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Ferguson

Weaving the Threads of Justice

Weaving the Threads of Justice

Ten years ago I went to Baton Rouge and other Katrina-affected areas in a response to calls to assist people who had made it out of New Orleans alive. I went to help; I could not help but see and listen and be changed by the experience. 

A few years ago I went to Arizona to help, to bear witness to the conditions faced by people who cross into the U.S. through the desert hills. I went and saw for myself what people go through trying to get here without “papers”, how they are treated in the courts, how they are discarded/repatriated to their native countries, how they escape.  

A few weeks ago I joined in the one-year anniversary Commemoration of the Ferguson Uprising in St Louis County, Missouri. I hoped, as I believe so many others did, to move the change process forward, to effect change in the culture that tolerates, even promotes police violence, especially against young Black and Brown men. 

Let your anger guide you to beloved action: Join me in Ferguson

Let your anger guide you to beloved action: Join me in Ferguson

I’m angry. I’m not even sure that’s a big enough word for what I’m feeling. The rage is deep, so pervasive at times it threatens to paralyze me into inaction. I struggle against the threat of being rendered immobile by this anger every day.  

This week, I braced myself for the release of another video of a heinous police shooting of an unarmed black man, this time in Cincinnati, Ohio. I must fight with every fiber of my being to stay in my body, to stay connected to my feelings and ground myself, bracing for another wave of grief and pain that feeds my deeper rage.

That’s why on August 7-10, I am responding to the call of leaders in Ferguson to show up and take collective action for racial justice on the anniversary of the Ferguson uprising. I invite you to join me. Click here to view the invitation from local and regional clergy in Greater St. Louis and the MidAmerica region. 

My People of Faith: Will We Answer?

My People of Faith: Will We Answer?

When I was nine, a white UU adult told me after the service he loved that my black family worshipped at “his” church. “It shows how far your people have come.”

That confused me—I thought the folks at church were my people.

I am a proud, lifelong Unitarian Universalist. Some days I sing Spirit of Life to myself as I make breakfast. Coming of Age and YRUU (youth group) summer camps brought me ever-mingled comfort and stress. I am also black. The struggle for black freedom has long held a grip on my soul.

Growing up, I learned that Unitarians and Universalists traveled from near and far to Selma, Alabama in 1965, answering Dr. King’s call for clergy to join him in a march to end segregation. It was one of our young movement’s finest—and most tragic—hours. The Rev. James Reeb answered Dr. King’s call; just after arriving in Alabama, he and a small group were attacked. His companions survived; the young, white Unitarian minister succumbed to brutal injuries.