The Privilege of Vulnerability ©
Reverend Janet Parsons
Gloucester UU Church
March 12, 2023
They haven’t caught the vandal or vandals that spray-painted hate messages on 16 businesses and the local synagogue in Portsmouth, New Hampshire late in February. But the story has stayed with me. For those who weren’t here last Sunday, I told the story of the City of Portsmouth waking up on the morning of February 21 to discover spray-painted swastikas and hateful messages on the windows of shops and at the temple. As you may remember, many people responded by joining forces downtown to bring flowers to the affected businesses and the temple, and participating in a community response named “Love Blooms Here.”
I was moved by the response – the thought of people stepping outside their own homes to publicly show their solidarity. In the face of this kind of hatred it would be all too easy to hide in our houses, and to try to pretend that this hadn’t happened.
We seem to be heading into a time in our country where this sort of response is going to be asked of us more and more, everywhere. The presence of hate groups is on the rise, not just in New Hampshire, but all throughout the United States, including in Massachusetts. The most recent information I could find was a Southern Poverty Law Center report from 2021 that indicated that there are 14 identified hate groups present in Massachusetts. That is sobering. They include anti-Semitic groups, as well as anti-LGBTQ groups, and white supremacists.
Our theme this month is Vulnerability. My message last week, the paradox that I explored with you, was that we can be strengthened through vulnerability. I suggested that by allowing ourselves to be vulnerable, to take more risks, that we actually strengthen our communities. This seeming paradox is valid in our personal lives as well: by sharing our griefs, our worries, and our fears with one another, we strengthen our ties to each other, and find ourselves held by a strong web of caring community. We are stronger together in many ways.
And so, as these hate groups begin to spring up in our midst, with their marches, their weapons, their late-night graffiti, all their attempts to intimidate us and frighten us into silence, we strengthen ourselves and our communities by responding publicly. We put up Black Lives Matter signs, we raise rainbow flags, and we show up when we are asked to. This is vital work right now, to be willing to take risks, to step forward, to be visible.
But there is yet another paradox for us to consider as we step up, as we take risks. The paradox is that in being willing to risk our safety, we are demonstrating our privilege.
Yes, it is a privilege to allow ourselves to be vulnerable. This is another way in which the privilege of having light skin, of being straight, of being cis-gendered, shows up. Privilege isn’t always about economic advantage. Privilege appears in the way we are allowed to move and act; where we feel that we belong. It’s safer for some of us to take risks than for others.
This week marks the third anniversary of the declaration by the World Health Organization of the global coronavirus pandemic, so I have been thinking about that a lot, remembering some of the stories from that time. I remember when we were suddenly urged to wear masks in public. As I’m sure you recall, there was a wide range of responses to that strong recommendation. I remember one story in particular: a black man was interviewed, who said that in no way, shape or form was he going to be willing to walk into a store, or a bank, or any public place wearing a mask. I don’t recall his exact words, but he said something like this: that as a Black man, he was already seen as suspect, as threatening, when out in public, and he could not take the risk of masking and appearing even more dangerous.
We talked last week about how we all have different risk tolerances, and different calculations when it comes to what acceptable risk looks like. And certain groups in our society have such different experiences and receive different responses, that we simply cannot imagine how they perceive their choices, their risks. So often, their experiences are invisible to us. We need to hear stories such as this to be reminded that for that man, the risk of contracting Covid was less compelling than the risk of ending up in the hands of the police.
The author of our reading this morning, Matthew Henry, described a memory of being asked by his teacher to imagine his role in the American Revolution. He wrote,
“(I) asked if she wanted me to pretend to be white,
or to picture myself for sale on the steps of Faneuil Hall…”
Even at the age of nine, Mr. Henry knew it was unlikely that he could be part of the story of the Revolution. But it didn’t occur to his teacher.
We simply cannot assume that we share all the same experiences, or that our skin color, sexual orientation, or family backgrounds can lead us all to the same actions, the same conclusions, or to take the same risks.
