As I allowed my emotions to run their course and my heart to do its work over the course of the past week, I realize that I can now fully feel my pain. While it is difficult to continually witness and experience racial discrimination, it is also an instance of grace that I can still feel my pain. And it is a measure of grace that I can process it and speak candidly about it. The greatest measure of grace is that I can feel empathy for others. I can forgive and be forgiven. I can share in the hopes and hurts of all others. I can feel their pain.
As we find ourselves at all-too-familiar cross-roads, I am frequently asked about what actions we should take to address the systemic racism that persists within our society. Many of us want a quick address. We want the pain to go away. And we want it to do so quickly. Remember the axiom that pain hurts because it should. The action required most urgently will evoke more discomfort and pain. We need to keep listening as we have only begun to hear. And while we certainly must act, our actions will only be effective and sustained if we continually listen intellectually and emotionally. We should always hope that we are afforded the grace to truly feel one another’s pain.
To this end, I do not offer answers but rather necessary questions. Three to be exact. I recognize that we are a nation of differing ideals and beliefs, but I seek to appeal to the ties – the values – that bind us. My questions speak to matters of the heart, which supersede racial classification, political affiliation and religious denomination.
1. What has contributed to our current state of affairs?
2. Why are others acting or reacting in a particular manner?
3. How can I personally make a difference?
My mother has an inspiring personal narrative that involved resuming her education later in life, acquiring both her bachelor’s and master’s degrees. She pursued her calling in the field of social service. In my recent book, I recounted a conversation we had three decades ago. She was a case worker serving disadvantaged children at an agency located in a troubled inner-city neighborhood. “Mom why did you choose social work and why do you work in such a rough neighborhood?” Her response was profound and echoes the challenges of the day. “Son,” she replied, “most of the young people I serve are abused or neglected. They often feel as if their lives don’t matter and no one cares about them. Their lives do matter. They matter to God and they matter to me.” In that moment, I fully understood her sense of calling and care for the human community. I knew that their lives deeply mattered to her. She could feel their pain. The answers to my three questions that speak to matters of the heart are very clear to my mother. And, in her seemingly small act by one – her ability to listen with her head and heart – she has touched the lives of many. I hope that her living testimony encourages us all to do likewise.
We must never lose the capacity to feel one another’s pain.
Sincerely,
Shundrawn A. Thomas