Apologies, Repentance, and Racism in Mixed Company

I had an uncomfortable lunch on Monday.

At first it was because my friends and I were absolutely the only customers in the restaurant. It was 12:30 pm. Where was everyone? Was there something about this place that we didn’t know? Apparently there was, because by the time we had ordered and received our food, the place was packed.  We were all relieved we hadn’t made a horrible choice of restaurants – just in timing.

I was still uncomfortable, though. We had chosen the table in the far corner of the restaurant. Immediately above our heads the television blasted the George Zimmerman trial. We were the only white people in the place. Lots of reasons to be uncomfortable – but my discomfort was because one of my friends asked me over lunch, “Are you still going to go to Paula Deen’s restaurant?”

We collected our money, and one of us went to the window to pay. I’m pretty sure we tipped well. We hadn’t been bad customers, but I felt on the defensive as we wove our way through the tables. I wanted to apologize for something. I wanted to hug each and every person I passed and say, “I’m not a racist. I love you!”  I wanted to have on a t-shirt that said, “I have black friends.” No one in that restaurant knew anything about me, but I felt like they hated me - and that they should.

I felt the same way when the movie, “The Help” was over and I walked out into the hallway. It was one of those times when I was embarrassed to be white.

I made my reservations at Paula’s restaurant several weeks ago when we started planning our vacation, and I’ve been looking forward to the butter ever since. I had some guilt about it, but we made reservations for a bike tour afterwards, and I rationalized that it’s okay to eat poison, if you make plans to pedal it off.

In light of recent events, I am rethinking those reservations again. I still want the buttery goodness, but can’t figure out a way to work off the poison of racism. Is there a fairly simple 2-hour penance tour for that? The terrible truth that started taking hold and made me so uncomfortable at lunch on Monday was this: I’ll probably feel more at home in Lady & Sons than I did at Two Sisters.

We’ll sit around our fried chicken and biscuits, and self-righteously talk about “the issue.”  We’ll dig up stories that show how not-racist we are.  We’ll celebrate increased diversity in our church and our decision to do public school. We’ll talk about how appalled we are by racism. Then we’ll say, “Pass the butter.”

Frankly, I’m a little weary of hearing white people talk among white people about other white people’s racism. I think it’s time for me to climb out of the muck of guilt and awkwardness, and bring this conversation into mixed company. I’m talking about taking a good hard look at myself, and asking the Holy Spirit to show me if there is any wicked or harmful way in me.

What is a racist?

If you ask, “What is a sinner?” the answer is easy. A sinner is someone who thinks sinful thoughts, says sinful words or does sinful things. I’m including sins of omission here, because not doing the right thing is doing the wrong thing. One sin makes a person a sinner. “But if we confess our sins, he is faithful and righteous, forgiving us our sins and cleansing us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1:9).

It would seem to follow then, that a racist is someone who thinks racist thoughts, says racist words or does racist things. I include tolerating racism here, because not doing the right thing is doing the wrong thing. One racist act or thought makes a person a racist. But if we acknowledge our racism, and confess it as sin, God is faithful and righteous, forgiving us our racism and cleansing us from all racism. Maybe, just maybe we can forgive each other, too.

I vividly remember the last racist joke I told.

I would love to be able to tell this story without making myself look bad. But there is no way to do so. Telling that joke and the process through which God brought me to repentance afterward is one of the times in my life that still grieves me.

I was a graduate student at LSU. My world had enlarged, and I was growing in my understanding of racism. I still could not really say that I had a close friend of another race, but I had at least come to realize that a racist joke was not the same thing as an Aggie joke. I really didn’t tell them or laugh at them anymore.

But I wasn’t as enlightened as I thought I was, because something came over me on this day that I remember, and some stupid joke that I can’t even remember now came out of my mouth. One of the other students in the group walked away as I told the joke. I regretted it immediately. I had recently discovered that this fellow student was a believer – one of the only others in our program. I liked her, and wanted to be friends. I respected her, and knew that I had lost her respect by telling that joke.

Fast-forward a few weeks – maybe even a few months.  My colleague had been gracious, and we were becoming friends. One day, she shared that her grandmother had died. I responded with awkward words of comfort. She then shared the horrific details of her grandmother’s murder during a home invasion. There was absolutely nothing to say, so I shut my mouth and just hugged her tightly while she cried.

When I got home that night, I told my husband about it, and he showed me the story about the murder in the paper. It was a horrible story, but the murder itself faded to the background of my self-centered thinking when I noticed a small detail that cut me to the heart.

The woman who had been murdered was a black woman.

My colleague was very light skinned and had freckles – I had never realized that she was African-American.  Shake your head all you want. How I could have been so dumb is not the issue here. Once I realized it, it was pretty obvious – but maybe I was blinded to her race because I needed to learn a hard lesson.

When this colleague who became a friend walked away from my racism that day, it wasn’t as one white Christian woman disappointed in another like I thought. She walked away because her Christian sister had belittled her and her family in the midst of a crowd of unbelievers.

I had told a racist joke in mixed company.

Suddenly, racism was not just white people hating on black people – or vice a versa. It was me saying I thought I was better than my friend. It was me hurting someone who I liked and respected. It was me belittling a sister in Christ.

It was no longer theoretical. It was real. And it was terrible.

I never said anything about it. I mean, let’s face it, she was dealing with something much bigger than my “aha!” moment. I don’t know whether I would have anyway. I mean, really, what would I have said? “I didn’t know you were black.” Do you see how that makes my racism even worse?

The “aha!” moment was not that my friend was of another race. The “aha!” moment was that the race of the people in the group had any bearing on what I said or didn’t say.  The “aha!” moment was that I somehow thought that a racist joke was any more appropriate when told to white people than it was when told to a black woman. It’s not. A racial slur is never appropriate - in any company. The “n-word” is never appropriate – no matter how it is used.

For the believer, racist thoughts, words, and behavior are bitter water produced by a fountain that is supposed to be clean and fresh. They are indications of something fouling the heart that needs to be rooted out and tossed away.

The issue with Paula Deen is not what she did 30 years ago. The issue is the way she excused it in her apology just a few days ago. She doesn’t get it. The issue with me is not what Paula Deen does, or thinks, or says. The issue is what I do, or think, or say. They are signs of what is in my heart. They are signs that I don’t get it.

I hope that I don't lose any friends over this confessional. Please believe me when I say I’m not that person who told that joke 24 years ago any more. I’m also not the person I hope to be 24 years from now. I hope if I've offended anyone with this blog or with any other racist behavior, we can have a conversation about it. Maybe from conversation will come conviction, confession, forgiveness and cleansing.

I shared this story because I really would like to shift the conversation from Paula Deen, George Zimmerman, and the racist slurs associated with recent events. I’d like to talk about you and me. How are we treating each other? How are we thinking about each other? Are we sharing life? Are we loving? Are we seeking to understand first, and then to be understood?

That’s the conversation I want to have. And I hope to have it in mixed company. Maybe over lunch?