To the Churches That Raised Me.

Yesterday, Jacob Blake was shot seven times in the back by a police officer in broad daylight, in front of his three children. Today, I am bracing myself for what I know is coming, for what came in response to George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Elijah McClain, and Ahmaud Arbery: posts from those who I sat next to in church attempting to justify or explain why a victim deserved to die at the hands of police.

Personal details of the victim are dredged up in a means to justify their murder. "Should have" comments are crafted to explain how the victim should have acted to avoid being murdered. Videos of good police officers just doing their job are shared to remind us that we're talking about a few bad apples here. Videos of people of color who happen to align with your viewpoint (aka tokenism) are shared. Poorly made memes with absurd claims circulate to "share if you agree." Out-of-context bible verses are offered. Statuses are written equating the very real hurts* you have personally survived to our nation's history of violence against Black and Brown bodies.

It knocks the air out of me. every. single. time.

• When I see you respond to news and videos of a victim being murdered by police with what they should have done or not done to avoid being murdered.

• When I see you care more about property damage than violence against our Black siblings, or use riots as a reason Black people are to blame for their own oppression.

• When I hear you say "well, it's only __% of Black lives" or "more white people are shot by the police**" in an effort to minimize the exorbitant loss of Black lives to police brutality.

I am left trying to piece together when you stopped meaning what I thought you meant by loving neighbors, seeking justice, and walking in the way of Jesus.

I am left asking if you changed or if I misunderstood.

I am left wondering if I left you or if you left me.

And that is heartbreaking.

I have been mourning the loss of who I believed you to be for the last four years. I am allowing myself space to grieve the loss of the one place I thought I would always belong. Because it isn't a difference of opinion, it is a difference in fundamental values. It is learning that to love you meant not questioning you, and I have so many questions.

You should not need to be convinced that Black people deserve so much more than simply mattering. Black people deserve JOY and safety and fullness. They deserve to not have to wonder if their children will return that night. They deserve to be treated the way we have been treated our whole lives. Maybe that's why we don't see our privilege — the same way a fish doesn't see water.

It is easier to become outraged at Black people's responses to oppression than to examine the ways we have been complicit in and benefitted from the same systems that have oppressed Black people. We do not get to decide what is an appropriate response to traumas we have not experienced, to traumas we have inflicted. Dismantling that system means actively choosing actions that do not place us in a position of advantage or superiority. It feels counter-intuitive. It feels uncomfortable. And what a privilege it is to have almost always been more concerned with our feelings and comfort than our safety and well-being.

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* Your pain is valid. I am sorry for the ways you have been mistreated. You did not deserve that to happen to you.

** That is wrong. Let's care about this too.