Open Letters to White Guys Like Me
(Racism Isn't a Left Versus Right Equation)
A Retired White Cop's Hopeful, Practical, Unique, Incomplete Perspective on Race and Law in the United States.
Letter #1: Why is the guy writing me a letter? Who writes letters anymore?
Letter #2: Since You Came Back, Let's Drink the Hard Stuff.
Letter #3: So, what do you do? Take some steps in the right direction.
An Open Letter to White Guys Like Me.
Letter #3: So, what do you do? Take some steps in the right direction.
One of the fun things about writing these letters has been reading the responses and responding to them. Conversation and civil discourse are two commodities in very short supply. Just the fact that some people read a whole bunch of words instead of a tweet is encouraging to me as a humanoid. I don’t pretend to have the answers, but I do believe there is value in asking the questions and responding to the issues we face as a nation.
I wanted to wrap these letters up by doing two things. First, by sharing a few of the things that shaped and changed my perspective and then sharing some things I’d encourage you to consider doing, regardless of where you stand today. What you do with them is completely up to you. Thanks, in advance, for reading these letters. I know they’ve been too long winded, but I appreciate your indulgence. This one will get away from me quickly too, but I promise you this: it does end eventually.
Turning Points
For me, there were three events that really forced me to stop and think differently about race, racism, justice, law enforcement and the rule of law in the United States. Early in my career, I was confronted with experiences that made me think critically about my role. Being involved in a shooting, and having a friend shot in the line of duty will make you think long and hard about a lot of things. But later in my career, and later in life, three events would have an equally profound impact on my worldview. Collectively, they moved me from an entrenched position of ignorance and indifference on racial issues in the United States to a new place. Their influence rearranged the pieces in my head to engineer a change in my heart.
The first two events were really more observation over a period of years of the relationship between my wife, Michelle and our friend April Thomas. Our families had been friends for a long time, my girls were the same age as their two oldest boys and went from elementary through high school together. We were also in a cult for many years through our kids’ participation in the high school band. I don’t mean to say the we worshipped John Phillip Souza together, but band is definitely a cult full of really neat kids doing amazing things, and we were in it together.
We share a lot in common with the Thomas family; neat but quirky kids; a love for Jesus, band, our city, schools and church; and it was easy to assume based on our commonalities that our experiences and perspectives were the also the same. Michelle and April met for years in a small prayer group of moms who prayed for their kids and the schools they attended. With all that our families shared in common, we were also different. The Thomas family is black, and the Henderson family is white.
Freshman Year
It sounds strange to say, but it took a long time for our family to see beyond what we had in common to recognize how much race impacts our worldview and experiences. We got a glimpse of that during our oldest kids’ freshman year. I mentioned earlier that my daughter, Abby, and Kevin and April’s son, Kevin Jr., were in band together. K.J. has always been the kind of kid, and now young man, who impressed me. He’s consistently demonstrated a kind of quiet leadership, and a seriousness and substance you don’t find too often in teenagers. He’s a genuinely kind young man, a nice guy that you would assume had no natural enemies.
Coming back from an away game on a long bus trip, K.J. was sitting with some of the older kids in his trombone section as they passed a cotton field. As they passed the farm, one of the kids told K.J. that he needed to “start picking that cotton” and then several other kids jumped on board, escalating the racist comments and adding a little more hate by shifting to “back of the bus” jeers and other assorted vicious and mean things before they finally let it go. Of course, the kids chalked it up to “we were just kidding around.” K.J. was silently crushed. We like to pretend that overt racism is dead or declining in our country, that we’ve evolved. That incident was a stark reminder to me that racism is still alive and well, and still being taught in homes across suburbia.
When I heard about the bus incident, I had a pretty typical suburban white guy response. I remember the anger I felt, but I can’t even begin to imagine the damage that can do to a young man’s soul. I wanted to go find those kids and punch them repeatedly until they felt remorse or until they hurt as much as they hurt K.J., but that’s rarely productive. The school handled the situation in a sorta-kinda way, but once the toothpaste is out of the tube, there’s not a lot to do to truly make things right. For me, it forced me to confront some harsh realities. In the suburbs, we like to pretend that racism ended in 1965 with the signing of the Voting Rights Act, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.
July 7
On July 7, 2016, five Dallas Police officers were killed by a gunman while working a protest march in downtown Dallas. I was working that night in the suburbs, far away from the violence, listening to the events unfold on the radio. My wife was terrified to have a husband working patrol with so much uncertainty and a divide in our country that felt as if the fabric of our society was being ripped in two. She reached out to April to try to make sense of the chaos and try to see things from a non-cop wife perspective.
Although they had been friends for years, I think it may have been the first time the two sat down and really talked about race and injustice in the United States. April had started working with a cool grassroots racial reconciliation organization called Be the Bridge, and Michelle started her journey of rethinking much of what she had believed and had been taught. Watching them intentionally sitting down together and having tough conversations about uncomfortable issues was a powerful example to me, still watching from the sidelines, still skeptical, but witnessing the change around me.
Like most white guys from the suburbs, I’m an early adopter of almost all Apple technology, but pretty late to the game when it comes to questioning my worldview. I liked my place in the world. It was comfortable, but kind of like being plugged into The Matrix, it wasn’t reflective of reality outside of suburbia. Seeing Michelle question some long held assumptions, and seeing a relationship deepen instead of fracture over the cultural divide on race, gave me hope and an openness to change.
Help Me Understand
The third major turning point for me and my suburban worldview happened at work in the least likely of circumstances. For over half of my career in law enforcement, I served as a sergeant, a supervisor role for those of you who might not be aware of police organizational charts. You’d have to confirm with the troops I supervised over the years, but I felt like I had three primary obligations as a sergeant: serve the community, take care of my troops, and make tough decisions. I had many shortcomings and deficiencies as a sergeant, but I feel like I got those three obligations right most of the time.
One balmy afternoon, I got a call from dispatch regarding a man that wanted to complain on one of our officers. It was close to the end of a twelve-hour shift, but he was already at the station demanding to speak to a supervisor, and I happened to be at the station, so I took the call. Police shift work means long days, I started at 5 a.m. that morning and was due to be off at 5 p.m., so my primary focus was to get this call over with as quickly as possible and go home and eat. When people complained on our officers, I’ll admit my first impulse was to protect my troops and defend their actions whenever possible. I had no idea who was there to complain, or what they were complaining about, but my gut was empty, my defenses were up, and my body camera was on. I was ready to clear this call and go home. I didn’t know it at the time, but this call was going to be different.
