Presentation on the “Community” panel

by Rev. Dr. Melanie Morrison
August 5, 2000 (a plenary session on at the WOW 2000 conference)

I speak today as a European American lesbian who is powerfully afraid for the souls of white people and for the soul of this nation that is infected with the sickness of racism. I am powerfully afraid of the winds of fear and white supremacist politics – not only in fringe groups like the Militia, but in the established political parties where presidential candidates proudly proclaim that they will undo affirmative action and deny basic human rights to so called “illegal immigrants.” I am also powerfully afraid that this welcoming church movement remains fractured and divided along racial lines.

There is so much work yet to be done in the struggle to dismantle racism. The welcoming movement could become a beacon in this work. Could. Isn’t yet. Could, if, and only if, we begin by doing some hard work within ourselves, within our own faith communities, and within this wider network of communities. Speaking as a European American lesbian, I want to call upon my white LGBT sisters and brothers to ask ourselves some hard questions before we leave this conference:

What would be required of us if we were to organize, educate, and work against white skin privilege and white racism in the welcoming churches and organizations with which we are affiliated?
What might those churches and organizations look like if we cared as passionately about eliminating white racism as we do about eliminating homophobia?
How might our welcoming churches and organizations be transformed if we committed ourselves to moving toward the time when the needs, concerns, insights, and gifts of people of color became central?
How might our welcoming churches and organizations be transformed if those of us who are white relinquished control, learned how to share power, listened more and talked less?
What would happen if we who are white stopped asking: “Where are they? Why aren’t they here?” and started asking instead: “Where are we? Why aren’t we there? Why aren’t we actively making connections with LGBT communities of color and finding out what the political and spiritual priorities are in those communities?”

I would call upon my white sisters and brothers in this welcoming movement to hold each other accountable and to be open to being corrected every time we hear ourselves or someone else uttering racist sentiments. There are four statements in particular that I would like to see banned for good from the vocabulary of white LGBT people. I will repeat each of these twice in the hopes that you might recognize them.

“There is an awful lot of homophobia in black churches.”
Such a statement ought not to be spoken by white people. We do not know whereof we speak. It is not our work to be assessing homophobia in black churches. It is our work to challenge the homophobia and racism manifested by our white brothers and sisters and to offer our support and encouragement to our African American sisters and brothers who are confronting homophobia in their own churches – whether those churches are predominantly black or white.
“LGBT people are the last minority unfairly legislated against in the United States.”
Such statements negate the ongoing civil and human rights struggles of people of color, immigrants, people with disabilities, poor women, and others.
“The Christian right and other right-wing groups could not, in our day and age, get away with the kind of overt name-calling and bigotry that they direct against LGBT people if there were talking about Jewish people or people of color.”
In fact, they get away with it every day, overtly and covertly.
“LGBT inclusion is the most important issue facing our churches in this new millennium.”
I can imagine you now shaking your heads and saying, “Well, for heaven’s sake, what’s wrong with that statement? Isn’t it true that every denomination is being torn asunder by this issue?” That may be true, but we must resist this kind of splitting that makes a hierarchy of oppressions and movements for justice. It divides us from each other and it works against the kind of genuine collaboration and unity that we so desperately need in this new millennium.

I cannot, and I will not, say that the social vulnerability and degradation I face as a lesbian should be treated with any more urgency within communities of faith than the vulnerability and degradation that women and children on welfare face every day. In my home state of Michigan, people on welfare are fingerprinted and drug-tested before they can receive their woefully inadequate payments. I cannot and will not say that the injustices I have to endure as a lesbian should be treated with more urgency in communities of faith than the denial of basic civil rights of those incarcerated in the Ionia State Prison, ten miles down the road from my home. This year, the Michigan legislature passed a law that forbids female prisoners from suing prison personnel on the basis of sexual harassment or abuse – declaring that prisoners are not worthy of the same civil protections as other citizens.

This welcoming church movement will become a truly transformed and transforming movement when LGBT people and our allies recognize that we have common cause with women and children on welfare and with prisoners throughout this country. This welcoming movement will become a truly transformed and transforming movement when we care as passionately about eliminating racism, classism, and ableism as we do about eliminating homophobia.

I want to end by quoting the words of Tess Browne, who has worked for years in the farm workers’ struggle:

We are all the Creator’s children.
We didn’t come out of the past unhurt,
but together, individually and through our cultures,
we can heal our world and bring each other home...
And remember, we want to make sure
that we all come home together.

May it be so.