Twelve Lies That Hold America Captive

THE FIRST TIME I PERFORMED “We, Too,” I thought that I was going to explode. When the lights came up on the stage, it was like a pin was pulled from a grenade and I blew up. I have never felt I fit into the fabric of this country, though my ancestors picked the cotton that put it together. But I had neither articulated it before nor been validated by applause from an audience of hundreds of people from all parts of the world at the same time.

We, Too

My skin speaks volumes my mouth may never say

sends messages my mind may never know

writes pages a pen in my palm never wrote

my skin . . .

brown but called black—

a whip cracks my mental back

my head aches from self-hate

that I want to go away

My skin says,

I may have struggled but my grandmother definitely did.

some white man, somewhere

had an illegitimate, illegal kid

My cousins passed with green eyes and light skin

but my granddaddy dark,

walked up to doors and couldn’t get in . . .

he wanted to buy land in Southern Virginia

but couldn’t because of my skin

For some it’s a source of pride

for me, I find it hard to stay unashamed

as I’m asked are you Ghanaian, Dominican, or Haitian?

and my response disrespects my ancestors when I say, I’m just black.

Uttered from under a cloud of adversity, whispered from behind the shadow of struggle

I’m just black . . .

I want to say it with more something

but all I hear are Asian parents telling Asian daughters not to date me

older generations fighting inclinations not to hate me

They say once you go black you never go back

but that’s only half the fact,

once you go black you never go back because some white men won’t let you

I think black and I think pain

and I want so bad for my thoughts to change

but a world when I’m equal is just a dream

dreamt by a minority ruled by an indifferent majority

leaving me somewhere between radical Afrocentrism

or racial indifference with no ethnic identity at all . . .

Society won’t let me remember the Nat Turners or the Nat King Coles

because I just might find my pride, grab my ax, hack out a path to justice

all while singing we shall overcome. . . .

I must recall the slave in me

so I can fight for those minds that aren’t yet free

free to hope, free to dream

Yes we can, is the song that I sing

and I’ll keep singing until the world is singing with me

They don’t want me to remember the Martins or the Malcolms

because minds like mine start movements

Bunche, Banneker, Carver, Powell, Douglass,

Marshall, Ali, Angelou, Kersey, Washington, Wheatley,

Lewis, Walker, they are within me and I must remember . . .

Biko, Mandela, Aquino, Tubman, Truth—

I must remember the truth

that we must be measured by much more than our

levels of melanin

and our children won’t know our history unless we continue to tell them

that the greatest race is the human race and we must flock with runners like

Lincoln, Lennon, Locke, Gandhi, Tutu, Mead, living in one world, in one great country.

because we too, sing America.

We are dark, light, black, yellow, brown and white

all fighting for the amnesty of the mind

They send us to eat in the kitchen

When company comes,

But we laugh,

And eat well,

And grow strong.

Tomorrow,

we’ll be at the table

When company comes.

Nobody’ll dare

Say to us,

“Eat in the kitchen,”

Then.

Besides,

They’ll see how beautiful we are

And be ashamed—

we, too, are America.

This poem, inspired by Langston Hughes’s “I, Too,” highlights a particularly painful tension that my skin and blood embody. I inhabit a country my people were brought to, and now that we are no longer slaves we struggle to find a place to truly fit, or, maybe better, those who brought us here can’t agree on a place to put us. Yet amid all that my people have and continue to endure, I’m supposed to stand for its anthem and pledge allegiance.

I am sure that I am one man, but I don’t believe that the United States is one nation—nor do I believe that should be my highest hope or our greatest goal. This places me in firm opposition to white American folk religion and cements my place in the family of Jesus.

THE CALL FOR CONFORMITY

To affirm that America is one nation is to propose that I, an African American male, am valuable and belong in this country. And the same would have to be said of every person holding citizenship; they too must receive the same fair, just, and equal opportunity and treatment. But the past and present inequities make that point impossible to prove. There has never been a moment of my life when I felt that type of wholehearted, national inclusion. Instead, there was an insistence on editing my people’s history or excluding from it altogether.