There were two things that immediately changed the trajectory of the call. When I stepped outside of the jail doors to meet the complainant, I noticed he was black and probably about the same age as me, but he was wearing brown low-top Chuck Taylor Converse shoes. I’m a pretty shallow guy with a pretty serious Chuck Taylor addiction and I’d never seen them in brown before, and I wanted a pair. I knew it would be poor form to lead off asking about his shoes, so I sat down on the bench and decided to listen.
Charles proceeded to explain the event that prompted him to make a complaint, instead of interjecting, I just listened. He was angry and felt he had been stopped only because he was a black man walking in a predominantly white neighborhood. The anger, fear and distrust of the police was palpable, but he ended his account with a question that disarmed me entirely. Instead of asking the normal “so, what are you going to do about it,” he asked, “Can you help me understand?” For me, that was revolutionary. We spent the next hour having a deeper conversation about his incident specifically, and race and justice issues generally.
It would take more space than I have available to tell you the whole story, but it was a watershed moment for me as a white suburban cop. Actual conversation is counter-cultural and revolutionary. We ended that conversation with more questions than answers, but we both walked away from it with something deeper and ultimately more significant, understanding. These are going to sound like really small things, but in the bigger picture, I believe they make a difference. Just a tiny bit of understanding opens up your world to see things for what they are. For an aging guy like me, a little understanding made a huge difference. Like the progressive glasses on my nightstand, when I put them on, I can read the small print. I can read the signs ahead. I can see more clearly.
I think Charles left knowing that he had been heard, hopefully that his perspective was valued, and understood a little more about the context of his encounter with law enforcement. I walked away with a better understanding of how my badge and uniform could impact and communicate, especially with people of color, before I ever spoke a word.
One important side note in case you were wondering. I now own three pairs of various shades of brown Chuck Taylor Converse low tops. They are seasonal and can be purchased online.
Take it Personally
Those three events, three conversations; two productive and one destructive, helped shape and influence my worldview personally. I don’t claim to have cornered the market on wisdom or understanding by any stretch of the imagination, so we can start there. The rest of the letter is just a list of things that I think might be helpful for you to consider, my white suburban friends, as you think about your own journey and confront the realities of our culture and shared experience.
I’d encourage you first to take this issue personally. The fabric of our nation is shared but stained. It really doesn’t matter how much of the stain is yours, or precisely when the stain appeared. If we believe that the fabric is worth saving, we have an obligation to do something about it. “They” whoever they are, have never accomplished anything, we don’t even know who they are. You and I are different, we can choose to act. Culture change requires personal responsibility and growth, and something needs to change.
It’s really a personal decision. You can choose to watch the stain grow and the fabric rip, or take the time to really dig in. There are small things that we can each do to make it better, begin to repair the damage, and build something worth saving.
Admission Price is Free... But Costly
We are blessed as a nation to have the freedom to change and to question the status quo. We have freedom on the asset side of the ledger, but there are costs to every decision. Letting go of the comfort and security of our unquestioned worldviews, choosing to question the popular wisdom of polarity might not make you the most popular white guy at the barbecue. You might lose a few friends on Facebook. Those are pretty tiny costs when you think about the potential value of having actual conversations with actual people about things that actually matter, especially when they lead to actual change.
There is another cost I’d encourage you to consider. One of my superpowers is using my words as weapons. Unfortunately, civil discourse requires us to put the slingshots and shanks away and pull out our tools that build instead of destroy. Whether or not you can tell from reading but encouraging civility and non-polarization forced me to pull way back on my own language and natural tendencies in favor of discourse.
It’s much more fun to fire off a few quick shots and walk away than it is to have an actual conversation. But think about the end goal. If everyone in your world already agrees with you, why post something that everyone already agrees with? Those quick shots just breed more group think on both sides of the equation. Words have meaning and words matter. Make yours matter.
First Responder or Bystander?
I’ve already written about this previously, but one decision you can make is whether you want to be a first responder or a bystander. Not everyone is wired to be a first responder, but as a former professional first responder, if you want to continue to be a bystander, please get the hell out of the way. Bystanders react. First responders respond. Bystanders contribute to problems, literally by-standing in the way. First responders provide solutions.
Not all first responders look, dress and think alike; nor should you. When you broaden the context, there’s plenty of room for diversity for first responders. Think of all the types of first responders in the public safety world as a metaphor. There are police officers, firefighters, EMTS, paramedics and emergency telecommunicators; but there are also wrecker drivers, linemen and utility workers who each respond to emergencies. The specific role is not as important as the function. Being a first responder is an approach to a problem by actively engaging in the solution. It’s the opposite of by-standing. This one is actually binary. Choose one.
Embrace Complexity
We exist in a world of tweets, platforms, ad campaigns and news bytes that break the universe into tiny pieces of meaninglessness. The issues we face as a nation are extremely complex. There is nothing sexy or newsworthy about breaking down complex issues and generating solutions. The truth of a matter is rarely as simple and salacious as the headline. It’s time to reject the illusion of simplicity and the falsity of polarity if we really want things to change.
The two most striking examples of complexity that we’re currently dealing with as a society are Covid-19 and racial injustice. Regardless of our opinions and beliefs with respect to either, both have to be addressed as complexities if there is any hope for a solution. Our tendency with both of these issues has been to choose a side and fire shots and holes in the other side and hope that we’re right. That’s wrong.
When the next questionable police shooting happens, or the next corona virus mutates in outer space and falls to earth, we will apply the same prevailing wisdom to the problem that can be found on the back of a shampoo bottle: lather, rinse, repeat. It’s time to admit to ourselves that these are complex problems, and rather than throw up our hands or bury our heads in the sand, embrace the complexity of our problems and respond to them accordingly.
Invest in Questions
One good way to embrace complexity is to start asking questions. It’s easy to start questioning beliefs and opinions that are different than our own, but it’s probably not the wisest investment of our time and energy. Instead, start by questioning your own worldview and perspective. If you really want a challenge, try starting off with the assumption that you might be wrong.
Why you believe is just as important as what you believe. You might find you believe some things simply because you’ve been told or taught, or made unsupported assumptions, or were just being lazy. “Why do I believe...X,Y, or Z?” That’s a great place to start.
The fun really begins on the other side of the equation. Instead of poking holes in your own assumptions about the other side, try asking legitimate questions about views opposite of your own. You should probably start by de-demonizing the other side, whichever side that might be. Ask yourself, “How could a reasonable, moral, thoughtful, intelligent, patriotic person who disagrees with me on X reach their conclusion?” If you find that you can’t figure it out without taking away one or more of those virtues from the question, it’s probably time to go back to the drawing board and re-question your own views a few more times.
