Katdish.net

On Monday, June 22, 2015, Governor Nikki Haley of South Carolina called for the removal of a Confederate battle flag from the statehouse grounds. I’m sharing a portion of her speech here, but you can read the entire transcript here.

We know that bringing down the Confederate flag will not bring back the nine kind souls that were taken from us, nor rid us of the hate and bigotry that drove a monster through the doors of Mother Emmanuel that night. Some divisions are bigger than a flag. The evil we saw last Wednesday comes from a place much deeper, much darker. But we are not going to allow this symbol to divide us any longer. The fact that people are choosing to use it as a sign of hate is something we cannot stand. The fact that it causes pain to so many is enough to move it from the Capitol grounds. It is, after all, a Capitol that belongs to all of us.

There are many who will say that removing the confederate battle flag from the statehouse grounds should have been done long before now, that it should not take the racially motivated murder of nine people in a house of worship to move people to act. I would be among those people. But I don’t believe it’s too little, too late. I’d like to think it’s the first step on a very long journey.

There are others who will say that the confederate flag does not represent racism to them, but rather a sense of pride and the history of the south. I respect that. I believe that. And I’m beyond weary of the PC police decrying anything and everything remotely traditional or faith-based being offensive, sexist, racist or homophobic. I get it. I really do.

But this is different.

Much like the Swastika, which once represented good fortune and well being, it has come to represent something deeply painful for millions of people, and it’s time to move forward.

Benjamin Watson expresses the heart of the matter more eloquently than I ever could when he writes,

“Displaying the confederate flag is not inherently wrong. This is not NECESSARILY an issue on which we can take a moral stance. It is not a simple right or wrong dilemma. I understand that for some, the confederate battle flag does not evoke sentiments of racism or supremacy; it is simply a tribute to their heritage, ancestors, and homeland. For others, including the killer, it means much more and for others it is a hiding place for passive racism and group “identity.” It is without a doubt, however, a litmus test, exposing our willingness to deny our liberty, our freedom, to fly the flag of our choice, for the sake of offending our countrymen whose SHARED HERITAGE is conversely stained with death, injustice, rape, terror and inferiority.”

Mr. Watson also shares a story of being new to South Carolina and visiting a teammate’s home his sophomore year in high school. Frank, a white offensive guard on his football team had quickly befriended him, welcoming him as the new guy when others weren’t so quick to do so. Upon arriving in Frank’s bedroom, he was shocked to see a confederate flag hung above his bed. Watson explained what the flag represented to him–how painful it was. The next time he visited, the flag has been removed. Because Frank cared about their friendship, cared about Ben, he “…empathetically removed the offensive banner on my behalf and maybe for the first time heard how painful that symbol could be”.

That is a great example of an open and honest conversation with results that last a lifetime. Ben and Frank are still close friends to this day.

But what of people whose feelings, while you might not intentionally offend, offend all the same?

My parents divorced when I was 11 years old. My father quickly remarried and he and his new wife and stepdaughter moved to Southern California. This was at a time when divorce was not nearly as prevalent as it is today. Needless to say, we were all devastated. My mother was granted custody of the four of us–that was never at issue. My dad just wanted to start over. We did visit him out in California during the summer, though.

I remember enjoying the beautiful weather, ogling over all the surfer dudes and spending time with my dad. But it was also awkward. His new wife was nice to me, and his stepdaughter was pretty cool. Still, I missed my mom. I suppose I talked about her without realizing that my new stepmother didn’t want to hear all about how great my dad’s ex-wife was. In my defense, I was an 11 year old child without malicious intent. I won’t say I was happy that my dad left my mom and his four children to marry her, but I didn’t hate her. Apparently, she thought otherwise. One morning at breakfast, I was sharing a memory about some family trip we took with my dad when my stepmother began screaming at me, “Will you just SHUT UP about your mother? Do you think we flew you out here so that I could hear you go on and on about HER?” I was completely shocked. Not only did her words sting, but her accusations were, to my young mind, completely false. It never occurred to me that talking about my mom would be seen as an insult to her. I just missed my mom.

Many years later, I would come to realize that all that venom she spewed at me wasn’t just about me. She had her own doubts, insecurities and pain. Had I known then what I know now, I would not have talked about my mother when she was around.

Her and my father have been divorced for over 30 years. If I saw her today, I wouldn’t even recognize her. But if I did, I would apologize for what I did. Just because the hurt wasn’t intentional doesn’t mean I didn’t hurt her.

Now I know better.

And when we know better, we do better.

South Carolina now knows better, so they’re doing better. Not to prove or disprove a point. Not to choose winners or losers, but to come together as a community. That’s what I call doing the right thing for the right reasons.

*****

Editorial Note: I am not in any way suggesting that you don’t have the right to display a confederate flag, even if others find it offensive. Personally, I’m sick and tired of virtual strangers telling how I should feel and why. You might even display a confederate flag because it’s offensive. The First Amendment gives you that right. Others may argue that doing so equates to hate speech, but it’s not against the law to hate. As an American citizen, you have the right to free speech, even if it’s offensive. And contrary to popular belief on many college campuses these days, no where in the Constitution does it state that anyone has the inalienable right NOT to be offended. This post isn’t about politics, it’s about empathy.

image from multimediaseattle.org

The above photo depicts a brutal form of execution known as necklacing, carried out by forcing a rubber tire, filled with petrol, around a victim’s chest and arms, and setting it on fire. The victim may take up to 20 minutes to die, suffering severe burns in the process. The practice became a common method of lethal lynching during disturbances in South Africa in the 1980s and 1990s.

