“What? That happened in Berkeley?”

“Oh man, that sucks. And in Berkeley, of all places…”

“You might think that would happen in the South, but Berkeley?”

It didn’t take long, but the shine of the East Bay has worn off. And let me tell you, what’s lying right below the surface is the makings of a shitstorm the likes of which you couldn’t imagine on your worst day. Sorry to burst your bubble, but this place is asking for trouble.

Why, you might ask?

There seems to be this idea floating around that I live in a city (Berkeley) and a region (East Bay) that is extremely diverse, politically correct, and mindful of social and historical stratifications. And with this comes the very underlying implication that such a city or region can’t possibly be filled with people who have the ability to act with extremem prejudice and racism at any given moment.

And even if I were to tell you that a car of White young adults drove past me, my wife, and a coworker saying “nigger alley,” most people in this city and this region would call this an “incident,” and would call these people “the exception to the rule.”

First of all, this wasn’t an incident. In the words of a friend of mine, “Anyone in the majority can call things like this ‘events’ because they don’t have the context and experience of a sustained and systemic racist dynamic.” Because my town and my region don’t actually TALK about the diversity, politics, and stratifications that we are all allegedly aware of, let alone with people that can helpfully challenge our perceptions and stereotypes, there is little to no sense of closeness that can lead to the kind of compassion that takes us from events to shared sustained reality. Things like this are worth a moment of sadness, but not much more.

And second, what’s “the rule?” If the rule is that you shut up about how you feel about having to cross social boundaries and bottle your frustrations up until they explode in a fit of hatred and racism, then I would say that these people fit the rule to the letter. Not that I’ve seen much of the fit of hatred and racism here, but I’ve overheard plenty of conversations and heard more stories that tell me that people in majority communities have a lot of neutral frustration they don’t know what to do with.

If I’m honest, I don’t even want to write this. I don’t want to think about this anymore. Unfortunately, I don’t get that privilege. Because when I’m reminded of the power that one word has to remind me of the history of my land and the social place that was meant for me, my spirit has no choice but to mourn.

But this is why I have laid my whole life before Jesus and chosen his way of life (and death and new life). Because at the very least, he invites me to suffer alongside him as he mourns the fractured systems and downcast people in my city and region. And, he suffers alongside me as I find it very hard to have hope on a daily basis. But most of all, Jesus promises to put all things to rights, to make all things new, to restore all things to their proper intention.

But until then, we need to learn how to talk with each other and suffer with each other. Otherwise, we are complicit to the systems and social dynamics that continue to oppress those in the minority, and we make ourselves more and more blind to the things we claim to see clearly.

There is good news from Jesus about this.
I know what it is, and I’m comforted by it.
But I’m still mourning, and Jesus can handle it.