Starting the New Year with a New Dream

What is your dream for the world in 2014 and your part in it? Wisdom from the incredible 98 year old activist, author, philosopher and national treasure Grace Lee Boggs.

We are shaking the world with a new dream from Sacred Resonance on Vimeo.

Musings About The Freedom Riders

Fifty years ago this month, black and white activists risked their lives by taking interstate buses and sitting where they wanted in them; they boarded them in Washington D.C. and went into the racially segregated South. The Freedom Riders were taught not to use violence to defend themselves before the trip began, and as a result made a significant impact on the early days of the Civil Rights Movement in the United States. When I realized that it had been fifty years since the Freedom Rides, I made sure to watch television programs and read anything I could about them. I am impressed and humbled by the bravery and endurance of the civil rights activists who were beaten and almost killed by mobs in Birmingham, Anniston, and Montgomery Alabama. I also wonder about myself; if I was of age in 1961, would I have been inspired to become a Freedom Rider? Would I have had the fortitude to face the vengeance of the angry Ku Klux Klan (KKK) and other racists? Hearing the stories of the Freedom Riders, who recently commemorated their 50th anniversary with some college students by taking buses and re-tracing the same routes, reminds me of the human capacity of true greatness.

I would like to think I would join the cause, if I lived during this time, even though I would have been very frightened. The evils of racial segregation are intolerable to me, so I think this would have been a strong enough reason to overcome my fears. At the same time, I may have been dissuaded by my Mother’s feelings about my safety. Facing angry mobs of people and violence at their hands would change me forever, but perhaps this would be a good thing in the long run, especially in the years after the Civil Rights Movement. The bottom line is that I will never know what it was like for the Freedom Riders, but I can remember their struggles and triumphs.

Do you ever wonder what you would have done had you lived during the Freedom Rides, or other events like them?

Making Sense of Violence

I am bewildered and saddened when I hear news reports about horrific acts of violence, particularly when the perpetrators know their victims. I always wonder what possesses someone to attack and even kill another human being, no matter how angry he or she might be. When I heard about the latest workplace shooting that killed nine and wounded two people in Connecticut, I thought about my life. Sure, I have known quite a few people that were cruel and mean to me, but none of them made so angry that I wanted to physically hurt them, or end their lives. I just never want to see them again, and this world is big enough so that can happen.

Journalists are already reporting about the possible motives behind the crime, which include racial bias, harassment, and being fired, with the latter being the catalyst for the tragic murder/suicide. There are obviously many more reasons that are far too complex for the media to cover, but it is obvious that the man felt so desperate to make his point that he used violence towards himself and the people he worked with. Was it the prospect of being unemployed in this economy, the rage of being harassed because of race, the fragility of his self-esteem as a human being, or all of the above that caused him to snap? Most of us can agree that the severity of violence was not justified. Even if some or all of the people who were killed and injured by the gunman were/are racist jerks, they did not deserve what they got. My seventh grade teacher was one the most disagreeable bigots I have ever met in my life, but ending her life in a blaze of gunfire? No way!

We cannot operate under the assumption that something like this will never happen to us or anyone we know. I believe that being more civil to one another, following our instincts, and taking action when needed are all important preventative measures, especially in schools and work environments.

What are your thoughts on the matter?

Colorblind Love

I am not a big fan of Hollywood films today; I’m usually the last one to know what the top box-office hits are in the movie theaters at any given time. Still, when I saw the trailer for The Blind Side, which opens this Friday, I was truly moved. The film is based on the life of Michael Oher, a young African American man who rose from homelessness and abuse with the support of a well-to-do family, and how their love, encouragement, and his determination led him to the NFL. It is one of the movies I will see in a theater, and I’m hoping it will be worth the money.

When I read some online reactions to the trailer and Oher’s story, I was floored. The fact is that he was taken in and adopted by a white family, and this really angers many people. I just don’t get the racial negativity; with all my heart, I believe that love can be colorblind, especially when it comes to parents and children. I hope to adopt in the future, and no one is going to stop me from adopting a child because of race.

Even though attitudes about race and adoption have changed, there are those who still believe that adopted children are loved less than biological ones. Many people are also dubious when discussing how celebrities like Angelina Jolie and Madonna have popularized international adoptions, which I can understand to a certain extent. There are many American children in the foster care system who need homes, but they have familial and emotional baggage (depending on their ages and circumstances) that many can't (or won't) handle. Those who do adopt want an infant or small child; older children are usually overlooked. With these prevailing attitudes, it’s hard for many to comprehend how Oher’s adoptive family could have considered including an older African American teenager in their lives, especially one with a troubled family history. I am not one of those people.

What are your thoughts on interracial adoption?

The Times That Haven't Changed*

The following was originally posted on Oct. 6, 2008. It is being re-posted as part of our CHICKS ROCK! Holiday series.