Resist Polarity
This is another concept that’s been covered extensively throughout these letters, but important to restate. If your core identity is tied up in “or” instead of “and” then you might be a part of the problem. If your view of the world is Liberal or Conservative, then you’ve probably bought in to one side or the other. Take a look around you. How is that working for us? I’m tired of being lied to by both sides. I’m tired of the vitriol and hate on both sides. I’m tired of seeing the same problems remain unsolved by either side. I’m out. It’s time to open door number three.
Fun Facts About Group Think
Here’s some sweet green grass to chew on while you ponder your views on polarity. Let’s view the last twenty years as The Polar Age. Over the past 20 years, the Republicans have held the White House (…and seriously, could we have been any more racist when we picked the name of the president’s house?) for about 11 of those years, and Democrats have occupied it for about nine years. Almost even. They both had their chance to do something, anything really, but let’s just shoot for something to start with.
What have they accomplished? Our national debt was around 5 trillion dollars in 2000, today it’s 26 trillion. Our nation has spent 20 trillion dollars more than they’ve made in just 20 years. What did we get for that money? Decent health care for white middle class suburban guys and poor people? No. First place in the world-wide super power competition? No. A cure for cancer? No. A better education system? No. A bad ass new space ship? No. Nothing, but oddly enough we support them more fervently on both sides than ever before.
Both the Republican and Democratic leadership have to be laughing one of those evil madman laughs at us right now. We’ve been sheep. Not the sweet natured dumb sheep nibbling on grass in a meadow, but some weird hybrid of angry little sheep that hate the other sheep because some wear donkey t-shirts and the other wear elephant t-shirts. That’s messed up. We’re so busy worrying about the other sheep that we’ve let them fleece the all the sheep, on both sides of the pasture. That’s kind of genius, but its so incredibly wrong.
We need to do one of two things to move forward. Either stop being angry sheep and just enjoy eating the sweet green grass and die happy, or stop being sheep.
Exchange Some Metaphors
We frame so much of our existence in metaphor, mainly because it helps us synthesize information and put in into an understandable context. Metaphor is a useful tool for understanding, but it can also do significant damage when applied carelessly. In the suburbs, we love to frame everything using two metaphors, sports and war, almost exclusively. We love to weirdly mix them up too, viewing the line of scrimmage as a battlefield and inversely view combat zones in terms of yard lines. Business is war and getting us all on the same team and playbook, blah, blah, blah and you get the picture.
The change we need is real, and it wouldn’t hurt to change the metaphors too. The entirety of the political landscape is viewed in these two inadequate metaphors as well. Here is the problem, in both war and sports, the world is binary. Winner or Loser. I love my home team or I hate your team (that actually should be an “and” but I’m trying to make a grammatical style point). For or against. Defense or Offense. None of these concepts work in a civil society on any matters of consequence or complexity. On matters of racial equity and social justice, if we’re all on separate teams; we’re all screwed. Nobody gets the orange slices or the participation trophy. We’re all tied for last place.
We need constructive metaphors to use as a guide. More literally, we need construction metaphors. Think about building a bridge or a skyscraper or really nice chicken coop. If you’re building a museum, it takes a lot of talented and skilled people to take a project from blueprint to reality. The stone masons aren’t working against the plumbers, and the electricians aren’t dead set against the framing crew. And if those kinds of conflicts do exist, then progress is delayed. We need a new metaphor for real progress on any of the issues we face.
What we build metaphorically, however, is equally important as the fact that we are building. We don’t need any more walls between us. Walls are by definition, divisive. So, metaphorically, we need to build something new. There are some good things we can start building together, we’ll talk about my personal favorite, bridges, a little more as we wrap up.
Read Your History, Again
I’m going to display a little ignorance on my part, well, probably a lot of ignorance; but maybe you can learn from it. When I started teaching school, February was my least favorite month of the year. In my fragile little white head, it marked two seasons that I just didn’t get and couldn’t wait to be over with. February was Red Ribbon Month and Black History Month in our district. Being a naturally rebellious type and firmly steeped in my young worldview, I always wanted to replace the “Just Say No” ribbons with “Sometimes Say Maybe” ribbons. That was probably wrong of me, but I still think it was an overly simplistic campaign largely ignored by the stoners and already embraced by the fully compliant.
It took me years to get the importance, purpose and significance of Black History Month. If you want to really get a sense of the depth and breadth of the historic and current impacts of systemic racism, go back and re-read your history. History has always been written from the perspective of the victor, especially in the textbooks of lily-white suburbs of Texas in the 1980’s. The knee jerk reaction for white suburban guys like me to Black History Month has always been the battle cry of “They’re just trying to rewrite the history books!” We meant it as a dismissal and rejection of anything that wasn’t covered in eighth grade.
Historians today aren’t rewriting history. That would take a time machine, and the technology is just not quite there yet. What they are doing is writing the rest of our history, telling the whole story. The parts we don’t want to admit to or acknowledge sometimes. We learn from history, but what we learn from history is predicated on what we are taught about history.
The reality is that the history we were taught was intended to reinforce a very specific worldview. That was a pretty successful strategy, but ultimately predicated on deception. When you only teach half the truth, people absorb the half-truth as the whole truth. Black History Month was a first step in telling the whole truth about our nation. There’s plenty to be proud of, but there’s a whole other story, a true story that you need to understand if you really want to understand your country and precisely where you fit in the narrative.
Egypt and the Sanhedrin
Learning where you fit in the narrative is a huge part of the solution. I mentioned in my first letter that my family attended a big white church in the suburbs. I absolutely believe that the best hope for change in our society is Jesus. Notice, I didn’t say Evangelical Christians or a particular church or a single denomination, just Jesus. The sacrificial love of Jesus, loving others through him, like him can change hearts and change the world. Maybe I’m just dumb and superstitious, but all of my existential pursuits inevitably have led back to the same eternal solution. His love is counter intuitive and counter cultural. If we live out the love of Jesus, there is hope.
The civil rights movement was born of the same hope I find in Jesus. Here in the suburbs, however, I wonder if we haven’t replaced him with something much more comfortable and palatable. We’re supposed to be salt and light, but I think we may have switched the salt for sugar and turned off the lights when the world came looking for solutions. In churches across the United States, we love to think that we are a new Israel, but if you look at our historical record on race and equality, do we look more like Egypt?
