We Can`t Stay Here Anymore: The New Era of Racial Estrangement and Separation

By Lewis Brogdon

Moving can be exciting. The promise of something new; new opportunity; a new place to put down roots and call home; new places to see; and new friends. And then there are the boxes, moving vans, and travel as you set off for somewhere new. However, moving is not always exciting because it is not always going to a new place. Sometimes it is bittersweet because it is a return home. There are times in life when a move does not work out the way you expected. 

The new place does not turn out to be what you had hoped for and needed. When this happens, some people return home. The words, “We are moving back home,” or “We can’t stay here anymore,” can be bittersweet as it means a return to the familiar, but at the expense of something hoped for but not realized. 

One of the difficult aspects of a move like this is that there is little to no time to grieve. From a societal standpoint, attention and pressure are given to what lies ahead and not what was left behind. We are a “full speed ahead” kind of nation. Even churches admonish people to forget the past and embrace the future, using verses like Philippians 3:13. While there is a tremendous amount of value in this, there is a hidden danger when we do not value the grieving process. In our attempt to dive into all things “new,” we neglect to give attention and space for the grief involved in letting go of or losing something cherished. This must change because people need time to grieve loss.

An Era of Racism and Retreat

I believe moving back home can teach us a few things about the racial climate in which we find ourselves today and, particularly, what it means to be pastoral and supportive to family and friends experiencing loss. Many of us – black and white – but particularly blacks, moved away from mono-racial spaces with hopes of integrated and inclusive churches, relationships, businesses, neighborhoods, and lives with people of different races and ethnicities. The move was difficult because mono-racial spaces are so important and have buoyed our communities for years. But moving away was a choice to write a new chapter in our national history and was the actualization of Dr. King’s dream of a beloved community for all peoples. This aspect of moving away was characterized by excitement and promise. But the excitement is waning as racism re-asserts itself in our public life and people retreat to mono-racial and segregated spaces.

Today, under the clamor of our public discourse, there is a silent trail of pain long ignored by churches, its theologians, pastoral care givers, and people of goodwill. Amidst the retrenchment of racial animus and violence, the re-emergence of overt racism, and the appalling silence of people we thought were partners and friends, there has been a steady retreat to racialized spaces. Racism has re-emerged and intensified across the nation, and individuals and families have faced the cold, hard, and bitter realization that they cannot stay “here” any longer. 

Where is here? “Here” are those multiracial and integrated spaces created after the collapse of Jim Crow. What happened? Black people (and white people of goodwill) have had their eyes opened to the realization that this country has not made the progress we thought. We have been surprised by the silence of white friends as white supremacist and white nationalist groups parade themselves openly in our streets and recruit others to their cause. We have been disappointed by the refusal by white friends to speak out against police brutality and injustice in the criminal justice system when one “not guilty” verdict is followed by another. We also felt betrayed by white evangelicals for supporting a presidential candidate who ran on a racially charged platform of “making America great again.” Then, there is the grief we feel as we observe the spectacle of strife and violence that has engulfed our nation. Social media feeds and news sources report the collapse of a society where being “in Christ” and a citizen of a country where people are believed to be “endowed by our Creator with certain inalienable rights” meant that we could transcend the power of racism. In the wake of such profound loss, we do not have the necessary space to grieve. This is the time in which we live, a time of neglected grief that is a part of the fuel that is raging and engulfing this nation. 

A Painful Period of Silence and Betrayal

What happened that led to deep breaches in interracial friendships, relationships, churches, businesses, and other networks? During the decades of the 90s and into the first decade of the 21st century, white Christians were talking a lot about racial reconciliation. There was the “miracle in Memphis” and the Promise Keepers Movement in the 90s. Denominations like the Southern Baptist Convention issued apologies for their support of slavery and racism. Numerous books were written on reconciliation and the church’s troubled history around such issues as a new generation seem resolved to correct the sins of the past and build a better future. 

