Recent comments by Rev. Jeremiah Wright, retired pastor of the Trinity United Church of Christ in Chicago and former member of Sen. Barack Obama’s African American Religious Leadership Committee, have threatened to undermine the momentum of racial harmony generated by the Presidential campaign for Change. Unfortunately, the lens through which the media and the general public have been examining the comments made by Rev. Wright reveals a cultural incompetency with regard to interpreting honest criticisms of this nation’s troubled attempts to achieve racial justice. In my opinion, recent events reflect a lack of willingness–or lack of capacity to fully digest–this nation’s lingering imperfections. Rev. Wright spoke of escalating incarceration rates that disparately affect African American communities. Well, this is true. Rev. Wright spoke of Sen. Hillary Clinton not being a African American person and therefore having no personal experience combating racism. She may empathize, but she does not know what it feels or tastes like. I don’t find this inflammatory either.

Before people attempt to judge Rev. Wright based upon sound bites, I think it is important to understand the culture of the Black church and its historical legacy in the fight for social justice. While it is an imperfect structure, it has been one of the most effective institutions in African American history at raising consciousness about the moral and social injustices that threaten America’s promise of opportunity to everyone. Historically, the Black church was the only place where African American people, controlled by dehumanizing codes and laws that controlled our public voice and images, could be free to tell the truth. The Black church has, like the barber shop, been a place where African Americans are free to merge politics with messages of liberation in order to understand the suffering and legacy of discrimination that has had such an impact on our lives. Passion, is at the core of this tradition, but so is a vigilant thrust toward opening the eyes of those who have internalized so much oppression to the injustices that continue to plague Black communities. For many African Americans, the church remains one of the few places where we can hear what we need to hear to assure ourselves that we are not crazy when we experience racism and feel it is unjust. Even those of us who are not Christians expect the church to be more than just a place where ministers preach in rhyme, or pose in stereotypical caricature.

What has been telling about this race for the Democratic nomination is how much both candidates are now trying to distance themselves from anyone who suggests that America’s race relations are imperfect. We are clearly in a delicate political dance, in which all partners need to demonstrate they are “candidate everyone.” But we should be mindful that too much denunciation and disassociation can lead to a dishonest discourse on the painful wounds that are still very open in our society. Recent resignations from both the Clinton and Obama camps suggest that our public discourse has regressed on race since the 1960s, when the Black church and other defenders of social justice voiced their opinions and forced this nation to confront its most uncomfortable racial situations.

In today’s political climate, it is convenient to reduce the Black Church’s most famous public orator, Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., to a sound bite that describes a “dream” in which little white children and black children play together; but the most incisive and important parts of that speech are those which today would be considered controversial, and possibly, worthy of “denunciation” and “rejection” given the growing intolerance associated with those who seek to call attention to the hypocrisy of claiming to be the world’s greatest democracy while failing to allow everyone an equal chance to engage in it here at home. In 1963, in the “I Have a Dream” speech, Dr. King says, “It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked “insufficient funds.”

If Rev. King were an advisor to the Clinton or Obama campaign, would he be fired or forced to resign for making inflammatory remarks? Would he become part of the “guilt by association” campaign that is distracting voters from other, more important concerns about health care, the economy, and solutions to the ridiculous and appalling fact that many of us are now paying more than $4.00 a gallon for gas? Or would Dr. King’s words be taken for what they were–a call for America to do better?

Sen. Obama’s historic bid for the White House has revealed more than just how far this nation has come. It has also revealed how far we still have to go to hear each other, accurately interpret each other’s words, and understand each other’s institutions and the role they play in our quest for a better society. Rev. Wright’s comments should not undermine Sen. Obama’s promise to unite the nation. Instead, they should be used as an opportunity for all of America to do a better job of reconciling its pain and finding a space for us to tell the truth about this nation’s imperfections without shame.

Suggested Reading:

I Have A Dream by Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Black Messiahs and Uncle Toms: Social and Literary Manipulations of a Religious Myth by Wilson Jeremiah Moses.

Soul Sanctuary by Jason Miccolo Johnson.

1. Is anyone else tired of the political strategy of raising Sen. Obama’s heritage at every convenient opportunity? For days, people have been chatting up Geraldine Ferraro’s comments about Barack Obama only being in his position because he is of African descent. My husband, also a biracial man in American society, suggested that this must be designed to irritate Sen. Obama to the point that he might respond in anger, thus turning him (in the public eye) from a balanced professional presence into an “angry Black man.” Whether you agree with this statement or not, the constant discussion about Sen. Obama’s heritage confirms W.E.B. DuBois’ prophesy that the problem of the 20th Century would be the problem of the color line; and that the same is true in the 21st Century…even if now it is a line we’re not supposed to see.

