Author: Joe Miner

“I get what they were saying, but they shouldn’t have said it like that.”

This comment captures the general sentiments of many white Americans when confronted with a subversive speaker or writer, especially when they discuss issues surrounding race. Many tend to sympathize with the message being conveyed, but even more find their methods to be repulsive, and because of that, attempt to discredit the overall message being shared.

Remember when Colin Kaepernick and countless other black athletes kneeled during the playing of the national anthem at sporting events? Rather than commenting on police brutality, asking questions about how the prison system has disproportionately affected people of color, or responding to the general systemic racism that still exists in the United States today, much of the response coming from conservative, white America seemed to be: “Why do they have to kneel during the anthem? Can’t they see that they’re disrespecting their own nation?”

Just last week, we welcomed a Native American speaker, Dr. Mark Charles, who spoke to us about horrific acts of violent oppression against countless Native American tribes, and how he believed many white people, and many respected white political figures and theologians were complicit in the removal of Native people from their homelands. The general response was not disgust with these horrific acts or the condemnation of the centuries-long genocide of various Native American tribes. Rather, comments ran more along the lines of “He took that statistic out of context. Why did he sound so angry?”

Thinking through these responses to both Kaepernick and Charles, I have come up with a question of my own: In what ways can people of color speak up that will get conservative white people to listen?

In all honesty, it feels like a hopeless cause. When racial minorities peacefully protest, they are seen as ungrateful and un-American. When violent riots occur in the streets of Baltimore, the protesters are called “thugs” (which, by the way, has been used in the same ways and contexts as the word “nigger”). When speakers like Dr. Charles present a case for how America has not lived up to “liberty and justice for all,” he is chastised for twisting facts to make them fit an agenda.

Is there any way in which racial minorities can speak up in a more convenient and digestible way that would be easier for the average white American to hear?

The answer, in short, is no. There is simply nothing convenient about racial justice. There is nothing about systemic racism that is easy to digest. There is nothing easy about mass incarceration or police brutality. There is nothing convenient about America’s history of removing indigenous people groups from their homelands to build a white civilization. It is hard to hear that the nation you grew up revering has given an unfair hand to racial minorities.

If this were easy, our history would not be plagued with over 200 years of slavery, laws calling for the removal of Indian savages, over half a century of Jim Crow laws, internment camps, or stop-and-frisk policies that seem to allow for the racial profiling of black men in urban areas. If this were easy, we would not ha

ve to contend with the fact that many of our parents and grandparents still remember and lived through racial segregation. If this were easy, a black student on this very campus would never have received a note last spring saying, “You don’t belong here, nigger.”

We cannot ignore history and we, as the body of Christ, cannot be the ones to ignore the present realities of racial injustice in America. As a person of color, I will continue to use my voice until tangible change is made. Yes, we have taken many steps forward since the days of slavery and racial segregation, but there is still much to be done.

Unfortunately, I know that there will be many who are angered by this article. Even more unfortunate is the reality that few will actually engage me in a face-to-face conversation about racial reconciliation. For many, this will not be enough to take a step back and recognize that we have a serious problem with racial inequality in America. Some may disagree with one thing I say, and discredit this entire piece. It feels like a hopeless cause.

But we are not called to hopelessness. We are called to faith, hope, and revolutionary love, and I have hope that things can change. However, we can only improve if we practice active listening. Don’t just seek to discredit statements made by people of color. Instead, make an attempt to understand not only the statistics, but also the personal testimonies of the realities of modern racial discrimination.

Racism is not convenient, and seeking to restore justice is even less so. Still, we have a choice to make: do we as the body of Christ strive for what’s right, or do we settle for what is easy?

Joe is a senior majoring in communication.

There is something inherently human about an apology. The ability to feel remorse for an action and then to take blame for what has been done cannot be found in any other living organism. Humans are naturally empathetic creatures. It is good for us to practice apologizing because it builds empathy within us, making us more and more human with each wrongdoing.

As beautiful as I’d like to think apologies are, they make us vulnerable to critique. No one likes critique. We like to hear about our successes and how we’ve made a positive difference in someone’s life. Criticisms never portray us in the best light. They point out the ever-present knowledge that we are not always right.

The only way for us to build empathy when we have hurt someone is to look them in the face and see the damage done. We have to deal with the very real consequences of our mistakes and see the wreckage we’ve left behind.

The empathy-building miracle drug that is a genuine apology can only do its work in us when it happens in person. I don’t think you can fully accept responsibility or understand the weight of your actions if you send it through Facebook or Gmail. Sure, the person you’re apologizing to may feel resolved after you sent them an “I’m sorry” text, but I am not totally convinced that anything will have changed in you. That’s not to say that you won’t feel terrible about what you’ve done if you offer a digital apology.