Or fast forward to Jesus’ time in history, do our actions as a church and body of believers look more like Christ or the Sanhedrin?
The good news is the good news. We are fallible, he is consistent and true. But if you really want to examine your worldview and find truth, even tough questions like faith and our role as believers have to be on the examination table. For me, this has increased my faith and hope in Jesus even when I’m disappointed by the response of the church. We are a series of endless paradoxes here in suburbia, sometimes we get so wrapped up in the First Amendment that we forget the second greatest of all the commandments, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” It begs an important question.
Faith Informed Politics
Does your faith inform your politics, or do your politics inform your faith? Here in the suburbs, it seems like we wrap the two together so closely that we can’t separate them, which causes us to make huge leaps of political faith unsupported by an actual platform. It’s been important to me to make sure I get those two things in order. The more I read from the New Testament, the less and less likely it seems that Jesus is going to be voting a straight ticket in November, but it’s always surprising to see how many people seem to think their party is somehow the only one aligned with the true will of God.
Here’s a fun test that can help you figure out just how tightly you may have wound your politics and faith together. Do you remember the story in the bible where Jesus met the Samaritan woman at the well? Do you remember how he told her to go back to Samaria where she came from, and how his Jerusalem First campaign was going to Make Israel Great Again? Do you remember his plans, in the Book of Matthew to rebuild the wall around Jerusalem? “It’s going to be a great wall, a tremendous wall.” Is that consistent with your faith or just your politics or none of the above? Your blood pressure at the moment, and your continued reading might be good indicators one way or the other.
Wow, you’re still reading. O.K., that was just a bit of using my words as weapons. I kind of apologize, but here’s where you can be the bigger person. I thought the last few paragraphs might be enough to make you quit. I’m glad you’re still here even if you’re angry. If it’s the right kind of anger, use it wisely.
Have Some Friends
If you’re like me, a generic white middle-aged guy from the suburbs, I want to encourage you to do another thing that can actually make a difference in the world around you but read carefully. I want you to have some friends. Notice I didn’t say friends of color or friends who look different than you. That would be great and everything but try it out on someone like you first. We suck at having friends as white guys. We have co-workers, we have neighbors, we know of some other dudes at church, we know our wife’s friend’s husbands and other dads from our kid’s activities; but very few friends.
This is a challenge to me as well as you. Have some friends who you actually talk to about meaningful things. Friends who know you, friends who challenge you and call you out when you’re wrong... I would probably be absolutely happy to go the rest of my life with the four or five people I’d truly consider a friend like I’ve described. I can easily spend the rest of my time on my Harley or watching grass grow or eating ice cream, but if I want to influence the world in any small way, that influence is likely to be limited to my capacity to actually be a friend to someone.
As much as I hate to admit it, if I have any desire to see the world change or be a friend to others who are unlike me, then I’ve got some work to do first.
Change Your Corner
If you’re like me, our lives will probably not have a footnote in a history book. I’m perfectly OK with that, because some of those guys are terrible as it turns out. If fifty people read this letter and it makes one person think just a little bit differently, that’s a win. The important thing to remember is that none of us have to change the world or find the solution to all of the problems we face as a society. No one is going to do that alone.
You and I can do one thing that makes a difference. We can change our corner of the world. We can speak up and speak out. We can have one awkward conversation and then another. We can broaden our perspective and see people differently. We can influence our families and our friends by our example, and we can learn from our mistakes and failures. We can forgive others and seek forgiveness. These are tiny, insignificant things in the grand scheme of the universe, but by leaning in instead of pulling back, our little corner of the world can influence another, and another. I’m pretty bad at geometry, but if you change enough corners you start changing the shape.
I am Anti-Racist or I Am Not a Racist
There are a couple of other things I’d urge you to consider about racism in our society and our response as suburban white guys. We have a lot of screwed up thoughts and notions about liberty and freedom here in the suburbs. We love to say things like, “You are free to believe whatever you want, this is America.” There’s a degree of truth to that, but we tend to use it to avoid conflict as a give up technique or a defensive excuse to maintain some flaws in our own thought processes.
Here’s a crazy thought for you. Right and wrong exist. The laws of physics exist. It’s OK to acknowledge gravity as a force. It’s OK to acknowledge equality and freedom as virtues and values. It’s equally important to denounce and reject things that are antithetical to the truths we hold as self-evident, if we believe in them ourselves.
We never think twice about denouncing or rejecting child sex trafficking because it’s objectively unequivocally wrong. Racism, both individual and institutional, need to go into this category if any of the values and virtues we generally agree on have any meaning at all.
It’s not enough to say, “I’m not a racist.” That leaves the door open for the acceptance and tacit validation of racism in others. It would be tantamount to saying, “Well, I personally don’t support child sex trafficking, but this is America, you can think what you want.” I’d urge you to consider adopting some new language, anti-racist, over simply not being a racist yourself. Word have meaning. Your words matter. Choose them carefully and intentionally.
Be the Bridge
If you read books and you want some insight from a different perspective, I’ve got one for you to pick up. If you’re tired of hearing from a middle-aged white guy, and want to move from a diet of sweetened condensed milk to actual meat as your food for thought go buy a copy of “Be The Bridge: Pursuing God’s Heart for Racial Reconciliation” by Latasha Morrison.
It will challenge you. It will provoke you. But most importantly, if you’re open to it, it can change you. It also lays out an extremely practical path for changing the world around you. We need to be more about building bridges than choosing sides or holding on to a flawed and false view of the world. Some of the things I’ve written here might have made you angry, but Morrison will make you think, and that’s a great place to start.
Do Something: Be a Bridge
I promised you that the letter would eventually end, and we’re just about there. It might be funny to stop reading now right before the end. It’s time to raise our expectations and demand more. That starts internally somewhere in our soul and moves outward. Before we can expect more from others, or the media or our politicians, we have to start with the kind of fat white guy in the mirror.
Surely if you’ve read this far, you get the sense that something is deeply wrong in our society and something needs to change. If you have that idea rolling around in your head, respond. Do something. You can impact your corner of the world by being a bridge. In my first letter, I told you I’d buy you a beer and we could talk if what I’m writing upset your apple cart too much. The offer still stands. But this stuff is all worthless if it stays inside your head, or just remains contained in your comfortable suburban neighborhood.
Take the next step. Engage with people who look different than you. Move it from a warm fuzzy conceptual feeling to an actual conversation with another image bearer of the creator of the universe. Use a local craft brew as an excuse to start the conversation if that helps. That’s a very generic white thing to do, but hey, you’re a white dude from the suburbs. No one expects much out of us. Just start somewhere.
