No Neutrality
By CJ Kirkland
Photo: Andrea Morales at the Lorraine Motel, Memphis Tennessee
50th annual commemoration of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s assassination
50th annual commemoration of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s assassination
Please, bear with me as I share a few short, personal stories to illustrate a point that will come thereafter.
Born to an Irish Italian American mother and Bahamian father, when I immigrated to the United States from the Bahamas in high school, it didn’t take long before the insults by fellow classmates began. I didn’t take offence to the seemingly innocent questions such as, “Why do you pronounce your words that way?” and “Did you climb coconut trees growing up?” They were simply preambles to the obvious that followed, especially once it was realized that I did not discriminate on the basis of race in regard to whom I would befriend. Oreo. White Girl. Sellout. Wannabe. My peers didn’t discriminate either: the insults were hurled by Black and white classmates alike.
I’ll skip ahead through my years as an undergraduate and graduate student, during which I had the great fortune of meeting lifelong friends and mentors who helped me see the world through different lenses. They helped me understand the difference between empathy and sympathy and taught me the importance of accountability—at all times—to a Higher Power, which for me, as a Christian, is the Triune God.
Sunny California became my home for many years after I completed my Master’s in International Relations. My thesis was on the dissolution of the USSR (Union of Soviet Socialist Republics), which I find quite coincidental given the current state of global affairs. While living in Los Angeles, the best thing that happened to me was meeting my now-husband. The second-best thing that happened was the formation of my extremely diverse group of friends, who continued to help me grow in ways that were uncomfortable, yet necessary. This growth also influenced my choices, which would, at times, surprise these very same friends.
Over the course of many gatherings and conversations, my Republican friends were sometimes surprised by my support for certain Democratic policies, while my Democratic friends were sometimes surprised when I voted for a particular Republican candidate. My moderate and conservative views on some issues shocked a few of these dear friends, while my firm stance of support on what have been called “extreme liberal” policies did not sit well with my rather staunchly conservative friends. There have been shouting matches and slammed doors. Card games and movies had to be paused until the tension in the air dissipated enough for everyone’s blood pressure to return to just above normal. But guess what? We’re still friends, because they know me well enough to know that the choices I’ve made were done so because my convictions came after careful consideration of my guiding beliefs; after careful consideration of the lessons they helped me learn; after careful consideration of how I would be held accountable by God for my actions. Or inactions.
Born to an Irish Italian American mother and Bahamian father, when I immigrated to the United States from the Bahamas in high school, it didn’t take long before the insults by fellow classmates began. I didn’t take offence to the seemingly innocent questions such as, “Why do you pronounce your words that way?” and “Did you climb coconut trees growing up?” They were simply preambles to the obvious that followed, especially once it was realized that I did not discriminate on the basis of race in regard to whom I would befriend. Oreo. White Girl. Sellout. Wannabe. My peers didn’t discriminate either: the insults were hurled by Black and white classmates alike.
I’ll skip ahead through my years as an undergraduate and graduate student, during which I had the great fortune of meeting lifelong friends and mentors who helped me see the world through different lenses. They helped me understand the difference between empathy and sympathy and taught me the importance of accountability—at all times—to a Higher Power, which for me, as a Christian, is the Triune God.
Sunny California became my home for many years after I completed my Master’s in International Relations. My thesis was on the dissolution of the USSR (Union of Soviet Socialist Republics), which I find quite coincidental given the current state of global affairs. While living in Los Angeles, the best thing that happened to me was meeting my now-husband. The second-best thing that happened was the formation of my extremely diverse group of friends, who continued to help me grow in ways that were uncomfortable, yet necessary. This growth also influenced my choices, which would, at times, surprise these very same friends.