2. Why do “sex scandals” involving high profile men (i.e., NY Gov. Eliot Spitzer, Charlie Sheen, Hugh Grant) always focus on the tragedy associated with that man’s “fall from grace”? Nigerian writer Chinua Achebe once said that the story of the hunt would always glorify the hunter unless the lions had their own historian. The same seems to be true here, where the women involved in these sex scandals (often workers in the sex industry) are further objectified and rendered voiceless by the media’s fixation on the male’s fall from grace….Ladies, you need your own historian.

3. Now that American popular culture will be reminding us all (through the HBO miniseries John Adams) that this nation’s founders were young enthusiasts from a variety of moral, political, and social fabrics…can we finally agree that aging people must pass the torch to those who bring fresh perspectives and ideas to political processes? And, since we’re in a different era where information moves faster than the speed of horses’ feet, and where perspectives other than those of white men are valuable to the discourse on freedom and liberty–can we consider that it might be time to write a new Constitution that fully reflects and upholds (not just in a Bill of Rights) the integrity of democracy and justice for all?

Just some questions I wanted to make public…

I’ll admit it…it took a few years for me to catch on. As a person who works on criminal justice reform issues, I had no use for watching television programs that I felt either ignored key issues or spoke of the hunt only through the eyes of the hunter. But The Wire changed all of that. After watching Season Four’s gripping tale of Baltimore children trying to survive amid rampant drug culture, politicized education, violence, and neglect, I was hooked. My husband and I were so hooked that we rented the first three seasons and proceeded to watch them in marathon sittings. It was a tiring process, learning to feel each of The Wire‘s complex characters, but I did. I felt frustration with Jimmy McNulty’s alcohol abuse; hopeful that Stringer Bell could escape the dope game; suspicious of Carcetti’s promise of a new political era; humbled by Bubble’s attempts to free himself from addiction; mixed support for Omar’s quest to challenge the disorderly “code” of the streets; afraid for every one of the children touched by violence and victimization, but especially for Michael, Duquan (“Dukie”), Namond, and Randy; and anger at the poor media coverage of everything taking place in the mythical, but very real, context of The Wire. In all, The Wire was anything but a normal program. It was the most honest contemporary portrayal of issues related to poverty pimping and urban blight on television…but, with last night’s series finale “30,” it is over.

After staring at the blank screen for a second, realizing that there would be no preview of scenes for next week, I tried to reflect upon everything that The Wire was for me. I realized that like coping with the loss of someone you love, there are stages associated with my ability to fully mourn the loss of my favorite show. So, as part of my process of letting go, here are my thoughts:

1. Denial- I can’t believe Dukie fell into addiction. Like many others, I was rooting for him–hard! But he was weak and felt unloved. Abandoned by his family and with no other strong parental figure in his life (since Michael left), the only other adult influence was that of the houseless addict. There have been many painful moments in this series, but watching Dukie–who should be a freshman in high school–sitting next to a stable injecting his arm with poison was awful. What’s worse? Knowing that there are many “Dukies” in every city–right now.

2. Grief- Sob…I was sad when Stringer Bell died; but somehow, the death of Omar was even more vexing. Omar seemed invincible and was a necessary element on the street. But as sad as it was to watch him go, it was even more upsetting to watch young Michael take Omar’s place, knowing that he may one day meet the same fate. Losing Omar–and knowing that we’ll lose Mike, too–is a hard pill to swallow and is, in many ways, like losing The Wire as a whole.

2. Anger- So, after all of the destruction Marlo Stanfield caused, he gets to walk?! Only, he can’t deal with being a small fish in the legitimate business environment, so he walks back on the street to flex his muscles in the pond with which he’s most familiar? Isn’t that classic? Unbelievable! Or maybe, totally believable, which is what makes me so angry about it!!

3. Acceptance- Okay, it is over…maybe now we can maximize the teaching moment.

Even if these comments only make sense to those of you who watched The Wire as religiously as I did, we can all identify with one thing: Our role. A legacy of this show could be that it inspired us to do better. Instead of being content to watch “those people” struggle while we live our lives, it showed us that we are all connected and affected by society’s inability to respond to the needs of every child in a failing public school or a family self-medicating their way through poverty. Yes, The Wire was just an HBO series; but it was also a reminder of what opportunities lie outside of our silos if we took an hour (now that The Wire is off of our screen) to instead pay attention to the greater connection that can improve our collective quality of real life.

Here’s to Opportunity!

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