Race is on our minds. The Black Lives Matter movement has brought Afro-American interests to our cultural consciousness, especially ones relating to our police force and courts. Some people are not a fan of this movement’s ideas or practices, and have tried to instead bring “All Lives Matter” or “Blue Lives Matter” to the forefront. Meanwhile, the recent election highlighted an important political line in the sand; that is, between white people (who made up a huge majority of votes for the Republican Party) and people of color (a huge majority of whom voted with the Democratic Party). Of course, race is sometimes an uncomfortable topic, and these things can be hard to talk about. However, in my experience, an important part of these discussions is left out far too often: whiteness.
It is widely accepted that racial categories, including that of “white,” are arbitrary distinctions that are sociocultural, not biological. Still, race is real. That is, since we all perceive people to be of different races (“black”, “white”, “Asian”, “Hispanic”, etc.) and treat them as such, it is an undeniably real part of each person’s experience of their life. More than that, we are all socialized by mass media, public education, and even each other to think and act like others of our race.
Many people of color I have spoken to about race can speak deeply and eloquently about their experience as a member of their race. For example, one black person I have known for years has many stories from her life that she uses to describe her own racially defined life. She shares them with humility, hoping to help people of other races to understand what it’s like to be a black woman in America. This is the case with almost all of the people of color I have close relationships with: they know what it means that their lives are racialized.
In contrast, I know very few white people who can do the same. For some reason, something in common with nearly all of the white people in my life is that they think and talk very little about their own racial experiences. This is a problem.
There are many things that white people have in common. White people all tend to have a Euro-centric view of the world, Germanic-Latin first and last names, similar hair and beauty products. Personally, it’s rare for strangers to be afraid of me, or for law enforcers (police officers, judges, security guards, etc.) to be suspicious of me. In fact, I’m automatically trusted in almost every context. I suspect this is also true for the white people reading this. As members of an individualistic culture that originally came mostly from individualistic cultures, it is easiest for us to see how we are each different. In reality, however, sharing a racial category gives us many experiences in common, for better or worse.
These experiences, and many others, have socialized us into a white worldview, one which is full of contradictions. We have been taught that American history is mostly the positive history of white Americans discovering land, creating many things (including democracy, airplanes, and nuclear weapons), and upholding freedom. Meanwhile, we all but ignore the fact that white Americans have consistently enslaved, murdered, deported, and imprisoned Americans of other races. We as white people live mostly in segregated communities and attend mostly segregated churches, and still think we are objective in our analyses of racial issues. We worry about Muslim terrorists, without doing much about white supremacists. The list goes on. White people, myself included, cannot help but see things most easily from a white point of view. We need to recognize and discuss whiteness for this reason.
In suggesting that we talk more about whiteness, I definitely do not suggest that we move the focus of every conversation about race onto white people. In many cases, that sort of “but what about me/us/white people?” is distracting and unhelpful. I am simply suggesting that whiteness is an important aspect of American culture that we must confront.
So what, realistically, should white people do? We can spend time reading and listening about the life experiences of people of color – there is much about this online – and comparing it to our own. We can talk with one another about ways that our whiteness leads us to believe partial truths (as all racialized people experience to varying degrees), and humbly ask people of color to speak truth in love.
Historically, whiteness has largely been used (and continually redefined) in America to separate “white” from “non-white” in very concrete ways (e.g. “master” from “slave”, “legal citizen” from “illegal immigrant”, “nice schools” from “bad part of town”). Inheriting whiteness from those who have gone before leaves white people with a great responsibility: leaving a better legacy than the ones who gave us the name. We can only do that if we know exactly what it means to be white.
Michael is a senior applied design and visual communication major.
In this sense, we have all missed the mark terribly. Both the media and its consumers have allowed sensationalism, pettiness, and backbiting to become the norm in our daily news, and we have forgotten how to disagree civilly. Under such circumstances, it’s no wonder we have witnessed such a disgraceful campaign season. Each side bought into strawman arguments about the other simply because their newsfeeds told them they were true. There was little-to-no fact checking involved before hasty judgements were made. Trump’s supporters are not all homophobic racists, just as not all Clinton supporters are abortion-touting socialists.
