Privileged? Who Me?

Growing up in the South – a woman who was taught to stay in her place – it was men who enjoyed all the privileges of power. Within the male/female hierarchy, I certainly was not encouraged to believe I had any special privilege. It took stepping out of my “place” and looking at my life from a whole new perspective to be able to see that – yes, even while living within all the various limits of my  Christian White Southern Woman Box – I was still a part of the dominant culture; I still live with unearned, undeserved privilege. Just because I didn’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there. tumblr_ms5vlfjE5K1qzgq67o1_500 Like gravity, the invisible status quo of our culture tends to keep all of us in our “place” until we figure out how to see it, name it and stand firm against its insidious hold on us.

Everywhere I turn, I see other people saying the same thing. Many of us are becoming more and more aware of the favors society gives us just because of the color of our skin. It’s embarrassing.

Jim Rigby posted on Facebook how he, like me, was “taught a white version of history, a white version of beauty, and was saved by a white savior. I could not see my racism because it was the lens through which I was looking at everything else.” The very next day Jim blogged (with his tongue firmly in his cheek): “How do you know America is post-racial? Because a bunch of white people will come onto your Facebook and shout down anyone who would suggest otherwise.”

Matt Zoller Seitz is the Editor-in-Chief of and a TV critic for New York Magazine. He tells a story of a very stupid fight he started outside a bar, and then the undeserved wink and nod he got from the Dallas police as the Hispanic guy went off in handcuffs. Matt knows, because he has taken the lens off, that different rules apply to him than to so many others.

After the events in Ferguson, quite a few thoughtful writers burdened with their own privilege wondered what they could do. Rachel Held Evans said we are “not as helpless as we think” even though racial reconciliation is a “hard discouraging road.” Janee Woods wrote a much shared reflection on “12 Things White People Can Do…” When the Public Religion Research Institute published survey results revealing that most white people don’t have very many friends of color in our social networks, the blogosphere came alive with discussion.

Franciscan priest Richard Rohr relates his story of finally recognizing his own white privilege and finding ways to dismantle it. His summary of what perpetuates and sustains white privilege: “Self chosen illusion and 2016-01-15-1452828903-6185521-TuneandRohr-thumbdenial, softened and sustained by too easy comfort.”

(Father Richard is deeply wise and his recent interview with Romal Tune is well worth reading.)

So are we favored white folks going to sit by and continue to allow America be what America has been? Or is this the time when we finally step up and really work for a more equitable America?

I can’t stop the culture from gifting me with undeserved privilege, but I can find ways to increase the privilege and opportunities of others who live within my sphere of influence. I can’t change the fact that my skin is light, but I can stand against the insidious notion that white is the ideal and cultural norm.

It is not.  the_joys_of_new_friends_4492_94441656

Working to change entrenched systems is not quick or easy, but when enough of us discard our blinders of privilege and open our eyes to the realities of inequity within our society – a reality in which too many of us are too often complicit – then and only then can we truly be partners and allies in this effort for a just America.

The “System” may try to keep us in “our place,” to keep all of us in all sorts of “boxes” that define us and divide us.  But we don’t have to give in to that status quo. Breaking out of those boxes and standing together can be our salvation.


“break free out of your mold” sculpture by Zenos Frudakis


Charlotte Vaughan Coyle lives in Paris TX and blogs about intersections of faith, culture and politics on her website and Intersections Facebook page. She frequentlyIntersections logo shares her thoughts with Coffee Party USA as a regular volunteer.

Charlotte is an ordained minister within the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) and also blogs about Scripture from a progressive Christian approach in her Living in The Story Musings.

Women Are Created Equal Too

Tuesday, August 26, 2014

“We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men and women are created equal…”

When Elizabeth Cady Stanton read these radical words in the mid 1800’s, she was booed and jeered for her sacrilegious editing of the Declaration of Independence. fig7It was “sacrilege” on several levels: when the women’s movement disavowed the hierarchical status quo of the American culture of their day, they challenged the “sacred” foundational understandings of both men and women. Further, when they claimed that women should have an equal place within the home and the church and society, they argued against fundamental presuppositions of inequality within the religious establishment. It was not easy. Questioning the status quo brought significant vilification and persecution to these women. Continue reading Women Are Created Equal Too

Rachel Weeping for Her Children

Already – a horrendous year of violence. Just seven weeks into 2018 and there have already been eight school shootings in the US.

Violence begets violence. Our center is not holding and the world implodes around us with the sickening weight of hatred, anger and fear.

How can this keep happening? I ask myself. How far can this spiral take us down into the darkness?

Then I look at the story of the human family over the ages and I remember that cycles of violence have taken us into this abyss over and over again.

