When Scarlett O’Hara argued with Rhett Butler on the grand staircase at Tara in the epic movie, Gone with the Wind, she may have been responsible for more broken limbs and serious injuries to women than any other calamity around that time. In this dramatic scene, Scarlett ends up falling down the entire staircase, causing her to suffer a tragic miscarriage. News back-stories tell us that some women, after seeing the movie, deduced that this must be an easy, relatively harmless way to get rid of an unplanned or unwanted pregnancy, and so they threw themselves down a staircase or hurled their bodies over a balcony. No doubt some of these women did, tragically, harm their unborn babies, but more than likely, most ended up still pregnant, but limping, in a sling, in traction, or worse.
Perhaps this great movie of cinematic genius has an equally detrimental take-away as it translates into the modern-day cross-racial appointments of black pastors to white congregations. For her role as Mammy in Gone with the Wind, Hattie McDaniel became the first African American actress to be awarded the coveted Academy Award – the Oscar. Ironically, she was awarded for affirming the stereotype of the doting, selfless, self-effacing, devotee of pampered white people. Her sidekick, Butterfly McQueen, reinforced the profile as Prissy in the same movie. Fifty (50) years went by until the next African American female, Whoopi Goldberg, was awarded an Oscar, again in the Supporting Actress category, for the movie Ghost, for essentially mediating and running positive interference for white folks stuck in a negative, transitional and formidable situation.
In cross-racial appointments, particularly of African American pastors to white congregations, do we affirm and sustain the Prissy, Mammy, Stepin Fetchit, Bojangles and other classic black stereotypes as the quintessential nannies, valets, minstrels, mourners and entertainers of white existence?
Recently, my brother in law, Pastor Charles Richardson passed away suddenly and without any apparent warning. My family was devastated and that not even to say what my sister who was his devoted, loving and supportive partner over the many years has been going through. At the memorial service held at his church where he served as minister of worship, it was apparent to all of us that he was loved by all in the congregation. This congregation is a fairly new congregation of, oh 500 people, which is not too bad for Florida. The other dynamic about this congregation is that it was truly multicultural and multiracial. It is in the Ft. Lauderdale area and attended by many biracial families of African American, Haitian, Jamaican, Puerto Rican, Cuban, Dominican, Anglo decent. Chuckie, as the family called him, and the senior pastor where 2 African Americans of a staff that included a Japanese-Cuban youth pastor, an 2 other anglo pastors and a Latino Pastor as well. Chuckie had only been there for 2 years but his reputation proceeded him from his former congregations and senior pastors. Chuckie was a consumate performer and musician, integrity and honor were part of his legacy and a deep sense of who he was as a black man and the value and gift his biracial family was to the church and to the community. One of the testimonies that were given in his memorial was when after one of his colleagues reached out to him in genuine love but ignorant of what she was about to say shared with Chuckie that she no longer saw the color of his skin and he was now her brother and that she loved him in Christ. Chuckie, in his pastoral, kind and yet serious way corrected her and said "but you have to see all of me, I am and never will stop being a black man. This is who I am and if you can't see my skin and all that I represent and love me because of it then you really don't love me."
ReplyDeleteThis pastor was changed forever and testified how she learned from her brother that day about her own sin.
It reminded me that as much as I want to run away from that responsibility or try to demonstrate that not all persons of color have the same likes and the same tastes. When people look at me and hear me, and notice my name all kinds of pictures, memories and experiences come into their mind. All those things hidden in the back of their brain in the memory storing center of the brain come rushing back, for better or for worse.
I can't escape being compared or being challenged by the stereotypes, nor can I espace from being an educator, a facilitator for change. As the old song says "until Jesus comes..." I will be given the task to break the chains and change the mindsets. However, what I have learned from my brother in law is that this really happens beyond the rallies, and commemorative days and services. This happens in relationship! Being willing to venture toward the unknown, the unfamiliar and let's face it, even the hostile is part of this work.
I thank God for his witness because the next pastor of color that comes after him, will not have to work so hard. In this season of Advent where we are asked as a Church to prepare the way, its good to remember that there are many WAYS that need to be prepared and that through the power of the Holy Spirit, we can be way-makers.
Lydia
Thanks, Lydia. Truth tends to emerge from the most innocent and sincere comments, and Chuckie did us all a service, and left a legacy that we need to acknowledge the whole person when we claim to love and admire them, and not pick and choose the attributes that suit us.
ReplyDeleteI remember Beth Stroud telling us straight folks that before we jump on the bandwagon claiming to support her because we "like her as an individual", we need to consider that what she needed instead, was for us to assess the entirety of her plight, message and mission. And that's the hard part - the necessity for relationship that you mention takes us deeper into the woods of intimacy and forces us to cross the railroad tracks of our own hearts.
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ReplyDeleteAn African American female serving in a cross-racial appointment:
I was groomed to be servile. Spiritually speaking many in my family have the gift of hospitality and helps. Historically, we are mostly dark, thus “field niggers.” I like to think that the Lord helps me sort it all out. I do think nothing of washing dishes or taking out trash, especially when my septuagenarian and octogenarian members are doing so and more while urging me to stick to pastoral duties and let them do the other. I have sung as part of a sermon from time to time, but often I think of a high-yellow fellow and preacher who once declared he would never, ever, ever sing in front of white folk because of that steppin’ fetchit history we share.
Recently, I heard Cornel West author of Prophecy Deliverance say that there are those who refuse to be Niggrified – that is made to bow down in fear that others could ride one’s back. What a challenge to stand tall when a cross-racial appointment includes a regular beat down.
The beat-down is not always dramatic but an accumulation of subtle and frustrating reminders. I cannot number the times people asked me in the first few months of my appointment, “When are you leaving?” “How long are you staying?” “I heard you were retiring.” “I know you Methodists don’t stay long.” “How long have you been here?” Commonly, such comments are interpreted as “How long has THIS been going on? And how much longer is it going to be endured?” One honest Methodist soul said quietly, “Why are we being forced to change? We don’t want to change.”
Perhaps “preparation” would make cross-racial appointments more meaningful, productive and less of a shock….and maybe not. MLK prepared protesters for violence. Unions prepared workers for integration. The Church….makes cross-racial appointments, remembering Frederick Douglass’ call to struggle without which there is no progress, so we “agitate, agitate, agitate” as the Holy Spirit directs, of course.