I know this is a hard thing for me to say. I know it is even harder to hear, but I need you to know how your actions have hurt minorities, whether you intended it or not. It is hard to believe there is a place in America and the American Church for me, or people like me, because too many people voted without holding Trump accountable for his abusive language and campaign. If you voted for Trump, I do love you. That is why I wrote this article; the Church cannot be the Church if it remains passive in the face of injustice, and so I ask you to act. It is likely that racial prejudice and its dynamics are new to you, therefore, listen to your non-white friends and see what they have to say about it. Be honest about Trump’s (and other individual’s) abuses and please and avoid trivializing their pain. Rather, stand beside minorities and women who have been slandered in this campaign and hold the new president to a higher standard. You may have voted for Trump, but please make efforts to affirm that the Hispanic community, newly settled refugees, Muslim citizens and immigrants are valued people under Trump’s administration. 
One day, three teenage boys show up on the farm and trespass onto the plantation. The boys names are Garfield Smith (played by Newt Gingrich), W.T. Harper (played by Rudy Guiliani), and their leader Powel Boyd (played by Donald Trump). Powel is wild and an unpredictable outsider who uses foul language, smokes cigarettes, and has little respect for the elite plantation structure. Powel is on the farm to rekindle something lost from his idyllic childhood (Making America Great Again). Mrs. Cope doesn’t want this basket full of deplorables on her farm, but she allows them to stay even when they prove too much for her to control. She offers them sandwiches and drinks, but similar to the Book of Daniel 1:11-13, the boys refuse it because Mrs. Cope wants them to submit to her orders. Instead, the boys walk outside to the barn and steal milk. Mrs. Cope is concerned their cigarette smoking will start a fire since the farm has suffered a summer long drought. Night falls and the boys want to go to sleep in the barn, but Mrs. Cope insists they sleep in the field due to her fear that they will burn down the barn. The following day, the boys wake up and defy Mrs. Cope by riding her horses and letting the bull loose. Later in the afternoon, Mrs. Cope sees the boys throwing rocks at her mailbox and tells them she is going to call the police. The boys disappear, but as night falls Mrs. Cope smells smoke and sees the forest on her property is on fire. As she gets her servants, she approaches the fire and hears the boys laughter dancing in the fiery furnace of her forest. As fire engulfs the property, Mrs. Cope’s biggest fears have been realized. Her fortress was more fragile than she thought and her control is gone.
If your belief in the sinfulness of homosexuality thwarts your ability to love a gay person, you may need to reconsider your motives. Hold true to your beliefs, but for the sake of the unity of the church in a time of turmoil, please do not let the Christian acceptance of homophobia get in the way of your Christ-like compassion. You have Christian brothers and sisters who are a part of the LGBTQ+ community. Shouting at them and questioning why they would even want to attend Houghton College has done and will continue to do nothing to strengthen the church. We are one student body. We are one Houghton community. We are one body of Christ. You cannot pick and choose members of that family. We one-hundred percent need to do better. The next time you are about to slander your LGBTQ+ brothers and sisters in Christ, ask yourself when the last time you asked to pray for them was. Ask yourself whether or not you even have a gay friend. Disagree and debate, but for the beauty of the Earth, do not use your differences as an opportunity to inflict pain.
Armistice/Veterans Day provides the opportunity to reflect on the past and, hopefully, to apply what we can learn from reflection towards building a brighter tomorrow. Veterans deserve our recognition and respect because they were willing to sacrifice a part of their lives and autonomy in service to the greater good. But as General Schwarzkopf said, “Any soldier worth his salt should be anti-war.” Veterans, above all people, are the ones who must face the demon called “war” on a daily basis. They know what it will cost them and their loved ones. They have seen what war is, and found it wanting. It is not something to be sought after, desired, or romanticized; it is hell, and nothing more. 
The issue at hand is not a question of whether or not pipelines can leak and harm local peoples and ecosystems; they can and have. It is a question of whether or not we as a country are willing to let private companies knowingly gamble with the health and rights of indigenous peoples. And so far, we haven’t said no. If America does not want to echo some of the worst chapters of its brief history, its citizens and government need to take a strong stand for indigenous rights, and we need to do so now.
Our community tells straight couples that their sexual desires are (or can be) beautiful, holy, worthy of public celebration. Yet it tells queer couples that one of their most human qualities, the longing to become one flesh with their beloved, is to be dealt with swiftly behind closed doors. On the one hand, affirmation and love, and on the other, shame and suspicion.
