by Heather Hedlund
Has this ever happened to you? You wake up early in the morning and realize that you made a mistake on some work you've submitted, and it's too late to change it. That's what happened to me the morning our last J&RR newsletter went out. As I was thinking about the blog I wrote on Talking about Race, I realized that I made a classic white person mistake. In social justice terminology, it's called "centering whiteness" but here's what it means in plain English. In the United States, whiteness is considered normal. It's the default. If a writer or speaker hasn't explicitly mentioned a person's race, we generally picture the character as white. I wrote that whole article on talking about race without ever noticing that I was only talking about and for white people. Yes, I see the irony. I should have noted that as a white person I was raised to be colorblind and that it feels awkward for white people to talk about race because we're out of practice. Families who aren't white usually talk about race a lot, not because they necessarily want to, but because they have to. I apologize for writing about my experience as though it's universal, when it certainly is not.
I've been working to de-center whiteness in my writing and my thinking. You might be wondering, "What's the big deal? Why do you think you need to do that?" Think about what it feels like to be considered normal and what it feels like to be outside of the norm. For me, the most vivid memory is my experience in seventh grade. I was definitely not considered normal by my peers, and as a result I was teased mercilessly and excluded. In my junior high, the unwritten rules around what was considered normal and what wasn't upheld a hierarchy of popularity or value as a friend. Similarly, when as a society, we take for granted certain attributes as normal and others as outside of the norm, we uphold hierarchies of value among people because we tend to associate normal with better.
Other reasons I'm working to de-center whiteness are to create an environment of inclusion and to make sure that I'm learning from a broad spectrum of voices. It can be demoralizing to read something that looks like it's written for everyone, but then realize that it doesn't capture your experience at all. Also, when one group's experience is normalized at the expense of other groups, members of that group can get away without even noticing that other people's experiences even exist or might be different. I love history, and I'm a voracious reader. I've been reading books about important people and events in history since I was a kid, and I thought I was quite knowledgeable about the history of our country. What I didn't realize until a few years ago is that my reading had been centered in whiteness. Almost everything I read was written by white people about white people. There were small side notes on people of color, but no real emphasis or detail. Once I realized this, I started reading about the history of Black people in our country. I've included a lot more books written by Black authors, and I've also read books by white authors that focus on the Black experience. I can't believe how much fascinating and important history I had missed. I also have a much better understanding of why we're still dealing with racial injustice. Now I'm expanding my view even further to look at history through the eyes of Native Americans and women.
Perhaps the most important consideration, though, is why we should care about this as Christians. As I read the Bible, I am struck more and more by how the stories of those who were outside the normative culture are elevated. In Old Testament times, men and particularly the oldest brother would have been the ones with power whose voices were normalized and elevated. Yet God so frequently chose outsiders to carry forward the story of the Bible. Older brothers were overlooked in favor of younger brothers like Jacob and David. Female foreigners like Tamar, Rahab, Ruth, and Bathsheba not only had their stories told, but also were chosen by God to be in the ancestral line of the Messiah, Jesus. Deborah and Esther played important roles in rescuing their people. In the New Testament, Jewish men would have been considered the normative voice, especially as they tried to maintain their cultural identity amidst the Roman Empire. But the New Testament frequently gives voice to women, foreigners, and even Gentiles. The books of Luke and Acts, which account for a quarter of the New Testament text, are traditionally attributed to Luke, who was likely a Gentile. If it was important to God to include a variety of voices and stories in his Word and to elevate those who didn't hold power, I should seek to do the same. So, I will continue to work to de-center whiteness in my writing and thinking.