Photojournalist Kevin Carter was the first to photograph a public execution by necklacing in South Africa in the mid-1980s. He later spoke of the images:

“I was appalled at what they were doing. I was appalled at what I was doing. But then people started talking about those pictures… then I felt that maybe my actions hadn’t been at all bad. Being a witness to something this horrible wasn’t necessarily such a bad thing to do.”

He went on to say:

“After having seen so many necklacings on the news, it occurs to me that either many others were being performed (off camera as it were) and this was just the tip of the iceberg, or that the presence of the camera completed the last requirement, and acted as a catalyst in this terrible reaction. The strong message that was being sent, was only meaningful if it were carried by the media. It was not more about the warning (others) than about causing one person pain. The question that haunts me is ‘would those people have been necklaced, if there was no media coverage?”

(Source: Wikipedia: Necklacing)

In March 1993 Carter made a trip to Sudan. The sound of soft, high-pitched whimpering near the village of Ayod attracted Carter to an emaciated Sudanese toddler. The girl had stopped to rest while struggling to a feeding center, whereupon a vulture had landed nearby. He said that he waited about 20 minutes, hoping that the vulture would spread its wings. It didn’t. Carter snapped the haunting photograph and chased the vulture away. (Source: Wikipedia: Kevin Carter)

image courtesy of photobucket.com

It is unknown what happened to this young girl after this photo was taken. What is widely known is that Kevin Carter won a Pulitzer Prize for this photograph, presented to him on May 23, 1994 at Columbia University.

On July 27, 1994 Carter drove to the Braamfontein Spruit river, near the Field and Study Centre, an area where he used to play as a child, and took his own life by taping one end of a hose to his pickup truck’s exhaust pipe and running the other end to the passenger-side window. He died of carbon monoxide poisoning at the age of 33. Portions of Carter’s suicide note read:

“I am depressed … without phone … money for rent … money for child support … money for debts … money!!! … I am haunted by the vivid memories of killings and corpses and anger and pain … of starving or wounded children, of trigger-happy madmen, often police, of killer executioners…I have gone to join Ken [recently deceased colleague Ken Oosterbroek] if I am that lucky.”

This is certainly not a new story, but it’s something that’s been on my heart lately. Photographers, journalists and writers give voice to suffering and chaos. Hopefully in an attempt to draw the world’s attention to it, thereby calling others to action. But in that moment and the moments immediately following, what are they doing about it? Would Kevin Carter be alive today if he had set down that camera and come to the aid of that little girl? Would the darkness have consumed him had he chosen to be a light instead of a neutral observer? I just don’t know.

I’ve said before that one of the occupational hazards of being a writer is that you’re always writing. Every situation becomes a potential story. But I never want to come to a place where what I put on paper becomes more important than inserting myself into the bigger story of life. Especially if by abandoning my mental pen and notebook I might have a hand in changing a tragedy into a happily ever after, or at least an after.

“Some people confuse acceptance with apathy, but there’s all the difference in the world. Apathy fails to distinguish between what can and what cannot be helped; acceptance makes that distinction. Apathy paralyzes the will-to-action; acceptance frees it by relieving it of impossible burdens.” – Arthur Gordon

“By far the most dangerous foe we have to fight is apathy – indifference from whatever cause, not from a lack of knowledge, but from carelessness, from absorption in other pursuits, from a contempt bred of self satisfaction” – William Osler

The following is the closing argument from the movie “A Time to Kill”. If you’ve seen the movie or read the book, you know how it ends. If you haven’t, please take a few minutes to view this scene.

Based upon personal experience, I would answer the question, “Are we inherently prejudiced?” in the affirmative. I consider myself very open and accepting of other nationalities, races and even people of faiths outside my own. I think I can honestly say that if one of my children fell in love with, and chose to marry someone of a different race or nationality, it truly would not bother me. However, born of a caucasian father and a Japanese mother, I believe my experiences and my viseral reactions are colored by my heritage.

We’ve all seen commercials asking us to help feed, clothe, save the children of the world. Based on your own heritage, is your reaction the same regardless of whether the children are filmed in Africa? South America? Asia? North America? If I’m being honest, my emotions are triggered more by seeing the starving Asian child than the other children in the same circumstances. It’s not intentional, I’m not unaffected by the other children. But something is stirred in me on a deeper level because I sense a connection.

What about the news story about the child that was abducted, missing and/or murdered?

Does your heart ache equally for this child:

As it does for this one?:

This is not intended to be a “Guilt” post. I’m honestly curious if you have similar experiences.

If man is made in God’s image, then what exactly does that mean? If Jesus were to return to earth tomorrow, would it matter what He looked like? I’m certainly not a biblical scholar, but I’d be willing to bet a dollar that the historical Jesus didn’t have blue eyes and sandy blond hair. I imagine he looked very much like someone you would think twice about sitting next to on an airplane.

I guess my point is, if we’re to love one another as we are commanded to do, perhaps we need to take the time to learn from each other’s cultural experiences. I will never truly know what it’s like to be discriminated against because I am black or latino, but I do understand what it feels like to be treated differently because of the color of my skin and the subtle differences in my facial features. Does this make me more sensitive and empathetic to the injustices inflicted on others around the world? I certainly hope so….