Colorful Justice: a dangling conversation....

Way back in September, the MY teams had the opportunity to hear a lecture by Michelle Alexander, author of The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness. Her talk had a unique relevance to my life here as I've been learning the stories of ex-convicts in our community, and as I've been learning more about racism. In honor of Martin Luther King Jr. this past week, I'd like to revisit this topic, which is actually overdue...

A quick synopsis:
As the United States celebrates its “triumph over race” with the election of Barack Obama, the majority of black men in major urban areas are under correctional control or saddled with criminal records for life. Jim Crow laws were wiped off the books decades ago, but today an extraordinary percentage of the African American community is warehoused in prisons or trapped in a parallel social universe, denied basic civil and human rights— including the right to vote, the right to serve on juries, and the right to be free of legal discrimination in employment, housing, access to education and public benefits. Today, it is no longer socially permissible to use race explicitly as a justification for discrimination, exclusion, and social contempt. Yet as civil rights lawyer-turned-legal scholar Michelle Alexander demonstrates, it is perfectly legal to discriminate against convicted criminals in nearly all the ways in which it was once legal to discriminate against African Americans. Once labeled a felon, even for a minor drug crime, the old forms of discrimination are suddenly legal again. In her words, “we have not ended racial caste in America; we have merely redesigned it.”
Michelle focuses on the Black community and the issue of drug-related crimes, but she acknowledges that this is only one particular area of focus among many important issues. Her aim is “to stimulate conversation about the role of the criminal justice system in creating and perpetuating racial hierarchy in the U.S.” Rather than outlining statistics, I'll simply recommend you read her book or visit her website (www.newjimcrow.com). What I would like to do here is make a few observations from my own life.

One particular man has been in the back of my mind as I've been thinking through the ideas that Michelle talked about. We met S in September one day at the bus stop. S recently got out of prison after 23 years. He said he would not wish that experience on his worst enemy. Our bus was an hour late, so we got to hear a lot about his crazy life. He was really encouraged to meet us, and has visited our service sites a couple times since we met him. "Mom always said, 'If you set out to do good, you'll meet good people.'" All of his family is gone, and because of what he's gone through, he doesn't trust anyone anymore. He lives in fear of going back to jail. "People approach me for the wrong reasons," he said, "I don't want anything to do with that." He's trying hard to get back on his feet, and, as far as I can tell, is doing an admirable job of it. How does a man like S get back on his feet when he has been branded as a felon for life? When he has been denied basic rights and has little to no chance of getting a job? Where can he find hope of starting a fresh life in a system designed to cripple him? He used to be a welder, but has since developed glaucoma and is blind in his right eye. What are his options?

People released from prison are in desperate need. The stigma of being labeled a felon is the hardest part, and often leads to silence. When people in our communities go to jail, they have a tendency to not talk about it. They just disappear for a while and when they come back, sometimes their families don't even know where they've been. They've just “been away” for a while. These people need safe places for themselves and for their families.

Where do you see racial discrimination?

Our team lives in the North Side. The 78 bus line takes us south toward downtown, and one of the first things I noticed living here is that, as we ride south, the ratio of Blacks to Hispanics seems to directly increase. Houston has a lot of diversity, but there's still a lot of segregation in neighborhoods. I forget sometimes that racism doesn't just happen between Whites and Blacks, Whites and Hispanics, etc. It happens between Blacks and Asians, Hispanics and Africans, etc. There are neighborhoods where railroad tracks literally separate Hispanics and Blacks.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.”

One day Jessi and I visited the post office to pick up some packages. We were waiting in line, and there was a Black man and a Hispanic man ahead of us. I noticed as they went up to the desk to receive their packages that they were each asked to show ID, so I pulled out my wallet to present mine as well when my turn came. But we were never asked to show ours. “Did you see that injustice?” Jessi asked me as the woman went to collect our packages. “They didn't card us.” The Black man overheard her comment and said, “It's because you're white. People say there's no more racism in this country, but that's just an illusion.”

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

On Tuesdays at Fletcher we serve homeless and low-income families by helping them get clothes. I've found it interesting to notice my reaction to people of different races. My comfort level around poor Hispanics seems fairly high, whereas when a White or Black person comes in, suddenly I avoid eye contact or remember to put my bag away. My housemates have expressed other reactions. Some are most comfortable around Blacks or feel very uncomfortable around poor Hispanics, depending on how their life experiences have shaped their perceptions. But many of us seem to agree that homeless white men make us the most uncomfortable...Why is that? I've discovered that I reserve less grace for poor white folk. I get caught in the mentality that, since white people don't have the same societal barriers that “marginalized” groups have, they should be able to help their situation...

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; “and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.”

May the Giver of Dreams expand our capacity to dream. May our imaginations and creativity overflow into our everyday lives, so that “we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children, black and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual: Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!”