A Blessed Circle, A Blessed Evening (Part I)

Yesterday was my friend, Rose Pulliam's birthday.  [Happy Birthday, again, Rose!]  If you don't know Rose, she is a beautiful woman, in every sense imaginable.  Hers is a gathering and nurturing soul; the kind that keeps communities together.  She totally dispels the notion that activists, of which she is one of the finest, only throw bricks and don't build anything.  Rose can throw a brick, but through her stories, comedy, outreach, and just force of personality, she constantly edifies individuals and communities in the deepest, most profound and elemental ways.  

So, we gathered to celebrate her birthday.  Overtime, as the crowd ebbed and flowed, about of dozen of us--all queer people of color, mostly activists, many with Bible-based religious backgrounds of various denominations--formed a large circle and began to talk about religion and faith.  In the circle were 4 men and 8 or so women, people in their 20s through 50s, including African Americans, Latin@s, and women from the Caribbean.  We covered a lot of ground as the conversation flowed from an academic look at religion and politics to how religion played in people's coming out stories and a host of other angles.  Eventually, one of the sisters in the group asked the pivotal question that launched us into the meat of the night.  She asked, "what happens to the soul when we die?  Where does the soul go?"   

I cannot do justice to the following events, nor can I completely recount every word (or even highlight) of the blessed conversation that followed.  There was too much wisdom in the group to even imagine capturing it in words.  We simply vibed together.  As the Bible says, "deep calls to deep," and that's where and how we met each other.  The energy in the space was so holy (for lack of a less loaded word), built on the trust and safety we recognized and built in each other.  And it was as much recognized as created.  The secret price of entry to the circle, demanded by the Spirit that brought us, was years of deep and intense personal reflection on who we are in the world and how our religious histories had both revealed and hidden aspects of the spiritual realities we are called to share.  It was the evidence of that pursuit of truth beyond dogma--an uncommon spiritual maturation--that we silently recognized in one another.  Everyone brought some truly spiritual gift to the collective, and we recognized that gifting in each other as well.  Upon those spiritual recognitions and connections, we experienced our circle.  

Like I said, there was far too much wisdom in the circle for me to recount it here.  Truthfully, so much happened beyond the aural that even a perfect transcription of the night would give but a fraction of the experience.  So let me touch on just a few things to give a sense of the conversation.  In the next post, I want to talk about my experience in the circle.  

So, the pivotal question was, "Where does the soul go when we die?" People offered a range of answers, generally speaking of our souls and essences as collections of energy that may or may not (or may also) remain as a self-identified unit after bodily death (as opposed to breaking up into fragments, given away in life and/or recycled in death back in to the whole).  We related stories of speaking to people who had passed, whether directly or through mediums.  [[I'll note here that even the Bible says this is possible; remember Saul speaking to Samuel through the Witch of Endor and Abraham's acknowledgement that it is possible for the dead rich man go back and talk to his brothers though it would be useless.]]  We spoke of dreaming other people's dreams and receiving and conveying supernatural messages...and the awesome responsibility that entails.  We spoke of visions; some viewed alone, others shared.  We wondered how all this is possible.  What truths about now and the next epoch do our experiences reveal?  Conversely, we did not try to fit our experiences into the orthodoxy boxes of our various traditions.  Nor did we doubt one another.  We did not all have identical experiences, but we've all had experiences that were similar enough and far enough beyond the fringes of orthodoxy to know that everyone was speaking of "reality."  Every story was more than sincere; it was accurate.  

We wondered.  We spoke of the power of this wonder and of faith and doubt and fear.  One sister shared a valuable lesson.  She said, "fear haunts.  Truth does not haunt.  Truth always manifests itself."  And she is right, truth comes to pass.  Fear dogs people, but the fearful possibilities cannot and do not all come into being.  In another exchange, a brother spoke of doubt and faith.  Relating his coming out story, he said he learned to have as much faith that God created him as gay as others have that being gay is sin.  We spoke of how doubt creates much opportunity--to expand beyond dogma, to receive others, to experience spirit.  

We spoke of how death is a simultaneously individual and collective experience.  Even birth is a collective experience (just ask your mother), as is every subsequent experience until death.  No one experiences death per se with you; we all face it individually.  Yet, we can experience it collectively.  Several sisters recalled being together when a loved one passed, in the very house where we were talking.  Everyone recounted the different experiences, in at least three locations, that marked the instant of the person's passing.  A sleeping baby sat up to witness the moment, people pulled close in immediate anticipation, one woman spoke in words and a voice unrecognizable to herself.  