Over the course of many gatherings and conversations, my Republican friends were sometimes surprised by my support for certain Democratic policies, while my Democratic friends were sometimes surprised when I voted for a particular Republican candidate. My moderate and conservative views on some issues shocked a few of these dear friends, while my firm stance of support on what have been called “extreme liberal” policies did not sit well with my rather staunchly conservative friends. There have been shouting matches and slammed doors. Card games and movies had to be paused until the tension in the air dissipated enough for everyone’s blood pressure to return to just above normal. But guess what? We’re still friends, because they know me well enough to know that the choices I’ve made were done so because my convictions came after careful consideration of my guiding beliefs; after careful consideration of the lessons they helped me learn; after careful consideration of how I would be held accountable by God for my actions. Or inactions.
When it came time to enroll my son in school, the priority was to find the best environment suited to his personality and learning style, whether public, private, or charter. After visiting schools across the city, my husband and I chose a private school. For this, we were called “bougie negroes” by an African American neighbor around the corner. One evening, we received an email from a white counselor at that same school who had been a guest in my son’s class that morning. She suggested that my husband and I teach our six-year-old son the importance of patriotism: he’d bent over to pick up his pencil that had rolled onto the floor during the Pledge of Allegiance. Apparently, my husband serving on the front lines as a Special Forces Marine for the United States of America wasn’t patriotic enough. In both situations, I was able to read between the lines and hear what they were really saying.
Now that I’ve shared these personal stories (thank you for sticking around!), here is the point I wanted to make in doing so:
These experiences, and others, have led me to often take a neutral position on matters that others may respond to with far more passion. I have not disowned my family member who voted for Donald Trump because I love her so deeply and still remember when, as a teen, I could share anything with her, and she understood and accepted me without judgment. I have not renounced my friendship with the person whose painful remarks about white people have hurt me because I understand the root causes of his opinions do not discount his love for me.
For the vast majority of my life, I have sought to dwell in an area of neutrality. When I write, my intention is to address the person, not politics; life, not the left; redemption, not the right. I don’t speak about things publicly when many others do, because I believe my voice isn’t strong enough; they have experienced much more than I have, on one side or the other, and their words will thus carry far more weight than mine—someone who’s been rather “neutral.” However, perhaps for all of us, there will come a time when neutrality is no longer a comfortable place to dwell, and for me, that time has arrived.
So let me be indisputably clear: what I see happening in the streets of Minnesota and other parts of the United States of America is sickening. What I have observed being done to immigrants AND legal citizens by ICE agents is inhumane and frankly, un-Christlike. The policies, responses, and statements made by the current administration and the president of the United States regarding these actions are unacceptable—abhorrent. How much more blood needs to be shed? How many more lives lost? I am not and will not be neutral about this.
“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.”
~Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
Now that I’ve shared these personal stories (thank you for sticking around!), here is the point I wanted to make in doing so:
These experiences, and others, have led me to often take a neutral position on matters that others may respond to with far more passion. I have not disowned my family member who voted for Donald Trump because I love her so deeply and still remember when, as a teen, I could share anything with her, and she understood and accepted me without judgment. I have not renounced my friendship with the person whose painful remarks about white people have hurt me because I understand the root causes of his opinions do not discount his love for me.
For the vast majority of my life, I have sought to dwell in an area of neutrality. When I write, my intention is to address the person, not politics; life, not the left; redemption, not the right. I don’t speak about things publicly when many others do, because I believe my voice isn’t strong enough; they have experienced much more than I have, on one side or the other, and their words will thus carry far more weight than mine—someone who’s been rather “neutral.” However, perhaps for all of us, there will come a time when neutrality is no longer a comfortable place to dwell, and for me, that time has arrived.
So let me be indisputably clear: what I see happening in the streets of Minnesota and other parts of the United States of America is sickening. What I have observed being done to immigrants AND legal citizens by ICE agents is inhumane and frankly, un-Christlike. The policies, responses, and statements made by the current administration and the president of the United States regarding these actions are unacceptable—abhorrent. How much more blood needs to be shed? How many more lives lost? I am not and will not be neutral about this.
“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.”
~Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.