Thanks for reading, all the way to here...
Shawn Henderson
shawn@beecivilbalm.com
Letter #3: So, what do you do? Take some steps in the right direction.
One of the fun things about writing these letters has been reading the responses and responding to them. Conversation and civil discourse are two commodities in very short supply. Just the fact that some people read a whole bunch of words instead of a tweet is encouraging to me as a humanoid. I don’t pretend to have the answers, but I do believe there is value in asking the questions and responding to the issues we face as a nation.
I wanted to wrap these letters up by doing two things. First, by sharing a few of the things that shaped and changed my perspective and then sharing some things I’d encourage you to consider doing, regardless of where you stand today. What you do with them is completely up to you. Thanks, in advance, for reading these letters. I know they’ve been too long winded, but I appreciate your indulgence. This one will get away from me quickly too, but I promise you this: it does end eventually.
Turning Points
For me, there were three events that really forced me to stop and think differently about race, racism, justice, law enforcement and the rule of law in the United States. Early in my career, I was confronted with experiences that made me think critically about my role. Being involved in a shooting, and having a friend shot in the line of duty will make you think long and hard about a lot of things. But later in my career, and later in life, three events would have an equally profound impact on my worldview. Collectively, they moved me from an entrenched position of ignorance and indifference on racial issues in the United States to a new place. Their influence rearranged the pieces in my head to engineer a change in my heart.
The first two events were really more observation over a period of years of the relationship between my wife, Michelle and our friend April Thomas. Our families had been friends for a long time, my girls were the same age as their two oldest boys and went from elementary through high school together. We were also in a cult for many years through our kids’ participation in the high school band. I don’t mean to say the we worshipped John Phillip Souza together, but band is definitely a cult full of really neat kids doing amazing things, and we were in it together.
We share a lot in common with the Thomas family; neat but quirky kids; a love for Jesus, band, our city, schools and church; and it was easy to assume based on our commonalities that our experiences and perspectives were the also the same. Michelle and April met for years in a small prayer group of moms who prayed for their kids and the schools they attended. With all that our families shared in common, we were also different. The Thomas family is black, and the Henderson family is white.
Freshman Year
It sounds strange to say, but it took a long time for our family to see beyond what we had in common to recognize how much race impacts our worldview and experiences. We got a glimpse of that during our oldest kids’ freshman year. I mentioned earlier that my daughter, Abby, and Kevin and April’s son, Kevin Jr., were in band together. K.J. has always been the kind of kid, and now young man, who impressed me. He’s consistently demonstrated a kind of quiet leadership, and a seriousness and substance you don’t find too often in teenagers. He’s a genuinely kind young man, a nice guy that you would assume had no natural enemies.
Coming back from an away game on a long bus trip, K.J. was sitting with some of the older kids in his trombone section as they passed a cotton field. As they passed the farm, one of the kids told K.J. that he needed to “start picking that cotton” and then several other kids jumped on board, escalating the racist comments and adding a little more hate by shifting to “back of the bus” jeers and other assorted vicious and mean things before they finally let it go. Of course, the kids chalked it up to “we were just kidding around.” K.J. was silently crushed. We like to pretend that overt racism is dead or declining in our country, that we’ve evolved. That incident was a stark reminder to me that racism is still alive and well, and still being taught in homes across suburbia.
When I heard about the bus incident, I had a pretty typical suburban white guy response. I remember the anger I felt, but I can’t even begin to imagine the damage that can do to a young man’s soul. I wanted to go find those kids and punch them repeatedly until they felt remorse or until they hurt as much as they hurt K.J., but that’s rarely productive. The school handled the situation in a sorta-kinda way, but once the toothpaste is out of the tube, there’s not a lot to do to truly make things right. For me, it forced me to confront some harsh realities. In the suburbs, we like to pretend that racism ended in 1965 with the signing of the Voting Rights Act, but that couldn’t be further from the truth.
July 7
On July 7, 2016, five Dallas Police officers were killed by a gunman while working a protest march in downtown Dallas. I was working that night in the suburbs, far away from the violence, listening to the events unfold on the radio. My wife was terrified to have a husband working patrol with so much uncertainty and a divide in our country that felt as if the fabric of our society was being ripped in two. She reached out to April to try to make sense of the chaos and try to see things from a non-cop wife perspective.
Although they had been friends for years, I think it may have been the first time the two sat down and really talked about race and injustice in the United States. April had started working with a cool grassroots racial reconciliation organization called Be the Bridge, and Michelle started her journey of rethinking much of what she had believed and had been taught. Watching them intentionally sitting down together and having tough conversations about uncomfortable issues was a powerful example to me, still watching from the sidelines, still skeptical, but witnessing the change around me.
Like most white guys from the suburbs, I’m an early adopter of almost all Apple technology, but pretty late to the game when it comes to questioning my worldview. I liked my place in the world. It was comfortable, but kind of like being plugged into The Matrix, it wasn’t reflective of reality outside of suburbia. Seeing Michelle question some long held assumptions, and seeing a relationship deepen instead of fracture over the cultural divide on race, gave me hope and an openness to change.
Help Me Understand
The third major turning point for me and my suburban worldview happened at work in the least likely of circumstances. For over half of my career in law enforcement, I served as a sergeant, a supervisor role for those of you who might not be aware of police organizational charts. You’d have to confirm with the troops I supervised over the years, but I felt like I had three primary obligations as a sergeant: serve the community, take care of my troops, and make tough decisions. I had many shortcomings and deficiencies as a sergeant, but I feel like I got those three obligations right most of the time.
One balmy afternoon, I got a call from dispatch regarding a man that wanted to complain on one of our officers. It was close to the end of a twelve-hour shift, but he was already at the station demanding to speak to a supervisor, and I happened to be at the station, so I took the call. Police shift work means long days, I started at 5 a.m. that morning and was due to be off at 5 p.m., so my primary focus was to get this call over with as quickly as possible and go home and eat. When people complained on our officers, I’ll admit my first impulse was to protect my troops and defend their actions whenever possible. I had no idea who was there to complain, or what they were complaining about, but my gut was empty, my defenses were up, and my body camera was on. I was ready to clear this call and go home. I didn’t know it at the time, but this call was going to be different.
