Social Stratification in the Deep South

For at least the last year, I have sought to get the tattoo that I finally got last Friday in New Orleans.  My spiritual journey leads me to continue identifying as Christian and has encouraged me to explore various schools/streams of religious thought.  Growing up in the Western world has encouraged me to take a mostly dichotomous approach to life where it must be either this way or that one; encountering some Eastern Philosophy years ago continues to challenge me to think in terms of “both-and”.  The yin-yang has become the image of choice - instead of choosing black or white, why not consider the proper proportion of each to have the most balanced experience?

This notion of “seeking balance” has been a hope of mine since being gripped by a “both-and” mindset/ideology.  The location of my tattoo of the yin-yang is on the inside of my right wrist, symbolically encouraging me to lead/live into a balanced existence.  At the New Orleans point of our experience, this personal desire for balance had crystallized in almost palpable ways.  Hearing personal stories and experiencing rich, sometimes confrontive history has increased my sensitivity to having as many voices represented in the conversation and narrative as possible.  From prisons to jook/juke joints, libraries to churches, and injustice to indifference, perhaps we are on tenuous terms between history and the/our/my future?!

What will  be positively different about me because of this 14-day experience?  How will the pain and discomfort of these teachable moments transition into deep, influential learnings along the next leg of my journey?  In an increasingly “smaller” world where we ironically  find ways to insulate ourselves from truly being with one another, what will emerge as the defining elements of community (personal to global)?

I believe that each of these responses request the compassion, dignity and humanity that only a commitment to authentic balance can bring…

The street that led up to the state’s capital building that capstoned the March from Selma originated from the town square that was the site of Montgomery’s trade of enslaved persons and where Mrs. Rosa Parks stood up for justice and equality by sitting down.  As I stood in the deserted space across from Dexter Avenue King Baptist Church which is nestled between numerous government buildings (the capital, SPLC, safety building, courts, etc.), the occupied police car did not move.

As I contemplate what message my “afro-d” presence might have sent then, memories flood my mind of averted and astonished glances along this journey that have made for solid reflection conversations and noticeable discomfort.  I find it appropriate that we are lodging at a casino/hotel for the next few days where I’ve seen a young girl emerge from a pool to wrap herself in the “stars and bars” of the Confederacy, giving voice to the awkward looks and attempts at discrete conversations that happen as people move to the slot machines.

Perhaps the whole of our group’s presence here in the American South is a gamble…

 The conversations for my involvement in this experience began in the summer of 2006; the implications are likely to be for many years to come.  We left Winston-Salem, North Carolina hearing the words of Rev. Dr. Howard Thurman asserting the sometimes strange quality of freedom that is not extreme individual autonomy but is rather, a radical exercise in interconnected community.  Herein lies the foundation for the Dream that etches the name, story and words of Martin King in our minds and on our psyches.  We intentionally enter the American South; tension from without and within is sure to emerge.  May it be a creative tension…