But something changed. In 2008, Barack Obama became the 44th president of the United States. Obama was the first African American president and his ascension to the White House unleashed a new wave of racial hate. Many people wanted to believe America had entered a new era where of the old evils of racism were finally behind us. We were wrong. When some semblance of a new day dawned, black Americans were surprised how many of their white brothers and sisters were not happy about it. In fact, they were angry and resentful.

Even though President Obama clearly and forcefully articulated his faith in Jesus Christ and was a baptized Christian, he was often called a Muslim. Although he was a happily married man and committed father who conducted himself with class and dignity, he was called names like ape, baboon, monkey, and yes, the “N” word. He was criticized for being too intellectual and for race baiting when he spoke the truth about the racial realities emerging everywhere around him in the country. Signs, jackets, and posters saying things like “let’s keep the White House white” were proudly worn. To our dismay, many white Evangelical and even some mainline Christians went out of their way to support the obstructionist efforts of the Republican-led house and senate and rarely had a positive word to say about this black Christian man. Worse yet, as the uglier and more violent forms of racial hatred paraded the streets, white evangelical leaders looked the other way and did not expose, rebuke, or use their moral authority to challenge these things. After Obama’s two terms came Donald Trump and a wave of white backlash still being felt in communities everywhere.

In 2020, the signs of racial hatred abound. Marches in cities and communities, signs with racist messages and racial epithets litter the national landscape, and video evidence of white Americans openly expressing racial animus and, in some cases, resorting to violence against persons of color inundate social media and the news. Countless numbers of lives have been lost at the hands of white Americans drunk on the wine of racial hatred – Trayvon Martin, Michael Brown, Sandra Bland, Philando Castile, Freddie Gray, Samuel DuBose, Walter Scott, Eric Garner, Tamir Rice, Alton Sterling, Ahmad Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd. These are but a few names of those lives lost during this very troubling recent period in our history. 

In addition to these well-known killings, many African Americans were being subjected to verbal violence and other discriminatory practices as emboldened “Tea Party” and “Trump-supporting” whites attempt to take their country back and make it great again. Blacks are profiled by the police and now more whites call the police on black patrons in stores, restaurants, and hotels, having them kicked out and arrested for no reason. There are increasing incidents of blacks being arrested in their homes under suspicion of being criminals. Black people today are under assault as the leaders and friends who spent decades talking about forgiveness, racial reconciliation, and a new future are supporting the very practices that sustained evils in the past. Scores of white Christians refused to speak out against slavery and segregation, evils that caused great suffering and death. Now scores of white Christians today are doing the exact same thing. They are even willing to support a leader who regularly says racially insensitive things and engages in dog whistling. 

In addition to this, many white Christians and churches continue to believe and falsely claim that America does not have a race problem. Worse yet, instead of being agents of challenge and change, most bury their head in the sand and do nothing, a response that Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., mentioned decades earlier in his famous Letter from a Birmingham Jail. 

¹I have been so greatly disappointed with the white church and its leadership…I felt that the white ministers, priests and rabbis of the South would be some of our strongest allies. Instead, some have been outright opponents, refusing to understand the freedom movement and misrepresenting its leaders; all too many others have been more cautious than courageous and have remained silent behind the anesthetizing security of the stain-glass windows…I have traveled the length and breadth of Alabama, Mississippi and all the other southern states. On sweltering summer days and crisp autumn mornings I have looked at her beautiful churches with lofty spires pointing heavenward. I have beheld the impressive outlay of her massive education buildings. Over and over again I have found myself asking: “What kind of people worship here? Who is their God? Where were their voices when the lips of Governor Barnett dripped with words of interposition and nullification? Where were they when Governor Wallace gave the clarion call for defiance and hatred? Where were their voices of support when tired, bruised and weary Negro men and women decided to rise from the dark dungeons of complacency to the bright hills of creative protest? Yes, these questions are still in my mind. In deep disappointment, I have wept over the laxity of the church.

King reminds us that this kind of disappointment is not new. 

