was being tested for. The doctor stopped shaking long enough to interrupt the nurse and answer, “Colorblindness.” “Our teacher says we’re supposed to be colorblind. That’s hard to do if you see color, isn’t it?” “Yeah, I’d say so, but I think your teacher means don’t make any assumptions based on color… “So?” “So just pretend that you don’t see color. Don’t say things like, ‘ Black people are lecherous, violent, natural-born criminals.’” “But I’m black.” “Oh, I hadn’t noticed.”
This vignette from Paul Beatty’s novel, The White Boys Shuffle, portrays a scene that speaks to colorblindness as the new form of racism. This vignette, ironically set in the context of a physical examination, reveals both a deep wound and the proposed treatment. While the intentions for healing may be admirable the treatment, even as it is revealed in the excerpt, proves to be ineffective and superficial. The deep wound is indicated by the very need for color-blindness or the need to warn against making assumptions based on color. The wound evident in this vignette is that such lies, as black people being lecherous, violent or natural-born criminals, have become so prevalent that they would inform the thoughts and assumptions of many.
The superficial and ineffective treatment that is suggested by the nurse is to pretend not to see color, in effect to see someone else as you see yourself, in such a way that sets yourself as the model. This creation of oneself as the model is evident in the ineffectiveness of the treatment, which just covers the wound like a bandage, allowing the assumptions to fester beneath. The treatment does not extend to the root of the (t)issue, allowing for healing or transformation, but allows us to go on just pretending, remaining as we are, not facing the deep racial divides, and the involvement of all there within.
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