{"id":3502,"date":"2015-11-30T20:14:26","date_gmt":"2015-11-30T20:14:26","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/shalominthecity.com\/?p=3502"},"modified":"2015-11-30T20:14:26","modified_gmt":"2015-11-30T20:14:26","slug":"speaking-fear-praying-shalom-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/shalominthecity\/2015\/11\/speaking-fear-praying-shalom-2\/","title":{"rendered":"Speaking Fear, Praying Shalom"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<\/head>

We\u2019re stomping in the sludge on our walk to the bus stop. Every so often, the boys slide on the ice while my daughter clings to my coat for dear life. I call to them, \u201cListen: We need to make one stop at the GAP before dinner. I have your books in my bag. Sit and read while I shop and you\u2019ll get an extra hour at bedtime tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut why, Mama?\u201d My oldest whines.<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause it\u2019s good for you and because said so!\u201d My pat answer comes too sharp, too quick, too vague.<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t want to tell the truth that his mama is afraid. This Black Mama is afraid when I roll deep with my three kiddos in the affluent part of Cambridge. I\u2019m afraid of sideways glances and watchful eyes. I don\u2019t want to tell my kids that they must been seen and not heard, not because their little voices don\u2019t matter, but because the sound of our invasion invokes fear or annoyance. That I read another story of racial profiling resulting in another black boy\u2019s life cut short, and I keep seeing my oldest son\u2019s face replace the victim\u2019s.<\/p>\n

So, I remind them of their books and give them an incentive, and issue pat answers.<\/p>\n

\/\/\/\/\/\/<\/p>\n

\u201cMama\u201d my daughter whispers, her wild curly hair tickling my nose, \u201cI think Tyson took something from the store.\u201d<\/p>\n

We are walking out of The Harvard Coop\u2019s bookstore, making our way down the spiral stairwell that spans three floors, when I stop.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCheck his pocket\u201d she answers.<\/p>\n

I look at my man-child, a few steps below me, oblivious to that perfect storm of fear, anger, and black mama indignation churning in my gut.<\/p>\n

\u201cTyson\u2014 COME HERE!\u201d I demand. \u201cDid you take something from this bookstore?\u201d<\/p>\n

His face screws up in indignation, \u201cNo, Mama!\u201d<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t believe him so I gently pull him to me. His little gray-green eyes widen in hurt as I check his pockets.<\/p>\n

The very same hands that wiped his bum, dabbed away his tears, and treated bloody wounds, issue his first ever semi-public pat down.<\/strong><\/p>\n

Humiliation. Exposure. Distrust. I feel his shame as my hands press his pants pockets, his coat.<\/p>\n

\u201cTyson, what is this?\u201d I ask, holding a pair of neon orange GAP sunglasses that I did not pay for.<\/p>\n

\u201cMama\u2026\u201d he starts, \u201cMama\u2026I\u2019m sorry\u2026I stole them.\u201d<\/p>\n

A cold silence falls over our little group.<\/p>\n

\u201cHere\u2019s what you\u2019re going to do\u201d I hiss, \u201cYou are going to walk back into that store, and say \u2018Hello my name is Tyson, I\u2019m eleven years old and when I was here with my mom, I took these glasses. I know it was wrong and I\u2019m sorry.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut, Mama!\u201d He starts to protest.<\/p>\n

All the fear, all the fury, all the disappointment boils over and words spill out, \u201cTyson! Don\u2019t you know they expect this from us? Don\u2019t you know that to them,you\u2019re just another black kid to watch when you come into their stores? Don\u2019t you know they \u2018Stand Their Ground\u2019 against us over this nonsense? This isn\u2019t just about sunglasses!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you mean, Mama?\u201d With every word, I could see my fear chasing away his innocence.<\/p>\n

\u201cBaby, we\u2019re black. It\u2019s not safe for us. They\u2019ll shoot first without asking questions, and your stealing only gives them permission not to trust us. It makes murdering us okay. Look at Trayvon Martin. They\u2019re afraid of us. Don\u2019t you see?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2026I didn\u2019t know, Mama. I didn\u2019t know it was like that. I just didn\u2019t know\u2026\u201d He sputters as we leave the bookstore.<\/p>\n

\/\/\/\/\/<\/p>\n

My baby takes those sunglasses back to the GAP. He recites my apology. His eyes well up in fear-rich tears of shame. He\u2019s no longer a little boy who made a mistake; he\u2019s now a soldier in this racially charged battle. Another black boy VS. an unforgiving white world.<\/p>\n

My fear did that to him. For my son the world is now \u201cus\u201d and \u201cthem.\u201d<\/p>\n

That night as I tuck my daughter into bed, she holds my face and when our brown eyes meet she says, \u201cMama\u2026if they shoot black boys, what do they do to black girls?\u201d<\/p>\n

\/\/\/\/\/<\/p>\n

Later on, I lie on my bed, weeping. I ask Jesus what the hell I am doing. I have a child who steals, a terrified daughter, and a mouth full of fears. I remember the hoodie wearing boys, the loud music listening boys, and the girls who needed help in the middle of the night. I cry for mamas whose mouths are full of fear too. I meditate the words of college professor and slam poet Javon Johnson\u2019s,\u00a0\u201cBlack boys in this country cannot afford to play cops and robbers if [they\u2019re] always considered the latter\u201d<\/a>, grieving over child-like innocence lost. I ask God to give me some Heavenly Parental pat answer, but nothing comes.<\/p>\n

\/\/\/\/\/<\/p>\n

As I begin to write a prayer for the family of Jordan Davis the next morning, as I type out petitions before the throne of God and the whole interwebs, I remember these words:<\/p>\n

Perfect love casts out fear.<\/strong><\/p>\n

I think of Jesus who taught shalom to fear-riddled followers. Who spoke of an<\/p>\n

Upside Down Kingdom where the first are last, the children of God make peace, and the weary find rest. Where those who live by the sword of fearful words and accusations die by that very sword, but those who speak life and pray for comfort will see the Kingdom of God touch earth in profound, barrier-breaking ways.<\/p>\n

I remember that shalom\u2014the realization of God\u2019s perfect love on this terrified earth\u2014happens when his children are reconciled to each other as they have been reconciled to him.<\/p>\n

So I write my friends with blogs and I confess that as a black mama with Stand Your Ground Laws picking off our children one by one\u2014I\u2019m terrified of \u201cthem\u201d. I invite them to write prayers as we stand together for God\u2019s wholeness in the brokenness the justice system. We are white women and black, American and Canadian, young and old, urban and suburban and my fear will no longer perpetuate \u201cus\u201d and \u201cthem\u201d. Together we will stand our ground\u2026in prayer.<\/p>\n

\/\/\/\/\/\/<\/p>\n

\"DSPbetter\"<\/a><\/p>\n

This Mama is still afraid. I\u2019m afraid that my sweet boy in a hoodie could be mistaken for a threatening hoodlum and that a fear-propelled bullet could be his tragic end. This Mama is still afraid, so I will try to stand my ground and pray shalom when I\u2019m tempted to speak fear.<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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