I recently had a long conversation with a friend about relationships, specifically interracial ones. This friend is a young white man who’s in a long-term relationship with a woman of color. They’re bizarrely compatible, totally in love, and now planning to get married. Suddenly, a flock of doubters have emerged out of the woodwork – his family and friends, advising him against taking this particular plunge.

It continues to surprise me that in this time and place it is still so hard for some people to accept interracial marriages. My parents have spoken about various encounters they had in the 1970s, when their relationship began. Back then, it was still unusual to see a black man and a white woman walking hand in hand. Somehow, I had come to believe that times had changed.

My friend said his family claimed to be worried about the struggles he, his wife and their (hypothetical) biracial children might face in the future. They thought he was setting himself up for an unnecessarily difficult life. Devastated by their lack of support, my friend called me, looking for me to tell him that it would all be okay. He asked if I thought his engagement was a bad idea, and if I felt my life had been made more difficult because I am biracial.

It hurts me a little that these questions have to be asked, though I understand why they are. I answered in the only way I could. Being biracial has certainly affected me and shaped my life into what it is today. It’s impossible to list the ways it has made me different, because I’ve never experienced the world from within any other skin. But I don’t believe that any of those differences are bad, or something to be avoided.

Every relationship has challenges. This we know for sure. So why are the challenges faced by interracial couples perceived to be worse than those of any other couple? Why are they perceived to be avoidable? What is the supposed solution: just marry someone else? It's hard enough to find one person to love and be loved by.

I hope that as a society, someday we will be able to value each other’s happiness over our own fears, and to affirm love, in whatever form it may come, over prejudice.

What would you have said, if a friend called you with these questions?

The Times That Haven't Changed

I recently had a long conversation with a friend about relationships, specifically interracial ones. This friend is a young white man who’s in a long-term relationship with a woman of color. They’re bizarrely compatible, totally in love, and now planning to get married. Suddenly, a flock of doubters have emerged out of the woodwork – his family and friends, advising him against taking this particular plunge.

It continues to surprise me that in this time and place it is still so hard for some people to accept interracial marriages. My parents have spoken about various encounters they had in the 1970s, when their relationship began. Back then, it was still unusual to see a black man and a white woman walking hand in hand. Somehow, I had come to believe that times had changed.

My friend said his family claimed to be worried about the struggles he, his wife and their (hypothetical) biracial children might face in the future. They thought he was setting himself up for an unnecessarily difficult life. Devastated by their lack of support, my friend called me, looking for me to tell him that it would all be okay. He asked if I thought his engagement was a bad idea, and if I felt my life had been made more difficult because I am biracial.

It hurts me a little that these questions have to be asked, though I understand why they are. I answered in the only way I could. Being biracial has certainly affected me and shaped my life into what it is today. It’s impossible to list the ways it has made me different, because I’ve never experienced the world from within any other skin. But I don’t believe that any of those differences are bad, or something to be avoided.

Every relationship has challenges. This we know for sure. So why are the challenges faced by interracial couples perceived to be worse than those of any other couple? Why are they perceived to be avoidable? What is the supposed solution: just marry someone else? It is hard enough to find one person to love and be loved by.

I hope that as a society, someday we will be able to value each other’s happiness over our own fears, and to affirm love, in whatever form it may come, over prejudice.

What would you have said, if a friend called you with these questions?

Breathing Together

The circle of friends I formed in college was extraordinarily diverse. We had Vietnamese, Filipino, Jewish, Muslim, Christian, Hindu, black, white, women, men, Indian, Latino, gay, straight, Persian, Chinese, Malaysian, multiracial, international students, “Mayflower” Americans and first-generation Americans – the children of immigrants. The list goes on. The only thing we all for sure had in common was knowing what it feels like to not quite fit in.

Somehow, magically, in the close quarters of our residence hall, we created a space in which no one had to fit a certain mold in order to belong. We remarked on our diversity, even teased each other about having so few friends of our own races/cultures. We debated politics, science, history, faith and ethics over pizza and late night video fests. We found our middle ground, or agreed to disagree. We ate the best of all imaginable food, from every continent and corner of the earth. We pushed each other to excel in academics and extracurriculars. We challenged each other. Most of all, we had fun.

College days seem far behind now. Very far, sometimes. But I still crave that space, where everyone and everything was okay as they were. In this world it is all too rare. Rather than missing what was, though, I prefer to think that this circle has not faded but is only growing wider. I remain in touch with a few of these friends, from whom I first learned that there is so much more joy in starting out different and finding out how you are alike, than the other way around. That sitting in a room together – no matter what the activity – teaches you more than any book or list of facts. It is the simple things that broaden our minds, not the things designed to teach us.

Maybe it is as simple as the sharing of the air…