I remember the look of the white father who threatened me in the ball pit when I was six years old at McDonald’s in South Hill, Virginia, after playfully hitting his daughter with a plastic ball. That’s the same look I received after my fifth-grade Christmas program at LaCrosse Elementary School when I hugged another white man’s daughter goodbye. The look of disapproval, disgust, and silent warning is with me to this day. When I was in eighth grade, a white female classmate said, “I think everyone should just stay with their own kind.” And in eleventh grade, I found out my friend’s stepfather violently beat his mother when he found out she had dated a black man. Familial disapproval, social rejection, and even violence were consequences for getting too close to people who looked like me.

I cannot remember a time when I didn’t think that if a woman chose to date or marry me, it wouldn’t mean giving up her family. And that was true for Priscilla when she chose to marry me. She had to be willing to commit a social, cultural, and economic sin, and join herself to a man with brown skin darkened by generations of sexual abuse and labor exploitation—the hallmarks of slavery. She had to be willing as a Chinese-Korean American woman to follow the Jesus of Scripture and his invitation to life in his kingdom, and resist the idol of WAFR that beckons her toward the best opportunities for life, liberty, and happiness. And the enduring beliefs and testimony of WAFR are that blackness certainly can’t and won’t lead to anything positive, sustainable, or better. Being seen as black is a step down, a step back, and a step off the ladder of America’s promise and the vision of most immigrant Chinese and Korean families. This race-based scale is well documented, well-defined, and well-established as the acceptable and promoted norm. Yet every true follower of Jesus must renounce this system and recognize every person as being made in the image of God and worthy of inclusion in the family of Jesus and a seat at our tables for dinner every night.

But in spite of all that, WAFR calls us to affirm that we are “one nation” and pledge allegiance to that false truth. In spite of racially biased sentencing, racial resegregation of school districts, and increased voter suppression, this false faith claims we are a large family with common goals, values, and destiny.1 And when that twisted reality is called into question, the powers of this world say we must at least honor those that protect the opportunity to be supposedly free. We see this in the hearty debate around protests in the United States today. And reading through dialogues and arguments by academics, athletes, politicians, activists, and Facebook users, it is safe to deduce that there is no acceptable way to protest and dispute the oneness that’s professed but doesn’t exist.

That’s because WAFR demands devotion to its goals and conformity to its perspective. And both of these demands—devotion and conformity—are dismissive, dishonest, destructive, and woefully inadequate to address humanity’s deepest needs.

When we resist the dominant collective reality and publicly disagree, we will be harassed online, as I and many others can attest. It also means the possibility of being assaulted verbally and physically, and losing our jobs and livelihoods. I remember the first time I was threatened. I was in North Carolina speaking against labor and sexual slavery in a room with one hundred people. Someone wrote on one of the response envelopes that I should never come back, and if I knew what was good for me I would stop altogether. Threats and intimidation are not new, special, or one-offs. This is evidenced on a wider scale by the assault of a protester at the urging of President Trump in 2016, and Trump’s words to NFL players who refused to stand during the national anthem to protest police brutality.2

James Franklin McGraw sucker punched Rakeem Jones in the face at a Trump campaign rally in Fayetteville, North Carolina, on March 9, 2016. Jones was protesting at the rally and being escorted out by police when McGraw stepped out of his seat and punched Jones in the face. The police then threw Jones to the ground, placed him in handcuffs, and removed him from the arena. McGraw went back to his seat unbothered, unrepentant, and received a pat of approval from the woman next to him. Immediately after the rally McGraw responded to a series of questions about whether or not he liked the rally and if the protester deserved the punch. McGraw said, “You bet I liked it. . . . Knocking the hell out of that big mouth. We don’t know who he is, but we know he’s not acting like an American. . . . He deserved it. The next time we see him, we might have to kill him.”3

There were polar opposite responses to this incident. They included condemnation by some and celebration by others. This highlights the stark contrast between those who feel at home in America, those who feel they are losing the home they love, and those trying to make a home in the United States. These sentiments have always been present. America may claim and aspire to unity and oneness, but the lived experiences of those who reside here show the opposite is true. The Trump campaign and presidency brought these divisions out of the shadows and into the light and he used them for his political advantage, but these divisions have been here all along.

