For the First Time

When I held you for the first time I was unprepared for the swell
it rose silent and with force
it was hope rising
rising to paint a picture of a future
a future where I would stand with you as you grow into manhood
a future where you would know you are a delight
and where that delight would give strength to your ambition and clarity to your voice
that strength would be lived out in peace and conviction, with power
and with weakness

The swell begins with the tiny ripple that is this moment
a ripple that will grow as the moments drift by
what will I give you to grow the surge?
I will give you all of the best of me
the me that gives space to sitting with hard things
the me that engages hurt and disappointment
the me that calls for the celebration
I will give you the me that delights in your mother
I will give you the me that hurts and reconciles
that sees and hears
that loves and longs
I will give you all, all I am and will become

In this tiny moment I hold you safe in the fragility of your infancy
In this stillness of your newborn slumber
In the silence of this room
the surge begins with the tears that well in my eyes

And hope swells!

Why I Took Racism 101 and What I Learned

One of the "privileges" of being a white male is that I don't have to give a lot of thought to the issue of race.  I grew up in a relatively monocultural community and the relationships I had with people of color were occasional and without any real depth.  As a result, I was quite unaware of just how often I took advantage of my privilege of thoughtlessness.

That changed some when I went to graduate school outside of Chicago and had my first real friendships of depth with people of color.  I was moved and changed in those years, and though my compassion grew for the experiences of persons of color I remained largely ignorant.  I was aware that race and racism were not what I though they had been, but I couldn't articulate exactly what they were. I just knew that people I cared about had, and continued to, experience great pain as a result of a kind of racism that was overt to my eyes on occasion, but mostly was of a variety for which I had no vision.

The turning point came for me when, as a result of my wife and my infertility, we began to consider adoption as the means by which we would grow our family.  For a variety of reasons, both wounded and healthy, we decided to adopt transracially.  When we considered what it would mean to be the parents of a child of color we quickly realized that we were unprepared to engage issues of race so intimately.  We began to diligently, even obsessively, find ways to try to learn what we could about an experience foreign to our own.  Race and racism could no longer be social issues for which we had some sense of righteous indignation, it was about to be a part of us in ways we would never be able to let go.

So after seeking out an education on race and racism here are a few important things that have stuck with me from "The Modern Practice of the American Racialized Society 101."
1)  When whites talk about race and racism they frequently do so with other whites.  Often times they find plenty of validation for their presuppositions because they share the same set of lenses.  That doesn't mean what they agree upon is the most accurate vision of the reality of racism.
2)  Perpetuating systems of advantage/disadvantage based on race does not require malice or even the knowledge of ones participation.  (This is a foundation that is developed further in subsequent "courses.")
3)  Pretending that we can start from scratch right now, that there is no need to reexamine the history prior to the years of our own accountability or consider efforts at restorative justice, is like being in a baseball game where one team played by a different set of rules for seven innings.  The score is now 45-3 and the team in the lead thinks that the best solution is to just play out the final two innings under common rules.  (adaptation of an illustration by John Perkins)

So began the journey of eroding the footing on which I absolved myself of any complicity in the perpetuation of racism.  It was as if I found out I was a character in a story in which I didn't even know I was cast and then recognizing that it was time for me to play a more active roll in the direction of the still unfolding plot.  So I decided to find out more about my fellow characters and the backstory.  What I am learning from that search I will gladly continue to share.

In and Out

By the pleasure of my conceiver I have been born,

and that birth by means of pain.  

The pain remains,

continuing to usher me into life.  

A bludgeon on my back that I might breathe

life that is fleeting and abounding,

retched and glorious,

depraved and redeemed,

barren and fertile,

foreign and drawn back into familiar.

Drawn back through death

into the life of my conceiver, Love.

Pieces and Parts

These are the pieces of my tapestry,
the frayed threads with which my life is patched together.
They hold no beauty on their own,
they are the pieces of an unknowable story when held alone.
The story they will tell when pulled together is yet unseen,
mystery beyond the imaginings of the one who brings these scraps.
These tattered pieces, these incomplete parts
the images: loneliness, despair and uncertainty, fear.
To whom can I entrust them?
What can be made with this?