I experienced this myself last fall, when I snapped at a fellow Resident Assistant. I was calloused and cruel, and to make matters worse, I snapped at him in front of his residents. That night, I apologized over Facebook Messenger because I felt awful about what I said. Upon receiving my apology, he felt resolved and we moved on. What’s the problem with that?

I didn’t have to fully deal with the consequences of hurting my friend. I didn’t know whether or not he cried thinking about what I had done and there was no way for me to understand the depth of what I made him feel.

Additionally, there was no way for him to gauge the depth of sincerity in my apology. I would imagine it must have been more difficult for him to rebuild the trust he had in me.

Social media removes a human element from our conversations with others. We cannot see how our actions are directly impacting those around us, and because of that, it’s easier for us to move on without considering the other person going forward. On top of that, we can edit paragraphs of text to remove every stutter, hesitation, and misunderstanding until we sound as faultless as possible. This is counterproductive because the entire point of an apology is to accept and admit fault!

When I sent a message to communicate my remorse, I didn’t have to console my friend or confront the reality of the hurt that he felt. It was quick, convenient, and easy to address. Since when do those adjectives describe a healthy relationship?

Relationships are more complicated than sending out paragraphs of text-based emotion. Emotions are more complicated than reducing them to a 120-character response. You cannot simplify these complex human interactions to make yourself feel safer, especially when you are in the wrong.

If we can hurt people in-person, we better have the guts to reconcile in-person. Most of us have been guilty of avoiding apologizing in person, but moving forward, we need to do better. If we can claim to be a close-knit Christian community, we need to act as if that were true.

We owe it to each other and to ourselves to strengthen our empathy muscles and hurt with those we’ve hurt. We can even start today with an apology to those we’ve texted “I’m sorry”– and this time, it better be face-to-face.

Joe is a senior majoring in Communication with a concentration in media arts and visual communication.

Houghton College students are some of the most caring and well-meaning people that I have ever encountered. Here, we are encouraged to practice empathy and understanding when interacting with faculty, staff, and students. Although it may be uncomfortable, Houghton teaches students to practice empathy and understanding, and I think many students try hard to emulate that.

When someone is mourning a tragic loss, a common empathetic response is “What can I do to help?” This often communicates to the person struggling that someone cares. Asking what you can do to help is a seemingly wonderful sentiment to offer. If you want to support someone, but are unsure of how to do that, it makes sense  to ask. It’s a kind gesture, and if you actually listen to the response, you may have found valuable insight for the rest of your life.

I also hear this statement used when difficult situations occur that seem to especially affect our minority students. If you were on campus when a Houghton student received a racist note last spring, you may remember many people asking minority students, “What can I do to be helpful?” For many students, this was their way of caring and showing support. Many white students wanted to do something to help heal the wounds that minority students were feeling, but had no idea what would be the most helpful.

While the intentions behind this approach are kind, I want to caution people against using it as a method of support. For starters, when I heard about the incident of overt racism on our campus, I was distraught. As a human, I was disgusted. As a black man, I was both fearful and angry. I could hardly hold myself together in the days following the incident. When people would ask how they could be helpful, while I understood their kind intentions, it felt like I had this responsibility of educating my white peers on how to be empathetic while I was just struggling to make it through an entire shift at work.

I and many other minority students felt like we were being asked to lead the charge in social justice on campus when we were barely finding words to explain how we were feeling. We were already tired of trying to explain to people why they needed to listen to a chapel speaker who raised difficult topics about race the week before. Imagine how much more tired we were when we were constantly being asked to come up with helpful tips to empathize with us in our time of need.

Another issue I have with this method of support is that it feels like my white peers haven’t actually been listening to either me or other minorities on campus. Don’t get me wrong, I know that people have good intentions when asking how they can help. However, I feel like we have been trying to teach campus how to be supportive for a long time. What happened to all of the panel discussions we’ve had regarding racial reconciliation? Did white students, faculty, and staff forget what we talked about, or were they simply not paying attention? In either case, it hurts knowing that these discussions haven’t really helped change anything.

I’m not saying that white people should stop trying to find ways to support minorities. As a campus community, as the body of Christ, and as decent human beings, we should always be looking for ways to support one another. However, asking how you can be supportive should be a proactive measure, not an emergency response. If you find ways to be helpful, take note of that, and keep it in your memory for when it comes time for you to support someone.

Sometimes it’s not about what you say. Sometimes it’s about when you say it. This means that you may have to have difficult conversations before difficult situations arise. Even when you don’t see something tragic on the news or in your community, you may still need to engage in discussions about race. We need to be talking about race and how it impacts our culture, and how our diverse cultures make our experiences at Houghton different. If we have these tough conversations now rather than later, we will see instances of overt racism and have a better and more prepared response than “How can I help?”

Joe is a senior majoring in communication with a concentration in media arts and visual communication.