Crossing the Great Divide Part II

“Disparate treatment leads to disparate impact.”

In an earlier post, I started with the above quote.  I said I would get back to it in my next post...I fibbed.  I wrote another post in-between and it's been more than a few weeks since I did that.  

Since I wrote part I, on this subject, another young black man has died at the hands of the police. This time, it happened in Baltimore, Maryland.  This, too, has triggered riots and racial discord.  The six policemen involved have been charged with homicide.  Time will tell if a jury finds them guilty, but for now, the investigation has found them worthy of being held accountable for their actions.  A step in the right direction.

It feels, to me, like an uprising.  A revolution.  A time that we must all evaluate just how we, personally, contribute to the racial discord...intentionally or unintentionally.  

Let me just say that, I, in no way, shape or form condone the rioting.  I guess, "two wrongs don't make it right" applies for me here.  I also don't believe that most anyone does.  Black, white, pink or purple.  With that said, as I continue my path of "Crossing the Great Divide", I'm willing to look at and consider my contribution, and most definitely not an intentional one, to the situation.  I invite you to take this path with me...

When this all first came about, last August, 2014, and as I wrote about in my first blog post on this subject, I took a step which involved having a discussion with a black man.  I wanted a better understanding and a different perspective.  After all, aren't most opinions and biases based on our own personal experiences...albeit it, perspectives.

When I sat down with Pastor B, a youth minister at the church we're going to, he explained to me the black person's plight, and I would bet, most generally speaking, the black man's plight.  This is when he used the term, “Disparate treatment leads to disparate impact.”  I had to have him explain it to me.  This is what he said, 

"Disparate treatment is when you have people experiencing the same or similar situations but consistently receiving different or unequal treatments.

Disparate impact is the results of disparate treatment.  The impact of continual disproportionate treatment. How that treatment has effected people."

These two terms are important and have really stuck with me.  I think they are worthy of everyone's consideration and something to remember...in all our life experiences.  Here's a loosely based analogy.

Let's look at the hot topic within our schools; BULLYING.  A person gets singled out, time and again, for whatever reason.  Let's say it happened to his father and to his father before him.  They had the same tendencies, personality traits, their walk of life never had changed, generation to generation.  The grandfather was bullied, the father was bullied and so is the son. 

After awhile, it plays on their psyche.  Their confidence.  Who they are and how they feel about themselves.  It's constant and relentless behavior on the part of the ones doing the bullying.  The conversations in the home are ones of defeat, poor image, self doubt.  No one stands up to the bullying...no one comes to the rescue.  Because of the way they have been treated, time and again, the results are how it has effected the family.

To me, this is what is happening in the black community.  In easy terms, there has been a lifetime of bullying.  That lifetime of bullying has reached it's pressure point and we see it in the "acting out" of their frustrations, anger, disappointments and struggles.  No, I don't get it!  But, I never will...it's not my journey.  But, I can try to open up my eyes to their struggles.  I can learn to ask the questions and enter into a conversation to get a different perspective.  

I've done it time and again...spouted off my opinion, based on "my" view, without really considering how someone else may be feeling about the same situation.  How something is effecting them.  However, if we think about it, don't we have more compassion for someone that has gone through a similar situation, let's say, the death of their grand parent.  We can relate.  We have some knowledge of what they are feeling.  I want to attempt to think about another's "perspective" before forming my biased opinion and SHARING it.  It's a struggle...sometimes it's out there before I take a breath.  OR, worse yet, before I've even really thought about the situation.  I'm really trying to do better.

Crossing the Great Divide...I've started the process and I know I have someone that I can go to to chat with on this subject.  He honored my "lack of knowledge" by respecting me and understanding my naivety.  I started the conversation with an upfront apology.  Asking him to understand I was not coming from a place of intentional disrespect or hurtfulness.  Really, I was coming from a place of ignorance...on the subject.  

In my next post on this subject, I'll write about his comment, "
“No conversation starts at an argument, it escalates to aggression.”  It again, opened my eyes to how "things" get started.  With our friends, our spouse and especially our children.  Stay tuned.  

Please leave a comment here...I'd appreciate your thoughts.  Feel free to share with your friends, as well. #disparateimpact #disparatetreatment #racialdiscord #blackmansfight #racerelations #conversationswithablackman #crossingthegreatdivide

Crossing the great divide…one HUGE step in the right direction. Part 1.

“Disparate treatment leads to disparate impact.”

“No conversation starts at an argument, it escalates to aggression.”

