Peace Begins With Me
I shouldn’t be surprised that Spirit nudged me to reconnect with my dad on the day before I am set to lead a virtual event called, “Peace Begins With Me”. My father and I haven’t spoken in years…we only connect via email. The last email I received from him was last July, and it’s been sitting unread in my inbox the entire time. He’s been doing his best to make peace with me, and I refused.
When the Black Lives Matter movement became a thing, my father and I clashed. He believed the organization was making America less safe for him, as a white man. I believed the movement was making America more safe for me, as a black woman. As the cultural conversation about race heated up, tension between my father and his two brothers increased.
While all of that was going on, I was doing some healing work around my own identity. When I speak at a spiritual center for the first time, I usually mention that I’m a half-black, half-Jewish lesbian. And people usually respond with laughter. The first time this happened, I was taken aback. Why is my identity funny?
Being a public speaker put my identity on display. It revealed I had a lot of healing work to do. With all of these identities in one body. I was constantly advocating for my right to be who I am in almost every space that I occupied. My healing journey brought me to Oklahoma City. Literally, the last place on Earth where I expected to find support and community.
In my email to my father, I shared my experience of Alibi’s, a local queer bar. It’s the first place I've ever frequented where I wasn't the only queer, mixed-race woman in the room. There are four other mixed race lesbians who are regulars at the bar. Sometimes, all five of us are there at the same time. There's a picture on my bedroom wall of the four of us in a group hug. Makes sense that I’m launching a spiritual service there on January 29th.
In Oklahoma, I go to three places: Sisu, Alibi's and the United Life Center for Spiritual Living. I've been a minister in many spiritual centers around the country, but United Life has been the only place where I've felt celebrated for my authenticity. From the pulpit, I've talked about Alibi's, my intersectional experience, and all kinds of other things that would have been controversial at other centers.
When I was hired at Sisu, a services provider for unhoused youth, I noticed we did an excellent job of creating LGBT+ affirming spaces, but we had some work to do towards supporting our clients of color. I told my boss that if we had a more diverse staff, we could better serve those youth. A year later, our shelter staff and leadership team is far more diverse. When I started, I was the only black case manager. Now, there are several.
I shared all of this with my father. While writing the email, I realized how much healing I’d done. In two and a half years, I lived through a global pandemic, a cultural shift in how we talk about race in America, a divorce, a sudden (and random) move to Oklahoma City, and a wedding to my soul mate. Makes sense why I didn’t have the emotional energy to exchange emails with the guy who was triggering my trauma around internalized racism.
I’m grateful to feel like I’m on the other side of this rollercoaster of my life. I appreciate that Spirit nudged me to make peace in my own family, before leading an event to inspire others to do the same. Peace begins with all of us. The work may be difficult as hell, but it’s worth it. If we want to see more love in the world, we have to be ones who are willing to be the change we wish to see.