So yes, most of us should be willing to step up publicly and resist hatred. But many of us will not be able to take that risk. They do not share the same privilege. This was made clear to me in an article that quoted a woman named Jenn Jackson, who is a contributor to Teen Vogue. Dr. Jackson commented that, “the cost of courage for a Black person in America is high, because we are trying to find the courage to speak out against racism, the courage to protest the killings of innocent Black people, and the courage to fight for equality in a country that literally hates our existence.” https://drcareyyazeed.com/the-dangers-of-courage-culture-and-why-brene-brown-isnt-for-black-folk/
This comment was made as part of an online conversation about Brene Brown, the popular author and speaker who has written extensively about vulnerability and courage in books such as The Gift of Imperfection, Daring Greatly, and The Power of Vulnerability. Her work is important and valuable. And yet, it is incomplete, and Black voices are needed to be heard so that we may understand what is missing from her writing. Who among us had ever noticed?
The author of the article in which Dr. Jackson is quoted, Dr. Carey Yazeed, had this to say:
“We as Black women have to read the courageous writings of white women through a different lens, understanding that this is her experience, and yours, no matter how bad you want it to align, never will. When Brene Brown talks about vulnerability and courage, she isn’t talking to you or about you.” (Ibid.)
A different lens.
A Black man reluctant to wear a mask, even if it could save his life.
A Black boy enthralled by stories of the American Revolution but knowing that he didn’t have a place in the narrative.
Black women reading about courage and vulnerability, and not seeing themselves and their experiences or needs reflected in the research.
A different lens. Different vulnerability, and different risks to consider.
Life is very risky for many people in our country these days. There are too many people who are utterly determined to take rights away from anyone who isn’t just like them. And so we have the tightening restrictions on voting. We have the vulnerability of women of childbearing ages who are now at risk of not being able to obtain proper treatment for pregnancies that threaten their lives. But recently, the issue that seems to be garnering a great deal of attention is that of treatment of transgender people. One article I read commented that 2022 was the worst year on record for anti-LGBTQ laws being proposed, particularly laws prohibiting gender-affirming care for youth. We are used to what are called ‘bathroom bills’, that try to police which restrooms people choose, as well as who can play on which youth sports teams, and lately we are hearing more and more about drag shows. Most of this has felt superficial, just noise made for the sake of sound bites in the media. But the rhetoric is growing much darker. Just last weekend there were frightening speeches at the Conservative Political Action Conference, or CPAC. CPAC is an annual conference attended by conservative politicians and activists, and it usually creates headlines as people vie for the attention of the right-wing base. But last weekend, one speaker, a man named Michael Knowles, said this: “for the good of society…transgenderism must be eradicated from public life entirely—the whole preposterous ideology, at every level.” (in “Letters from an American,” Heather Cox Richardson, March 10, 2023)
Eradicated. Now of course, he claimed later that he wasn’t talking about people, only about their beliefs. But of course, being transgender, or gay, or lesbian, or non-binary, isn’t a belief, or a choice. It’s a fundamental attribute, a defining characteristic, of some human beings. And so we must – we are forced to – confront what is being said here about the safety of these people.
It feels as though we are at a crossroads.
In this moment, I am reminded of the famous words of the German pastor Martin Niemoller, written at the end of World War II:
“First they came for the Communists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Communist
Then they came for the Socialists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Socialist
Then they came for the trade unionists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a trade unionist
Then they came for the Jews
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Jew
Then they came for me
And there was no one left
To speak out for me.”
As we have seen throughout history, we cannot simply let marginalized and oppressed populations fend for themselves. They experience risks that we are only partially aware of, and are vulnerable in ways that we are not. So yes, it’s up to us to use what privilege we might have, whether it is the privilege of skin color, or gender, to protect those who are more vulnerable. Remember the words we spoke together earlier in our service:
We need one another when we would accomplish some great purpose, and cannot do it alone…All our lives we are in need, and others are in need of us.
My hope for us all is that we will be attentive, that we will keep watching, and keep resisting hate, to respond to the needs of others who are more vulnerable than ourselves.
Blessed Be.
Amen.