These are two quotes from a middle aged man I had a great conversation with.  I want you to think about them.  A rather handsome guy, a Christian, smart and much more ‘worldly’ than I. His history goes deep and he was raised in the south.  Memphis, to be exact…in the ghetto!

The idea and experiences that go into the writing of this blog post began many, many years ago; as a young girl…almost 40 years ago now.  I went to school in the NE part of Des Moines, Iowa.  Not the “east side”, which was a couple blocks away (the boundary line).  The two blocks might as well have been 2000 miles, really, in what I was accustomed to; acquainted with.  The differences within the walls, schools, neighborhoods and community.  More color…more culture…more diversity…more racial conflict.  Two blocks away!  And, Des Moines was worlds different than Memphis.

My school boundary lines started, as I stated, two blocks from where I lived, which meant that I did not go to a school within “city” limits.  We lived on the county side of Polk County.  We were predominately a Caucasian school.  I’m trying to think if we even had a person of “color” in elementary, as I write this, I’m reminded of one family of Hispanics.  We didn’t even have a huge difference in economic status.  We were raised in a very naïve, sheltered and culturally deficient environment (IMO)

However, in Jr. High, that changed a bit…a very small bit.  There were a couple more Hispanic families.  And, only a couple, that I recall.  Then, one day, a young black man came to our school.  Then, during black history month, we had a class outing to a Jr. High School in Des Moines. The student body was predominately black.  I realized for the very first time in my 13-14 years what it was like to be a minority.    It was one of the best days of my childhood.  I was intrigued, I was enlightened, I was interested.  That has never left me.  

To this day, I still do NOT have one girlfriend of “color”. I am 53 years old.  I have one that is German, one that is Finnish, one that is Japanese and a couple that are from Australia. How shallow is that!  Even more…how sad is that!  I’m on a mission to change that.  Not to have a ‘token’ black friend or Hispanic, or any other ethnically different friend…but, so I learn and grow and become a better person…for me, my family, and community and beyond.

We have hosted exchange students.  I had a pen-pal from Korea when I was in grade school.  Engaging with those with different backgrounds is very important to me and I love it.  I thrive on it as a matter of fact. 

Okay, are you wondering where I’m going with this?  Let’s fast forward to about a year and a half ago.  I and my husband, Steve, had quit going to our church; for various reasons.  Out of the blue, I sent a message to an “acquaintance”…not really a friend-friend.  I asked her if she was aware of any Bible studies in our area.  She replied, “We are going to start one in September”.  Now, how odd is that?  We started with the Life group that September and a year and a half later, we’re still going and have been a part of their church for a year.  These things, to me, are God things.  I have no other explanation, nor am I interested in looking for another.  That is my Faith in action. 

We knew the church would be different than our Methodist experience.  We knew it would be a bit more vocal, musical and a bit more charismatic.  What we were not anticipating was the diversity. Specifically, the number of black people.  Well, I was instantly intrigued, enlightened and interested. 

Last August, the Sunday after the Ferguson shooting, where a young black man was killed by a white police officer and riots ensued, our pastor said something to the effect of this:  In this church, we have an opportunity to reach out to each other. We are rich in diversity…ethnic, cultural, religious, political and generational.  We should be sitting down with each other having conversations.  Asking the question…how does this affect you?  How are you feeling about what is going on?  Rather than set out with our opinions and feelings and irritations.  That really made me think to myself, how often do I do just that.  I like to think that I’m pretty open minded.  But, I was struggling within myself.  

A few days later, the man I referenced above posted something on Facebook (I had reached out to him and a few others in the church early on through FB).  He was sharing an incidence that had occurred with his son.  His words, ”if this isn’t racial profiling”…made me stop in my thoughts.  I was irritated by this.  Then, the pastor’s words came back to me. I was INSPIRED to do just what was suggested; I needed to reach out and sit down and have a conversation with this man.  Find out where his thoughts and words were coming from. It took us awhile to get it done, but, we did.  I’m so grateful that he was open to doing this.  My first real conversation with a black person in 53 years of living.  

We were comfortable with each other.  My first question to him was, “is it okay to refer to you/black people as ‘blacks’?  Can you believe it?  But, that is how naïve I am.  I didn’t want to offend him.  I also made it clear that I had no intentions to offend, and if I said something wrong or hurtful, it was coming from a place of not knowing.  He assured me that it was fine.  

We talked about several things, but the two quotes at the beginning of this post have stuck with me and I’ve shared them with several people.  The comments started me on my way to crossing the great divide.  To listen, to learn and understand.  I invite you on this journey with me.  I’ll endeavor to explain the meaning behind the two quotes in my next post.