There were two things that immediately changed the trajectory of the call. When I stepped outside of the jail doors to meet the complainant, I noticed he was black and probably about the same age as me, but he was wearing brown low-top Chuck Taylor Converse shoes. I’m a pretty shallow guy with a pretty serious Chuck Taylor addiction and I’d never seen them in brown before, and I wanted a pair. I knew it would be poor form to lead off asking about his shoes, so I sat down on the bench and decided to listen.
Charles proceeded to explain the event that prompted him to make a complaint, instead of interjecting, I just listened. He was angry and felt he had been stopped only because he was a black man walking in a predominantly white neighborhood. The anger, fear and distrust of the police was palpable, but he ended his account with a question that disarmed me entirely. Instead of asking the normal “so, what are you going to do about it,” he asked, “Can you help me understand?” For me, that was revolutionary. We spent the next hour having a deeper conversation about his incident specifically, and race and justice issues generally.
It would take more space than I have available to tell you the whole story, but it was a watershed moment for me as a white suburban cop. Actual conversation is counter-cultural and revolutionary. We ended that conversation with more questions than answers, but we both walked away from it with something deeper and ultimately more significant, understanding. These are going to sound like really small things, but in the bigger picture, I believe they make a difference. Just a tiny bit of understanding opens up your world to see things for what they are. For an aging guy like me, a little understanding made a huge difference. Like the progressive glasses on my nightstand, when I put them on, I can read the small print. I can read the signs ahead. I can see more clearly.
I think Charles left knowing that he had been heard, hopefully that his perspective was valued, and understood a little more about the context of his encounter with law enforcement. I walked away with a better understanding of how my badge and uniform could impact and communicate, especially with people of color, before I ever spoke a word.
One important side note in case you were wondering. I now own three pairs of various shades of brown Chuck Taylor Converse low tops. They are seasonal and can be purchased online.
Take it Personally
Those three events, three conversations; two productive and one destructive, helped shape and influence my worldview personally. I don’t claim to have cornered the market on wisdom or understanding by any stretch of the imagination, so we can start there. The rest of the letter is just a list of things that I think might be helpful for you to consider, my white suburban friends, as you think about your own journey and confront the realities of our culture and shared experience.
I’d encourage you first to take this issue personally. The fabric of our nation is shared but stained. It really doesn’t matter how much of the stain is yours, or precisely when the stain appeared. If we believe that the fabric is worth saving, we have an obligation to do something about it. “They” whoever they are, have never accomplished anything, we don’t even know who they are. You and I are different, we can choose to act. Culture change requires personal responsibility and growth, and something needs to change.
It’s really a personal decision. You can choose to watch the stain grow and the fabric rip, or take the time to really dig in. There are small things that we can each do to make it better, begin to repair the damage, and build something worth saving.
Admission Price is Free... But Costly
We are blessed as a nation to have the freedom to change and to question the status quo. We have freedom on the asset side of the ledger, but there are costs to every decision. Letting go of the comfort and security of our unquestioned worldviews, choosing to question the popular wisdom of polarity might not make you the most popular white guy at the barbecue. You might lose a few friends on Facebook. Those are pretty tiny costs when you think about the potential value of having actual conversations with actual people about things that actually matter, especially when they lead to actual change.
There is another cost I’d encourage you to consider. One of my superpowers is using my words as weapons. Unfortunately, civil discourse requires us to put the slingshots and shanks away and pull out our tools that build instead of destroy. Whether or not you can tell from reading but encouraging civility and non-polarization forced me to pull way back on my own language and natural tendencies in favor of discourse.
It’s much more fun to fire off a few quick shots and walk away than it is to have an actual conversation. But think about the end goal. If everyone in your world already agrees with you, why post something that everyone already agrees with? Those quick shots just breed more group think on both sides of the equation. Words have meaning and words matter. Make yours matter.
First Responder or Bystander?
I’ve already written about this previously, but one decision you can make is whether you want to be a first responder or a bystander. Not everyone is wired to be a first responder, but as a former professional first responder, if you want to continue to be a bystander, please get the hell out of the way. Bystanders react. First responders respond. Bystanders contribute to problems, literally by-standing in the way. First responders provide solutions.
Not all first responders look, dress and think alike; nor should you. When you broaden the context, there’s plenty of room for diversity for first responders. Think of all the types of first responders in the public safety world as a metaphor. There are police officers, firefighters, EMTS, paramedics and emergency telecommunicators; but there are also wrecker drivers, linemen and utility workers who each respond to emergencies. The specific role is not as important as the function. Being a first responder is an approach to a problem by actively engaging in the solution. It’s the opposite of by-standing. This one is actually binary. Choose one.
Embrace Complexity
We exist in a world of tweets, platforms, ad campaigns and news bytes that break the universe into tiny pieces of meaninglessness. The issues we face as a nation are extremely complex. There is nothing sexy or newsworthy about breaking down complex issues and generating solutions. The truth of a matter is rarely as simple and salacious as the headline. It’s time to reject the illusion of simplicity and the falsity of polarity if we really want things to change.
The two most striking examples of complexity that we’re currently dealing with as a society are Covid-19 and racial injustice. Regardless of our opinions and beliefs with respect to either, both have to be addressed as complexities if there is any hope for a solution. Our tendency with both of these issues has been to choose a side and fire shots and holes in the other side and hope that we’re right. That’s wrong.
When the next questionable police shooting happens, or the next corona virus mutates in outer space and falls to earth, we will apply the same prevailing wisdom to the problem that can be found on the back of a shampoo bottle: lather, rinse, repeat. It’s time to admit to ourselves that these are complex problems, and rather than throw up our hands or bury our heads in the sand, embrace the complexity of our problems and respond to them accordingly.
Invest in Questions
One good way to embrace complexity is to start asking questions. It’s easy to start questioning beliefs and opinions that are different than our own, but it’s probably not the wisest investment of our time and energy. Instead, start by questioning your own worldview and perspective. If you really want a challenge, try starting off with the assumption that you might be wrong.
Why you believe is just as important as what you believe. You might find you believe some things simply because you’ve been told or taught, or made unsupported assumptions, or were just being lazy. “Why do I believe...X,Y, or Z?” That’s a great place to start.
The fun really begins on the other side of the equation. Instead of poking holes in your own assumptions about the other side, try asking legitimate questions about views opposite of your own. You should probably start by de-demonizing the other side, whichever side that might be. Ask yourself, “How could a reasonable, moral, thoughtful, intelligent, patriotic person who disagrees with me on X reach their conclusion?” If you find that you can’t figure it out without taking away one or more of those virtues from the question, it’s probably time to go back to the drawing board and re-question your own views a few more times.