Throughout the political primary and 2016 campaign season, and consistently in the wake of Trump’s presidency as of this writing, the threat of retribution for withholding faithful support for, or offering critique of, WAFR America has been standard operating procedure. This tactic was used again on September 23, 2017, when Trump tweeted, “Wouldn’t you love to see one of these NFL owners, when somebody disrespects our flag, to say, ‘Get that son of a bitch off the field right now? Out! He’s fired. He’s fired!’”4

Nearly three people per day were killed by police in 2017.5 A disproportionate number of these killings occurred within the African American community. And African American men make up the majority of the National Football League. The willingness of the Trump administration and wealthy owners to inflict more damage is profoundly troubling. What Trump is doing, though, is not new, unique, or exclusively Republican. Those who claim to be on the political left of American politics engage in the same type of behavior with the same rigor, intensity, and real-life consequences.

Matthew Hutson offers valuable insight in his article “Why Liberals Aren’t as Tolerant as They Think.”6 At Middlebury College, white supremacist Charles Murray was shouted down by students and activists in March 2016. He is most famous for his 1994 book The Bell Curve, which links socioeconomic status to race and gender.

Prior to that, journalist Wes Enzinna chronicled the infamous clash between antiracist groups and a gathering of white supremacists in 2012.

At lunchtime on May 19, 2012, 18 masked men and women shouldered through the front door of the Ashford House restaurant in Tinley Park, Illinois, a working-class suburb of Chicago. Some diners mistook the mob for armed robbers. Others thought they might be playing a practical joke. But Steven Speers, a stalactite-bearded 33-year-old who had just sat down for appetizers at a white nationalist meet and greet, had a hunch who they were. The gang filing in with baseball bats, police batons, hammers, and nunchucks were members of Anti-Racist Action (ARA) and the Hoosier Anti-Racist Movement (HARM), two groups dedicated to violently confronting white supremacists.7

Enzinna drills down into the backgrounds of those leading this antiracist movement, drawing clear pictures of the diverse ethnic communities these white men were exposed to but also the poverty of opportunity and lack of identity that surrounded most of them. Additionally, in the article “Left Hook” Enzinna traces the violent back and forths between radical left and radical right groups, which include the shootings and stabbings of neo-Nazis and Klansmen decades ago as well as protesters of waging war against white supremacy stretching from pre-World War I to today.8 We cannot be one with those we are attempting to harm or destroy.

FAITH AND ALLEGIANCE

WAFR is different from Christianity as practiced in the early church. WAFR does not require followers to reflect, confess, repent, or seek justice as determined by God. Instead, WAFR demands an unwavering commitment to maintaining humanity’s status quo of working for identity and inclusion based on a scale that includes race, gender, class, status, and education. The Pledge of Allegiance reads: “I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.”9

WAFR necessitates faith, hope, and trust in the United States though deep unacknowledged and unresolved divisions persist and justice for all has never happened. Whether it is the lines between the rich and the poor, men and women, ethnic groups, or political and religious factions in this country, the appeal stands that “we are all Americans” (one nation). And since that’s the case, we must ascribe to a particular set of ideals and beliefs that if wholeheartedly adopted will bring about the change we believe in and the utopia that we were made for.

In modern history there is not a leader more capable of articulating the gospel of America as the hope for the world than Barack Obama. His speech on February 5, 2008, was an epic invitation to a divided people to reconcile without seeking or receiving Christlike justice, to put bitterness aside without grieving pain, and to heal without corporate acknowledgement of the hurt of so many.10 In the midst of a contentious race with then Senator Hillary Clinton, he began these remarks by naming specific cross-sections of society traditionally at odds with one another and calling those assembled to a collective vision of a more open future with life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness available to everyone.

Obama’s speech painted a picture of America that minimized the deep fractures of society while drawing a clear line to the possibility of a better world. Of course, he did not denounce or reject the present system, but instead suggested the system’s true values were not being lived out to their full potential. Therefore, we should double down, join him, and work harder in the democratic, generous, melting pot where we all experience the freedom fought for by so many brave men and women before us. Obama asserted that this moment, this people, and this country are unique, and American’s certainly are up to the task of making a better world for ourselves and our children.