In the past two years as the country has grappled with the 400-year history of blacks in America and a new wave of unrest emerged over the summer, we have witnessed only one national anti-racism and reparations campaign launched by a white denomination – the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship. There have been initiatives and public statements released by white mainline denominations, but no major actions taken to correct structural racism. The largest predominately white congregations rarely, if ever, weigh in on the issue of racism and escalating violence. Some of these churches have over 5.000 members and so their influence could be significant. Many wealthy and influential white churches and institutions are silent. For example, many were quiet after the Mother Emanuel killings in Charleston and quiet after the Charlottesville march that turned into a riot.

I cannot adequately put into words how painful this collective realization has been for many African Americans. We feel betrayed by people who call themselves Christians and worshipers of the one and only God. These things raise deeper questions for our consideration. Why do white churches refuse to speak up and speak out on this issue? Why the persistent and dogmatic denial of a problem with race in America? How is it spiritually and humanly possible in the face of so much evidence of a deep racial problem for churches to be quiet? Why not use its moral voice and authority to address these issues head on? Questions like these and others have led to painful breeches and separations.

Neglecting the Fallout from Racism’s Re-Emergence

Much of our theological attention has been given to why overt racism has made such a strong and open comeback and to the many justice issues related to systemic racism. However, little attention has been given to the fallout in the everyday world of inter-racial families, friendships, relationships, churches, and networks of varied kinds that have been woven together for decades that are now being severed and lost, sometimes for good. I believe it is reckless for churches to advocate for justice while neglecting to care for the brokenness and pain racial estrangement causes in families, friendships, relationships, churches, and communities. 

Today, we are living in a period of retreat, of moving back to safe “racial” spaces. There may not be literal empty houses and full moving trucks, but more people than we can number have realized they can’t stay “here” any longer and have moved. We live in an era of unprecedented loss – marriages, relationships, friendships, church memberships, jobs, opportunities, and new possibilities  are being lost as people move back “home” to families, friendships, communities, churches, and jobs that are deeply racialized. It is an era of profound communal grief with estrangement, loss, anger, sadness, acceptance, and retreat. It is one of the top pastoral care issues of our day, and I wonder who is going to attend to and care for those in pain because they have lost friendships and relationships across the lines of race. 

Moses and Moving: Models for Pastoral Care, Theology, and Preaching

Earlier I said that one of the most difficult aspects of moving is the absence of time given for grief. Sadly, the church and the theological academy are following the lead of society and failing to give space for people to acknowledge and deal with the loss of friendships, relationships, and opportunities for a different racial reality. Mono-racial churches have opened their doors and hearts to people, but have largely ignored the pain the people brought with them. Churches have been naïve about the complexity of returning home. Going home or going back to mono-racial or cultural spaces is never easy because the person or family that returns is not the same and will never be the same person that left. There are also factors like the resentment and anger of blacks who stayed in mono-racial relationships and neighborhoods toward those who left and now find themselves returning.  

There is a story in the Bible that speaks to the experiences of moving away and returning to one’s home or people. It is the story of Moses in Exodus. He was born a Hebrew, son of enslaved people. He grows up in Egypt as a member of the house of Pharaoh, but he comes to a point where he can not stay in Egypt. As an adult, he returns to his people, and it is a messy, complex, and far-from-happy ending. Moses’ life offers a helpful parallel experience for churches, pastors, and mental health professionals to consider as they wade into this neglected issue. I conclude with five recommendations I hope will be considered as we take up this work in our communities.

Pastoral care counselors and other mental health professionals and researchers need to study the effects of racial estrangement and loss on the mental health of people;

Churches need to invite mental health professionals to explain the dynamics of grief and provide services to people who may need it;

Pastors need sermons and sermon series that speak specifically to the complex issues of estrangement, loss, and movements back to racialized space;

Churches and community groups or organizations should sponsor support groups for people to talk about loss and pain. People need to be able to give voice to these things.

Churches and community groups should consider holding healing services and developing resources like prayer books and reflection journals that enable people to process grief and open themselves to a process of healing from the acute pain of racial estrangement and loss. 

 ¹Martin Luther King, Jr., “A Letter from a Birmingham Jail,” A Testament of Hope: The Essential Writings and Speeches of Martin Luther King, Jr. James Washington, ed. (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1986), 298-99

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