sins of the fathers visited on the sons (and daughters)
As Father’s Day approaches I’ve been thinking of my own dad, deceased since 2003. I’ve been pondering what he would make of what is happening in the world these days. Staunchly, politically conservative, I think he would be very critical of all demonstrators, especially the looters. He wouldn’t be able to see past the anger, pain and desperation to the rightful demands for justice.
What goes into our prejudices and how do we escape them? My dad was born in 1918. When he was just two years old, he and his mother moved from Indianapolis to Kokomo to take care of her father who had suffered a severe stroke. They lived there for a year and a half. My great-grandfather, James Courtland “Court” Blacklidge was a prominent figure in Kokomo. In this photo, my dad James Courtland Wagner, is seen with one of his first playmates, James Courtland Reese (called Jimmie Court) who was the son of Court Blacklidge’s chauffeur. Jimmie Court’s father must have thought highly of his employer to name his son after him.
My dad always talked fondly of Jimmie Court. But as I look through the rest of the family photos, I realized what a segregated world my father traveled in. Every school class photo is a sea of white faces. In college he was part of an all-white fraternity, he was drafted into an all-white unit during World War II, he joined the Indianapolis Junior Chamber of Commerce, which was all-white, and he attended sales conferences for his work, where not one salesman was black or brown. My father lived in a very white world and, to my knowledge, never had another black friend. He had absolutely no working knowledge of the emotional toll that came with the black experience, unaware that he was part of systemic racism.
I won’t claim that my life has been all that different, except that I am more cognizant that I move in a world of white privilege. My social world and even my family are more diverse. I don’t think that my experience is unique. Though you and I may vary in the particulars of our lives, we probably share some of the same struggles surrounding institutional racism. I write about my own journey because I hope to challenge ALL of us to listen to the voices of the demonstrators and activists. They need to be heard. I need to hear them, because it is not enough to acknowledge the root of my prejudices. I need to be actively and diligently ANTI-racism.
In one summer of the early 1990s, I read “Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee”, a book that confronted the oppression of Native-Americans in the name of Manifest Destiny. Sitting in my cottage on the shore of Lake Michigan I wondered who had lived on this land before we had. I didn’t personally displace the tribes of the region, but someone of my race had. And I felt keenly aware that I was part of the ongoing problem of racism through sins of omission. But what to do about it? The first thing that I felt compelled to do was to repent for the sins of our fathers, as well as my own.
But that’s not enough. Since then I’ve tried to atone in small measure for being part of a racist system. I know that any residual bias needs to be continually unearthed and confronted. The “We Can’t Breathe” movement is giving me another opportunity to do so.
I wonder what my father would say about that. I doubt that he would recognize himself as part of the problem. I repent for that as well. And I remember a little boy who in the earliest days of his life had a little black friend for whom he had a sweet and innocent affection, before he was carefully taught to become ambivalent to the injustice in the world.
Love, Liz
My moment of repentance on the shores of Lake Michigan roughly coincided with our move to Los Angeles. Over the next couple of years Dave and I reconnected with a friend from college, the late actor Ron Glass. After the riots of 1992, Ron was looking for his own way to positively impact the African-American community of South-Central LA. Ron had been raised in the projects of Evansville, Indiana and because of his huge talent had escaped. But he knew that there were so many children of color who simply couldn’t find their way out. He learned of an after-school center in the crosshairs of several gang territories that offered children a safe haven, a place for tutoring and enrichment, and he became a huge supporter, eventually chairing their Board of Directors. And because of our friendship with Ron, he invited us to be part of the center’s support. Over the years we have given to expand the work of the center to include SAT prep and computer coding, and have seen the Wooten Center send its first kids to college. For most that was not even a dream of their parents’ generation.
One of the best things about the Wooten Center is that so many of the board members and administrators are black or brown. They’ve experienced the deep-seated issues personally, and they know what their community needs. They don’t need us to tell them. I can listen and learn from them. They are accomplished enough professionals to get it done. All they need from us is financial support and the encouragement of our presence. They need us to stand with them, not stand in their way.
If you are looking for a way to positively impact the problems in an under-served community, I encourage you to check out <wootencenter.org> to see what they are accomplishing in the heart of Los Angeles. I encourage you to listen and learn.
“You’ve got to be taught to hate and fear,
You've got to be taught from year to year,
It's got to be drummed in your dear little ear,
You've got to be carefully taught....
You've got to be taught before it's too late
Before you are six or seven or eight
To hate all the people your relatives hate
You've got to be carefully taught."
from “South Pacific” by Oscar Hammerstein II
“If you take away the yoke from your midst, the pointing of the finger, and speaking wickedness, if you pour yourself out for the hungry and satisfy the desire of the afflicted, then…you shall be called…the restorer of streets to dwell in.”
From Isaiah 58:9-12
