To My White Friends

Dear White Friends,

First, I want to say thank you. Thank you to the people in my life, especially those who are white, who have been brave enough to speak out against racism and injustice over the past year. Seriously, I appreciate you and I understand how much of a sacrifice that has been. Many of you have lost followers, friends, and even business over your activism, but you have stayed strong. Even if all you did was post a black square last June, I appreciate you. I did not personally see the value in participating in the black square posts, but if you did, I saw it and it changed my perspective of you as a person in a positive way. Thank you.

Second, I want you to know that I am exhausted. Watching Ahmaud Arbery get shot in the chest at point blank range with a shot gun and then a few weeks later watching George Floyd lay motionless on the ground was quite a blow to my psyche. I felt helpless and that things would never change, and Black people would never be viewed as equal by much of our population. I had already been writing and speaking out for a few years and it felt like nothing was ever going to be enough to change people’s hearts. I found, however, a lot of hope in America’s response last year. I started writing more, posting more, having tough conversations with friends and family, starting new initiatives at school, and protesting in the streets. I found a lot of new motivation, mostly because a lot of you finally started taking this seriously.
It was a long hard year but a year where a lot of progress happened. Now, as we are getting further into 2021 though, I feel absolutely worn. I try to keep up with Derek Chauvin’s trial, but I almost feel numb to it. As if the emotional wounds have already scabbed over and if I get too invested, I will open everything up all over again. I feel the same towards the shooting this past weekend in Minneapolis and then the video of the young Black army officer in Virginia almost ripped that scab off completely. I am so tired. So tired of these things happening and so tired of fighting with other white people about whether we even have a race problem in this country. I think most Black people who have been heavily involved this past year would tell you the same.

Lastly, I want to invite you to keep fighting. I am not giving up the fight and neither are other Black folk, not by a long shot, but the continued trauma of fighting for people who look like us and our family members to simply not be murdered has begun to take its toll. That is where we need you. Please keep posting, keep fighting, keep calling out injustice when you see it. Do not take mine or your other Black friends’ silence as a sign of complacency or an indication that all is well, rather take it as a sign to do more and to get involved. Take it as an opportunity to give your voice in proxy for those who cannot quite find theirs right now. We need you.

 

Sincerely,

Your (Exhausted) Black Friend

Contemplating Our Blessi-... Whoops, I Think I Mean Privilege

Since our earliest days of dating, Jenny and I have enjoyed house “hunting.” I place hunting in quotations because, lets be real, we’ve been nowhere near affording a house for most of our relationship, and especially not the types of houses we used to tour. Did that stop us from daydreaming about the future? Nope! As undergrads in Tucson we used to get out of church on Sunday and head right up to the Catalina Foothills to scour the nicest neighborhoods for signs and and boxes with arrows directing us to open houses. Still being in dress clothes from church, we found it quite easy to slip into the façade of a well-off attorney and her eye doctor husband searching for their first home. And no, I don’t consider that lying. More of a, uh, dressing for the job you want type of thing. Either way, the realtors usually started off by giving us a suspicious once over, likely noting we were much too young to be who we said, and then hesitantly taking us on a tour of the colossal homes they were attempting to sell. We giggled and awed as we toured showers bigger than our small hybrid, closets bigger than our entire studio apartment, and houses that often looked roughly the same size as the Tucson LDS temple looming in the background. We became so adept at using these personas we’d created while house hunting that we could tour a home worth well over five times the cost of my childhood home, and then casually turn our noses up at it for being ugly. The pinnacle of our house hunting surely came when we found ourselves standing in a home with an asking price north of nine million dollars. We had a lot of fun, and those Sunday afternoons are among the fondest memories I have of our early relationship. We still love “hunting” for houses, but now we drive to slightly more realistic neighborhoods and walk around, discussing and planning a future that isn’t as far away as it once was when we started this tradition in Tucson. Occasionally, when we leave those neighborhoods and return to our small on-campus apartment I find myself pierced with a small twinge of sadness, wishing we were already in that near future we’re always talking about. Those moments pass quickly to be honest, because I love having Jenny as my partner and we really don’t need much to be happy. It’s also easy to recognize how much privilege we have, and that there’s something we possess that many in this world don’t and maybe never will:

Hope for a better financial future.

I’m not talking about hope in the sense of positive thinking or having faith. Anyone could have those things. I’m speaking of the objective reality of poverty lines, generational and otherwise, that are nearly impossible to overcome without outside help. I often think of my time in optometry school as a time of struggle, but when I really think about it there's no struggle at all. We live in a small apartment because we choose to, not out of necessity. Jenny has a good job, we both have college degrees, we have savings, and we both have numerous family members who would be there at a moment’s notice if things really went south. Our times of “struggle” sound laughable when compared to those of families I know from Puebla, Mexico or many of the people struggling right here in the United States to stay afloat. Recognizing that privilege has helped me better understand what the Savior expects of me in regard to His children.