Resist Polarity
This is another concept that’s been covered extensively throughout these letters, but important to restate. If your core identity is tied up in “or” instead of “and” then you might be a part of the problem. If your view of the world is Liberal or Conservative, then you’ve probably bought in to one side or the other. Take a look around you. How is that working for us? I’m tired of being lied to by both sides. I’m tired of the vitriol and hate on both sides. I’m tired of seeing the same problems remain unsolved by either side. I’m out. It’s time to open door number three.
Fun Facts About Group Think
Here’s some sweet green grass to chew on while you ponder your views on polarity. Let’s view the last twenty years as The Polar Age. Over the past 20 years, the Republicans have held the White House (…and seriously, could we have been any more racist when we picked the name of the president’s house?) for about 11 of those years, and Democrats have occupied it for about nine years. Almost even. They both had their chance to do something, anything really, but let’s just shoot for something to start with.
What have they accomplished? Our national debt was around 5 trillion dollars in 2000, today it’s 26 trillion. Our nation has spent 20 trillion dollars more than they’ve made in just 20 years. What did we get for that money? Decent health care for white middle class suburban guys and poor people? No. First place in the world-wide super power competition? No. A cure for cancer? No. A better education system? No. A bad ass new space ship? No. Nothing, but oddly enough we support them more fervently on both sides than ever before.
Both the Republican and Democratic leadership have to be laughing one of those evil madman laughs at us right now. We’ve been sheep. Not the sweet natured dumb sheep nibbling on grass in a meadow, but some weird hybrid of angry little sheep that hate the other sheep because some wear donkey t-shirts and the other wear elephant t-shirts. That’s messed up. We’re so busy worrying about the other sheep that we’ve let them fleece the all the sheep, on both sides of the pasture. That’s kind of genius, but its so incredibly wrong.
We need to do one of two things to move forward. Either stop being angry sheep and just enjoy eating the sweet green grass and die happy, or stop being sheep.
Exchange Some Metaphors
We frame so much of our existence in metaphor, mainly because it helps us synthesize information and put in into an understandable context. Metaphor is a useful tool for understanding, but it can also do significant damage when applied carelessly. In the suburbs, we love to frame everything using two metaphors, sports and war, almost exclusively. We love to weirdly mix them up too, viewing the line of scrimmage as a battlefield and inversely view combat zones in terms of yard lines. Business is war and getting us all on the same team and playbook, blah, blah, blah and you get the picture.
The change we need is real, and it wouldn’t hurt to change the metaphors too. The entirety of the political landscape is viewed in these two inadequate metaphors as well. Here is the problem, in both war and sports, the world is binary. Winner or Loser. I love my home team or I hate your team (that actually should be an “and” but I’m trying to make a grammatical style point). For or against. Defense or Offense. None of these concepts work in a civil society on any matters of consequence or complexity. On matters of racial equity and social justice, if we’re all on separate teams; we’re all screwed. Nobody gets the orange slices or the participation trophy. We’re all tied for last place.
We need constructive metaphors to use as a guide. More literally, we need construction metaphors. Think about building a bridge or a skyscraper or really nice chicken coop. If you’re building a museum, it takes a lot of talented and skilled people to take a project from blueprint to reality. The stone masons aren’t working against the plumbers, and the electricians aren’t dead set against the framing crew. And if those kinds of conflicts do exist, then progress is delayed. We need a new metaphor for real progress on any of the issues we face.
What we build metaphorically, however, is equally important as the fact that we are building. We don’t need any more walls between us. Walls are by definition, divisive. So, metaphorically, we need to build something new. There are some good things we can start building together, we’ll talk about my personal favorite, bridges, a little more as we wrap up.
Read Your History, Again
I’m going to display a little ignorance on my part, well, probably a lot of ignorance; but maybe you can learn from it. When I started teaching school, February was my least favorite month of the year. In my fragile little white head, it marked two seasons that I just didn’t get and couldn’t wait to be over with. February was Red Ribbon Month and Black History Month in our district. Being a naturally rebellious type and firmly steeped in my young worldview, I always wanted to replace the “Just Say No” ribbons with “Sometimes Say Maybe” ribbons. That was probably wrong of me, but I still think it was an overly simplistic campaign largely ignored by the stoners and already embraced by the fully compliant.
It took me years to get the importance, purpose and significance of Black History Month. If you want to really get a sense of the depth and breadth of the historic and current impacts of systemic racism, go back and re-read your history. History has always been written from the perspective of the victor, especially in the textbooks of lily-white suburbs of Texas in the 1980’s. The knee jerk reaction for white suburban guys like me to Black History Month has always been the battle cry of “They’re just trying to rewrite the history books!” We meant it as a dismissal and rejection of anything that wasn’t covered in eighth grade.
Historians today aren’t rewriting history. That would take a time machine, and the technology is just not quite there yet. What they are doing is writing the rest of our history, telling the whole story. The parts we don’t want to admit to or acknowledge sometimes. We learn from history, but what we learn from history is predicated on what we are taught about history.
The reality is that the history we were taught was intended to reinforce a very specific worldview. That was a pretty successful strategy, but ultimately predicated on deception. When you only teach half the truth, people absorb the half-truth as the whole truth. Black History Month was a first step in telling the whole truth about our nation. There’s plenty to be proud of, but there’s a whole other story, a true story that you need to understand if you really want to understand your country and precisely where you fit in the narrative.
Egypt and the Sanhedrin
Learning where you fit in the narrative is a huge part of the solution. I mentioned in my first letter that my family attended a big white church in the suburbs. I absolutely believe that the best hope for change in our society is Jesus. Notice, I didn’t say Evangelical Christians or a particular church or a single denomination, just Jesus. The sacrificial love of Jesus, loving others through him, like him can change hearts and change the world. Maybe I’m just dumb and superstitious, but all of my existential pursuits inevitably have led back to the same eternal solution. His love is counter intuitive and counter cultural. If we live out the love of Jesus, there is hope.
The civil rights movement was born of the same hope I find in Jesus. Here in the suburbs, however, I wonder if we haven’t replaced him with something much more comfortable and palatable. We’re supposed to be salt and light, but I think we may have switched the salt for sugar and turned off the lights when the world came looking for solutions. In churches across the United States, we love to think that we are a new Israel, but if you look at our historical record on race and equality, do we look more like Egypt?
Or fast forward to Jesus’ time in history, do our actions as a church and body of believers look more like Christ or the Sanhedrin?