In reality, the United States is a far cry from being united, and Obama and others would certainly acknowledge that fact in 2016. But this disunity has always been true. The United States is “one nation” only in opinion and perspective, not reality. It’s more accurate that we are the divided states of America in a united state of amnesia, choosing not to remember what’s happened to pursue the unity we crave.

We work for something, and there is the illusion of progress. And a valiant effort to end conflict and suffering as quickly as possible feels better than to merely accept it. This is especially true in a society that worships work and longs for a hero. The United States seems to believe that if we as a people just try harder to be happy, create our own best life now, and fight to protect the freedoms we supposedly have, oneness will materialize. That hasn’t proved to be true and never will be.

ONE KINGDOM

Everyone under the reign of WAFR is judged by their level of productivity. Since work is how people are measured, overwork becomes the norm. Thus, we are too busy seeking to excel to reflect on the fruits of our labors or the lack of it. WAFR rolls out a red carpet for what appears to be all comers, regardless of background. That welcome mat quickly turns into a treadmill where some are embraced immediately and others are not, but every person must work to keep up, keep their place, or be left behind. Contrast that with living in the family of God. The way of Jesus is Sabbath rest, daily rhythms, and delight in him, because then we see him and ourselves rightly. The disunity comes to the surface, the limits of this world are clear, and our need for something more is revealed before us. The idol of WAFR won’t fill it, but the kingdom of God does. Slowing down to see the life and death of my mom, I saw this fully.

Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina opens with the line, “All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.”11 And that is true of my family as well. When my mom died of cancer and I took the podium after my two brothers to finish her eulogy, I decided to do a call to faith in Jesus. My mother worked her whole life knowing that she lived in a country that didn’t want her. She longed for a kingdom that had not yet come in full. And those gathered in the room would never see her again unless they knew her Savior.

Yes, she was part of the VFW Women’s Auxiliary, but they were not of one mind. Yes, she was part of Mecklenburg and Halifax County Public Schools, but they were not of one heart. Yes, she was part of the Walton-Allen family, but we were not all of one hope. Yes, all of the people in that room loved her in some way as best as they could, but their love and best wishes for her did not mean they were of one faith. The oneness that my mother longed for is the oneness that Jesus prayed and laid down his life for as recorded in John 17:1-24.

I believe Ma received in part in her life, and in full in her death the oneness Jesus prayed for. And her experience of joining with God will be experienced by every follower of Jesus, myself included. This full adoption into the family of God shatters any other system of identification, value, and dignity. This obliteration of division includes racial hierarchy, nation-state, and status based on our individual work, effort, or affiliation. Over and above all the walls and lines that were used to exclude my mom from an education, economic security, and certain neighborhoods sits a Savior at the right hand of God who laid down his life and rose from the grave. And by his power she will be raised to live with Him. In Christ, all dividing walls of hostility were brought down and overcome. What WAFR promises but can never deliver is realized in full for those who opt out of the pursuit of their own life, liberty, and happiness, and dive headfirst into the grace of God.

Obama was not able to lead us to the reality he spoke of because he was not the Messiah. He was not who we were waiting for and neither are we. The truth is that the country he cast vision for doesn’t exist because no country, including America, is a replacement for the kingdom of God. And thus the present (or coming) reconciliation and oneness claimed for America is a false gospel, an untruth, and not good news to anyone. This type of endless work for identity and place leads to weariness, unfulfillment, cynicism, and spiritual death.

America’s false unity is an expensive pursuit that the false perception of American togetherness can never afford. Unprocessed oppression cost the colonizer just as much if not more than those colonized because both groups lose their humanity, purpose, and identity. White supremacy deifies white people and demonizes all others. Both are acts of dehumanization.

Our current culture lives in the shadow of these divisions, and those in power are unwilling to bring them into the light. Thus the lie endures, so the oppressed and the oppressors who refuse to face the pain and conflict for freedom in Jesus remain in darkness.