We spoke of shared energies.  How we miss the experience of collective worship, especially the songs.  We hummed the Old 100; that classic set of moans and ancestral hymns that welcome the Spirit and make the Black church so powerful and comforting.  We spoke of how the songs put us on the same wave length and how our bodies and essences feel that.  How that collective energy is so strong it can become visible.  

We laughed.  Uninhibited, joyful laughs.  We truly enjoyed each other and all the people, present and past, whose spirits and other remnants, were in the place.  It was a blessing.  It was healing.  We all held hands, felt a powerful warmth, and gave thanks.  

Deferential Diplomacy

In my quotidian survey of popular newspapers and political blogs, I was struck by the headline at politico.com declaring President Obama's strategic "diplomacy of deference" and the subsequent critiques (article and image credits available at above link). At first, I assumed the criticisms were based on tacit white supremacist positions, unspoken and generally buried in the subconsciences of the unwitting. I was right about the cause, but wrong about the manifestation. The racial element remains thinly veiled (and I mean thinly), but the supremacist element is bold indeed. Darth Vader himself, Dick Cheney, exemplifies the phenomenon:

But critics call Obama’s outstretched hand a miscalculation. Former vice president Cheney said: "There is no reason for an American president to bow to anyone. Our friends and allies don't expect it, and our enemies see it as a sign of weakness."

Did I miss something? Does every U.S. president pass into deity immediately following his inauguration? I was in Washington this past January, and I can tell you I saw nothing of the sort. Why then should American presidents not have to show respect to other national leaders (and frankly, every human being, in my view) via the cultural symbols dominant in that society?

You will notice that Emperor Akihito and President Obama are both simultaneously bowing and shaking hands. Indeed, the image appears to me to represent exactly the kind of mutual respect for one another and the larger societies each represents that is appropriate in diplomatic contexts.

Frankly, I believe Obama's status as the first Black president plays into the situation in myriad ways. First off, I believe that as a Black man, Obama has had to use a host of symbolic forms of respect and deference to others his entire life. Whites have undoubtedly demanded all sorts of indications of deference from him, especially in this "colorblind" era. Obama has skillfully learned to turn whites' racist demands into an asset for himself, which wheals now as second nature.

But more to the point, I believe Obama's racial status contributed to the development of his general orientation toward the world--one of respect and a sense of communal membership, rather than global domination. Part of the historical development of whiteness is the idea that whites have a manifest destiny; a destiny which has gone global over the years. Although it is taken for granted now that everyone issues handshakes as the common greeting, the handshake is actually a Eurocentric tradition. Whites made it universal through aggressive imperialism. Forcing others to use Western cultural symbols represented, and continues to represent, acquiescence to said imperialism.

Obama's decision to recognize indigenous symbols is a repudiation of America's history of white imperialism and racism. Critics of the president are manifesting deep emotional attachments to white supremacy. The degree of "controversy" and the characterization of Obama's moves as "deferential" (rather than respectful) and indicative of "weakness" illustrate the depth and ubiquity of white supremacy in the United States, among all social strata. The emotionally charged rhetoric indicates just how entrench white supremacy and its defenders are in this country.

This "controversy" is really just the white supremacist version of territorial animals' displays of aggression; white supremacists are basically flashing their teeth at us, hoping to intimidate us into giving into their racist demands. But like animals, their reaction is actually a revelation that they feel very threatened, even by something as simple as a bow. They hope brief displays will save them from an actual fight.

As anti-racists, we must accurately recognize the meanings in critics' reactions and respond accordingly. Now is the time to resist. As the president has modeled, just purposing to demonstrate respect and equality is an effective means of attacking white supremacy. We can all do that. Let us support our president in his effort to reestablish the United States as one of many global players, rather than a resented global bully. Let us think globally and act locally. We should make a special effort to learn and use non-Western/white symbols to demonstrate respect.

[[This final paragraph is largely my first attempt to address an issue in critical race studies, and sociology generally. We diagnose social ills extremely well, but our prescriptions for resolution are very limited and under theorized. Like Marx, I believe the tools of revolution exist within every social structure. We only need to recognize them and be willing to use them. Consequently, I am putting more effort to suggesting a range of options and actions we can take to combat social injustices wherever we find them. Massive social movements are wonderful and necessary for some tasks, but we have waited for the movement too long. Not all issues are best addressed by immediate mobilizations. Let's keep trying whatever we can until we find what we can do now that works. I would greatly appreciate your thoughts and ideas about resistance.]]