My family once owned slaves. I owe it to my son to own up.
My 2-year-old is beginning to ask all kinds of questions. And I’ve begun to wonder what I will share with him about his family’s heritage.
As I’ve considered this, I’ve realized how little I know about my family’s story. I grew up with the implicit knowledge that I’m “white.” But “white” is not an ethnic group. Ta-Nehisi Coates observes that I am from “people who believe themselves to be white.” This phrase uncovers the truth that “white” is an idea created by people in power to maintain dominance. Thus who qualifies as “white” is continually shifting.
As I cut through the facade of generic “whiteness” to learn about my history, I discovered that my ancestors arrived on this continent in 1690 and founded Ruckersville, Virginia. I also found evidence that we “owned” enslaved African people.
A few years ago, the Iowa Legislature passed a bill restricting public schools from teaching concepts that might make students “feel discomfort (or) guilt ... on account of … race or sex.” Based on this criterion, teaching my son that his ancestors enslaved African people – and that this enslavement has economic ramifications today – would be illegal in his classroom.
Is this really how we want to raise our children – sheltering them from historical complexity and implying that they don’t have the strength to reckon with their people’s past?
When we avoid racial history, white political leaders end up taking positions that are hypocritical.
Gov. Kim Reynolds rails about “protecting the southern border” from undocumented immigrants. But the truth is that, with the exception of Indigenous Americans, all our families are immigrants to America, including Reynolds’.
There’s a Christian framework to learn, grow and heal
I’m a Christian pastor. In our religion we are given a road map for how to work with our community’s transgressions. It’s called “repentance,” and it’s what Jesus called everyone to – especially those who wield racial or political power. The first step in repentance is telling the truth. The second step is confessing our sin. And the third is repairing the harm (Luke 19:1-10).
The irony is that, often, Iowan leadfollowers ers who oppose teaching racial history are Christian themselves. But these leaders seem unaware that the Jesus whom they call “Savior” demands his repent through confession and wrestling honestly with how to repair past harms. Instead of doing the work of repentance, most Republican politicians are legislating “devotion to the United States’ exceptional and praiseworthy history.”
Based on (Iowa) criterion, teaching my son that his ancestors enslaved African people – and that this enslavement has economic ramifications today – would be illegal in his classroom.
Anything less than honesty is a disservice to my son
I am going to tell my son about our whole family history.
I am going to teach him that he can be grateful for the sacrifices of his forbears while also having the courage to reckon with our crimes against African and Indigenous people.
I am going to help him understand how he still benefits from advantages that were gained because of racism, past and present. And I am going to show him how his faith calls him to a process of love and repentance to correct racial injustices.
Anything less than this honesty is a disservice to my son, and to our whole community.