On a relational level the lie that “we are one nation” is particularly harmful because it dismisses the history of the many Native nations present in the United States. Additionally, it paints imperialists, human traffickers, explorers, refugees, slaves, and true immigrants with one broad, subjective brush. Systemically, it is painfully inaccurate to say we are one nation in the wake of continued educational inequality, segregation by race and class, mass incarceration, and other ills sustained by our inability to reconcile our historical divisions.

Jesus said we will be known by the fruit we bear (Matthew 7:15-20). It is impossible for bad seeds to bear good fruit, and the seeds of this country are exploitative, dehumanizing, and oppressive. Therefore, neither this country’s founders nor its citizens today hold the character and capacity necessary to atone for our collective brokenness or to reconcile us to ourselves, our history, and creation. WAFR would have us believe that we can deliver this reality for ourselves by ourselves. But Paul says the opposite:

For it is by grace [God’s remarkable compassion and favor drawing you to Christ] that you have been saved [actually delivered from judgment and given eternal life] through faith. And this [salvation] is not of yourselves [not through your own effort], but it is the [undeserved, gracious] gift of God; not as a result of [your] works [nor your attempts to keep the Law], so that no one will [be able to] boast or take credit in any way [for his salvation]. (Ephesians 2:8-9 AMP)

Furthermore, when we minimize our differences in relationships, we are unable to celebrate the distinctive gifts God gave to all ethnicities, cultures, and backgrounds. In Genesis, Acts, and Revelation, we see the beloved community God created, began again, and ultimately brings to himself. We are many nations in the United States, and that, according to Scripture, is not just a good thing but how it was meant to be.

Humanity’s common denominator is that we are all made in the image of God (Genesis 1:27). This, of course, includes Gentiles. In Acts 10 God speaks clearly to Peter through a vision. In it God compels Peter, the rock on which God will build his church, not to call any person unclean that God has made clean. Therefore, all who choose to deny themselves, take up their cross, and follow him (Matthew 16:24-25) are adopted into the family of God. Finally, in Revelation 7 we see every tribe, tongue, and nation joined together not by political ideology, skin color, or economic status but by relationship with the Son of God.

According to Scripture, the oneness with God and others that we long for is innate in every person. God confers to us an identity all can fully embrace when we become his children through Christ. The kingdom of God is an eternal, unchanging reality of unity under the rule and reign of a just, loving Father. WAFR calls us to be an idolatrous nation with liberty and justice defined by ourselves and imposed on others. But Christ invites us into God’s family with liberty and justice defined by him and an opportunity to invite others. Under the idol of America, our identity must be earned. Under God, our identity is given.

WAFR distances itself from those who (1) don’t fit the mold of perfection, (2) resist the status quo, (3) embody difference, and (4) don’t seek to meet the social standards of dominant culture. We see this is in families, churches, and institutions that shut their doors to teenage mothers, ostracize those with mental illness, fear those who are LGBTQIA+, and shun those who struggle with addiction.

And those are the people Jesus is closest to. He comes close to all those who are broken, imperfect, and alone. He chooses solidarity with the rejected. He does not promise hope and change, but is hope and change itself. We cannot be the hope we’ve been waiting for and trust in the hope of Christ at the same time. Either he is the hope of the world or we are. Therefore, to claim to be one with the idol of America and to be one with Christ is a lie. To choose Christ is to choose truth and life.

My mother chose life with God as she was leaving this world. I know this because after not speaking for nearly forty-eight hours and being immersed in the singing of Negro spirituals and hymns, she finished the chorus of a song adapted from Psalm 127. The national anthem, the Pledge of Allegiance, or the Preamble to the Declaration of Independence weren’t etched on her heart or the first things that came to mind as cancer ravaged her body. Her last words were the words of God and praises to him:

The Lord is my light and my salvation

Whom shall I fear?

You just wait on the Lord and be of good courage

He will strengthen your heart

In the times of trouble, He will hide me

The Lord is my light and my salvation

Whom shall I fear?12

This is a picture of a life oriented around the love of Jesus and abiding in Christ, not WAFR. A heart, mind, and spirit cannot bow down to both.