Instead of recognizing that we are one human family, we imagine each other as “other.” Instead of acknowledging our deep human connection, we see our differences as divides so we create and perpetuate the fragmentation of our human community.

This is madness.

Sometimes I wonder if some people actually fear a future where everyone is equally accepted and equally valued. It seems incomprehensible to me that such a vision might be motivating humanity’s violence. But I can’t help but wonder.

In the ancient biblical story, the Pharaoh of Egypt proclaimed that all the male children of the Israelite people should be murdered at the moment they were born; Pharaoh didn’t want anymore of “those kinds” of people in his kingdom. The Gospel of Matthew tells another story about King Herod sending soldiers to Bethlehem to kill all the male children of the Israelite villagers; Herod feared a competitor.

Throughout the human story, this violence is repeated again and again. Within the American story, once again it is our young people, our children who bear the consequences of our national sins. They die on foreign battlefields. They die on neighborhood streets. They die in school classrooms. They die while dancing.

When reflecting on some of these horrors, the Old Testament prophet Jeremiah and the New Testament theologian Matthew both borrowed the image of their ancestor Rachel: “wailing with loud lamentation, weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted because they are no more.” 6a00d8341c22ce53ef00e54f67d4918834-800wi

How can this keep happening? I ask myself.

Losing our children is much worse than even the heart breaking, gut wrenching loss of any one of these unique and precious individuals; it is also the loss of a future. For most of us, our children give us hope for the future. But for others – I wonder – is their vision of the future so clouded with fear that they may see the Michael Browns and the Tamir Rices and the Philando Castiles and the dancers at the Pulse as some sort of threat?

In the collective consciousness of our society, do these conjure fear because they represent too many of those kind of people in this American “kingdom”? In the collective consciousness of too many angry young white men, does the emerging empowerment of others feel like dis-empowerment for themselves?

As a Christian minister, I see both fear and hope everywhere I turn and I recognize this as nothing new. Herod sent the soldiers to Bethlehem because he feared the child Jesus was a threat to his power. And he was right: his power was at risk. The “kingdom” God is bringing into being does threaten the power of all the kings and pharoahs among us.

When the reign of peace, justice and respect gains more ground in the attitudes and actions of more and more people, then the status quo of oppression, intimidation and inequity must lose ground.

The status quo IS changing. And I say “Thank God.”

I firmly believe that God is birthing into our midst a new multivalent rainbow community that will finally end the power of white, male, straight privilege. I believe God’s upside down power of grace and love will finally bring about a future of hope where every life matters, where each one is valued for who they are, where all our children are able to grow up to become the people God created them to be. This kind of vision for the future gives many of us great hope.

But for others this vision of equity and inclusion fosters fear.

When fear and prejudice have easy access to a gun, it’s not just our children who are in danger; it’s all of us. When fear and prejudice are given both a gun and a badge then – yes – it is high time for prophetic challenge and peaceful protest. Each of us individually and all of us together must raise our voice and stand with our hands in the air – open, vulnerable and powerful in the upside down way of God’s life-changing power.

And so in the meantime, while we watch and wait for the vision to become reality, things continue to be painful, messy and chaotic. Maybe one reason why is because the oil and water of fear and hope continue to keep us fragmented – both within our society and within each of us. Maybe because we are all at the same time good and bad, light and dark, hopeful and fearful.

We are Rachel, weeping for our children.

And let us remember that all these children are all our children.

4986607878_aa21af8fe8_zWe are Rachel in labor, yearning in travail for a future with hope.

Maybe as we seek Rachel’s comfort even in the midst of this chaos, we can find ways to let go of the fear, lean into the vision, and help our nation hold onto the hope.








“I’ll Vote for Jesus”

I’ve been doing voter registration in my small East Texas county and it has been fascinating to meet so many different people and to hear just a snatch of their stories. A few people would vote for Texas to secede from the United States; several wouldn’t dare vote for any of the “puppets” running for any kind of office; quite a few women lean forward to listen more closely when I tell them that some strong smart women are running for Texas’ top positions. My favorites are the people who look down at their feet and tell me they can’t vote because they have a felony conviction in their past. I get to ask them: “Are you off paper? Have you finished your parole and probation? Then you ARE eligible to vote!” t1larg.calif.votersYou should see the expressions on their faces. Sometimes it’s the people who have lost their right to vote who most appreciate its privilege and are willing to once again step up to its responsibility.

But I have to admit I was taken back a bit when one woman looked me in the eye and said: “I’ll vote for Jesus.” In her mind, Jesus is the only one who can fix the mess we humans have made. In her thinking, it is only when Jesus comes again that the world will be set right. Continue reading “I’ll Vote for Jesus”