I was reminded of my privilege again yesterday when Jenny and I drove to downtown Phoenix and walked around some neighborhoods there. We passed homeless people both asking for money and sprawled out on the streets, some of them just a block or two away from houses worth half a million dollars or more. I'm sure all of them would love to live through the "struggles" we have right now. It was an interesting sight, one I've seen many times before of course, but I was left much more pensive than usual. I think most people with a Christian background will be familiar with these Bible verses:

34 Then shall the King say unto them on on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world:

35 For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in:

36 Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me.

37 Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungred, and fed thee? or thirsty, and gave thee drink?

38 When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? or naked, and clothed thee?

39 Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee?

40 And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.

The pure religion taught by Jesus here is hard to misinterpret. When we help those in need, we are really helping Christ. The beauty of this doctrine and what it could and should mean for all of humanity cannot be understated. If we all strived to live as Jesus taught, I’m confident many of life’s most trying challenges could be solved.

I do, however, see a potential point of conflict in these verses for anyone afflicted with a tendency for anxiety and religious scrupulosity, as I often am. Exactly how much am I expected to give? How can I know that I’m doing enough? What if I’m poor? I’ve found the following verses from a Book of Mormon prophet named King Benjamin to be quite helpful:

24 And again, I say unto the poor, ye who have not and yet have sufficient, that ye remain from day to day; I mean all you who deny the beggar, because ye have not; I would that ye say in your hearts that: I give not because I have not, but if I had I would give.

25 And now, if ye say this in your hearts ye remain guiltless, otherwise ye are condemned; and your condemnation is just for ye covet that which ye have not received.

26 And now, for the sake of these things which I have spoken unto you—that is, for the sake of retaining a remission of your sins from day to day, that ye may walk guiltless before God—I would that ye should impart of your substance to the poor, every man according to that which he hath, such as feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, visiting the sick and administering to their relief, both spiritually and temporally, according to their wants.

27 And see that all these things are done in wisdom and order; for it is not requisite that a man should run faster than he has strength. And again, it is expedient that he should be diligent, that thereby he might win the prize; therefore, all things must be done in order.

Basically, if you don’t have enough to give, don’t give. There’s no sin in that, as long in your hearts you remain charitable. Additionally, if you do have enough to give you should do it in order and wisdom. You don’t need to give away all your money and it’s okay to buy yourself and your family nice things! At least that’s how I interpret it. I also believe it’s important to help people get on their feet in more ways than just financial assistance, and that helping teach self-reliance principles can be just as life-saving as any other substance we can impart.

A word of caution is important at this point. Growing up in a fairly conservative area and spending the last ten years in a conservative church culture, I’ve occasionally seen judgement and cruelty justified in the name of "wisdom and order." I think on some levels it goes against our human nature to give up what we feel we’ve rightfully earned, otherwise Jesus wouldn’t have needed to teach this principle so much, but we could all do better in this area. We’ve all heard, and perhaps even uttered ourselves, comments like “they’ve brought this upon themselves, I have no sympathy for them” or the less forward but equally judgmental “I would never ask for help from the church or the government.” To those who feel that way about beggars and charity, King Benjamin had this to say:

17 Perhaps thou shalt say: The man has brought upon himself his misery; therefore I will stay my hand, and will not give unto him of my food, nor impart unto him of my substance that he may not suffer, for his punishments are just—

18 But I say unto you, O man, whosoever doeth this the same hath great cause to repent; and except he repenteth of that which he hath done he perisheth forever, and hath no interest in the kingdom of God.

19 For behold, are we not all beggars? Do we not all depend upon the same Being, even God, for all the substance which we have, for both food and raiment, and for gold, and for silver, and for all the riches which we have of every kind?

Any judgement of how or why someone has gotten themselves into a certain predicament should be left to God. He has only commanded us to help where we can. We would also do well to remember that while the old ‘Give a man a fish’ proverb holds some wisdom, it isn’t an actual teaching from Jesus or any scripture at all for that matter. Jesus simply taught us to love our neighbors as we love ourselves, and we could all do a little better at that.

Jenny and I will continue to go on our leisurely strolls through nice neighborhoods for the near future and and someday we'll finally move into one of those neighborhoods (probably not the nine million dollar neighborhood, of course). I hope I can do so, however, while always remembering the privilege and fortune that got me there, and also doing my best to lift up those who haven't been as fortunate as me.