The good news is the good news. We are fallible, he is consistent and true. But if you really want to examine your worldview and find truth, even tough questions like faith and our role as believers have to be on the examination table. For me, this has increased my faith and hope in Jesus even when I’m disappointed by the response of the church. We are a series of endless paradoxes here in suburbia, sometimes we get so wrapped up in the First Amendment that we forget the second greatest of all the commandments, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” It begs an important question.
Faith Informed Politics
Does your faith inform your politics, or do your politics inform your faith? Here in the suburbs, it seems like we wrap the two together so closely that we can’t separate them, which causes us to make huge leaps of political faith unsupported by an actual platform. It’s been important to me to make sure I get those two things in order. The more I read from the New Testament, the less and less likely it seems that Jesus is going to be voting a straight ticket in November, but it’s always surprising to see how many people seem to think their party is somehow the only one aligned with the true will of God.
Here’s a fun test that can help you figure out just how tightly you may have wound your politics and faith together. Do you remember the story in the bible where Jesus met the Samaritan woman at the well? Do you remember how he told her to go back to Samaria where she came from, and how his Jerusalem First campaign was going to Make Israel Great Again? Do you remember his plans, in the Book of Matthew to rebuild the wall around Jerusalem? “It’s going to be a great wall, a tremendous wall.” Is that consistent with your faith or just your politics or none of the above? Your blood pressure at the moment, and your continued reading might be good indicators one way or the other.
Wow, you’re still reading. O.K., that was just a bit of using my words as weapons. I kind of apologize, but here’s where you can be the bigger person. I thought the last few paragraphs might be enough to make you quit. I’m glad you’re still here even if you’re angry. If it’s the right kind of anger, use it wisely.
Have Some Friends
If you’re like me, a generic white middle-aged guy from the suburbs, I want to encourage you to do another thing that can actually make a difference in the world around you but read carefully. I want you to have some friends. Notice I didn’t say friends of color or friends who look different than you. That would be great and everything but try it out on someone like you first. We suck at having friends as white guys. We have co-workers, we have neighbors, we know of some other dudes at church, we know our wife’s friend’s husbands and other dads from our kid’s activities; but very few friends.
This is a challenge to me as well as you. Have some friends who you actually talk to about meaningful things. Friends who know you, friends who challenge you and call you out when you’re wrong... I would probably be absolutely happy to go the rest of my life with the four or five people I’d truly consider a friend like I’ve described. I can easily spend the rest of my time on my Harley or watching grass grow or eating ice cream, but if I want to influence the world in any small way, that influence is likely to be limited to my capacity to actually be a friend to someone.
As much as I hate to admit it, if I have any desire to see the world change or be a friend to others who are unlike me, then I’ve got some work to do first.
Change Your Corner
If you’re like me, our lives will probably not have a footnote in a history book. I’m perfectly OK with that, because some of those guys are terrible as it turns out. If fifty people read this letter and it makes one person think just a little bit differently, that’s a win. The important thing to remember is that none of us have to change the world or find the solution to all of the problems we face as a society. No one is going to do that alone.
You and I can do one thing that makes a difference. We can change our corner of the world. We can speak up and speak out. We can have one awkward conversation and then another. We can broaden our perspective and see people differently. We can influence our families and our friends by our example, and we can learn from our mistakes and failures. We can forgive others and seek forgiveness. These are tiny, insignificant things in the grand scheme of the universe, but by leaning in instead of pulling back, our little corner of the world can influence another, and another. I’m pretty bad at geometry, but if you change enough corners you start changing the shape.
I am Anti-Racist or I Am Not a Racist
There are a couple of other things I’d urge you to consider about racism in our society and our response as suburban white guys. We have a lot of screwed up thoughts and notions about liberty and freedom here in the suburbs. We love to say things like, “You are free to believe whatever you want, this is America.” There’s a degree of truth to that, but we tend to use it to avoid conflict as a give up technique or a defensive excuse to maintain some flaws in our own thought processes.
Here’s a crazy thought for you. Right and wrong exist. The laws of physics exist. It’s OK to acknowledge gravity as a force. It’s OK to acknowledge equality and freedom as virtues and values. It’s equally important to denounce and reject things that are antithetical to the truths we hold as self-evident, if we believe in them ourselves.
We never think twice about denouncing or rejecting child sex trafficking because it’s objectively unequivocally wrong. Racism, both individual and institutional, need to go into this category if any of the values and virtues we generally agree on have any meaning at all.
It’s not enough to say, “I’m not a racist.” That leaves the door open for the acceptance and tacit validation of racism in others. It would be tantamount to saying, “Well, I personally don’t support child sex trafficking, but this is America, you can think what you want.” I’d urge you to consider adopting some new language, anti-racist, over simply not being a racist yourself. Word have meaning. Your words matter. Choose them carefully and intentionally.
Be the Bridge
If you read books and you want some insight from a different perspective, I’ve got one for you to pick up. If you’re tired of hearing from a middle-aged white guy, and want to move from a diet of sweetened condensed milk to actual meat as your food for thought go buy a copy of “Be The Bridge: Pursuing God’s Heart for Racial Reconciliation” by Latasha Morrison.
It will challenge you. It will provoke you. But most importantly, if you’re open to it, it can change you. It also lays out an extremely practical path for changing the world around you. We need to be more about building bridges than choosing sides or holding on to a flawed and false view of the world. Some of the things I’ve written here might have made you angry, but Morrison will make you think, and that’s a great place to start.
Do Something: Be a Bridge
I promised you that the letter would eventually end, and we’re just about there. It might be funny to stop reading now right before the end. It’s time to raise our expectations and demand more. That starts internally somewhere in our soul and moves outward. Before we can expect more from others, or the media or our politicians, we have to start with the kind of fat white guy in the mirror.
Surely if you’ve read this far, you get the sense that something is deeply wrong in our society and something needs to change. If you have that idea rolling around in your head, respond. Do something. You can impact your corner of the world by being a bridge. In my first letter, I told you I’d buy you a beer and we could talk if what I’m writing upset your apple cart too much. The offer still stands. But this stuff is all worthless if it stays inside your head, or just remains contained in your comfortable suburban neighborhood.
Take the next step. Engage with people who look different than you. Move it from a warm fuzzy conceptual feeling to an actual conversation with another image bearer of the creator of the universe. Use a local craft brew as an excuse to start the conversation if that helps. That’s a very generic white thing to do, but hey, you’re a white dude from the suburbs. No one expects much out of us. Just start somewhere.
Thanks for reading, all the way to here...
Shawn Henderson
shawn@beecivilbalm.com