Healing Brokenness

Dear ones, 

Last night here in Portland, 10,000 people laid down on the Burnside Bridge with their hands behind their backs in protest of the death of George Floyd and many other Black men and women who have died senselessly at the hands of our policemen and women. The image of this demonstration brought tears to my eyes this morning. I cried too, as I drove towards a demonstration on Sunday and saw Cesar Chavez Blvd sidewalks filled with people in masks walking to the protest in the park holding Black Lives Matters signs.

Our cities are on fire right now. With the pandemic as the shaky ground under all our feet, now the wound of racial injustice and the legacy of slavery in the US is front and center and we are all once again confronted by how deep and toxic this wound is. At first, I admit, I was too overwhelmed and felt shut down to the pain. It feels like just a moment ago that Ahmaud Arbery was murdered while jogging. Now we are saying the names of George Floyd and Breonna Tayler, also murdered for no other reason than their skin color. There is so much pain and rage being expressed right now. It can feel like too much, but those of us who can look away must find a way to stay engaged.  

As a white woman, I have not had to worry about myself or my children being pulled over repeatedly or targeted for crimes simply because of the color of our skin. As a mother, it seems like a daily nightmare. We aren’t doing enough. Not nearly enough. The legacy of slavery is alive, and it is toxic to us all. There is a lot of work to be done and it is white people and people in positions of power who must rise to meet this need. (Resources Here) Will you make a list of what you will do, how you will rise to meet this moment? I am praying for revolution that is being born in these fiery, uncertain times and your lists are the answer to my prayers. 

As I watch recent events play out, it reminds me sometimes of the work couples do when one person has deeply hurt the other. I don’t make this comparison to say in any way that relationship betrayals are the same or of the same magnitude as multi-generational trauma and oppression, not by a long shot. But relationship betrayals are one way to look at how humans are able to heal pain together. The work of healing this kind of wound can be beautiful and deep. You can boil down this long and painful process to one guiding principle – the couple has to learn to be together in the hurt. They have to face the pain and hurt and not flinch, not blink. They have to breathe it in and let it rumble around inside of them, shaking loose any remaining detritus of shame or blame. This is very difficult for humans to do. 

We haven’t really made room for and listened to the pain that has been caused by slavery and white supremacy. That deep intergenerational human caused pain and trauma has been denied, defended and dismissed. This is why we aren’t healing as a culture. The structures must change and we have to become a culture that values equity and safety for all, not just for the dominant culture. We need to feel this from the inside out, we must look at George Floyd as our brother, our son, our father and feel the pain and the rage. We must let that pain guide us. 

Often in the early part of the process, the person who has betrayed the other will wonder and ask, what could I possibly do to make this better. First you must listen. Then more listening. Listening like you don’t know the story. Listen with your heart. Be in the pain. Let it hurt. This process takes time. Humans don’t like to feel pain. And we particularly don’t want to feel the pain we have caused. It takes time and care to get to that precious place where both hearts are open. But when I get there, I find that I do not have to tell people what to do. I trust them completely and step out of their way. When our hearts are open and we feel that pain, we move towards each other from a place of shared humanness and from that place, I find that people know what to do. Their hearts, their humanness knows just the moves, just the touch, just the song that needs to be softy sung. 

Can we let ourselves feel the pain and anguish of generations of oppression and violence? Can we breathe it in, let it rumble inside? Don’t look away friends. Don’t forget. Listen. Read. Let it hurt and then let your pain and anguish move you to action. 

Stay Close,

Sharon

An article on how to be antiracist