Scandal, The Black Church, and What (Still) Needs to Be ‘Handled’

I read a blog post recently, Why I Hate Scandal (and Other Negro Bed Wenches), spelling out one viewer’s disdain for the premise of the storyline surrounding Olivia Pope. The writer of this blog, whose penname is Grits Capone, basically provides a back-history of the Sally Hemmings/Thomas Jefferson affair saga and explicates the fact that Scandal looks to compromise the integrity of Black women by objectifying main character Olivia Pope into a role which is controversial due to her sexually adulterous affair with the very married, very White, and very powerful President of the United States.[1] I am not completely convinced of this blogger’s comparison of Olivia Pope to a Negro bed wench, yet I am neither unconcerned about the image the show projects into society as to the identity of Black women. Nonetheless, I offer the subject of Grits Capone’s personal blog not as a sacred text into the proceeding conversation, but rather as a precipice for euphemism. Imagine with me the White House as the typical racist-sexist-capitalist patriarchal society, the President as the personification of the Black Church, and Olivia Pope as the Black women who are members of that institution – you then find yourself in the reality of what it means to navigate the sexual-gender myths and socially constructed oppressions waiting in heat for the next person to seduce.

Let me be clear, I am not typecasting all Black women into the role and character of Olivia Pope or categorizing all Black Churches as the adulterous POTUS. However, I am lodging the argument that many Black women find themselves in a crisis between identity and integrity, love and labor at the hands of the male dominated Black Church. I believe that this is the anatomy Scandal writer, Shonda Rhimes, is speaking to – the societal rules that made the premise of Scandal provocative and available. I posit that this is precisely the dichotomy of the sexual-gender struggle as outlined by Marcia Riggs in her work Plenty Good Room: Women Versus Male Power in the Black Church. Shonda Rhimes does an eloquently masterful job at portraying the codes and structures that exist as the social construct for who the President should appear to be to the public and who Olivia Pope should NOT be. It is the same idea of social construction that leads to sexual-gender myths within the Black Church that exist as a means to dictate who Black men should appear to be and who Black women should not be. Marcia Riggs includes a poignant argument by bell hooks stating:

Once the [civil rights] struggle was perceived as won…then one assertion of our new freedom was to make mainstream socialization about gender roles the norm in black life. In the age of integration, black men asserted masculinist subjectivity not by vigilantly challenging white supremacy but by first insisting on the subordination of women, particularly black women. Suddenly, black men who would never have access to jobs within this capitalist framework that would allow them to provide for families could still feel themselves to be “men.” Manhood had been redefined. Manhood was not providing and protecting; it was proved by one’s capacity to coerce, control, dominate.[2]

It is along this vein that many Black women and Black men find their strained relations within the Black Church. According to Riggs, it is the racist-sexist-capitalist patriarchy that maligns the Church pews with dogmatic strictures forecasting Black men to perpetuate the subordination of Black women and compelling Black women to attempt the subversion of oppression.

In sum, the sexual-gender relations of African American women and men are mostly reactive rather than creative responses to racist-sexist-capitalist oppression under which they both labor. Indeed, their sexual-gender relations are “a kind of social reproductive shadow work” that sustains white racist-sexist-capitalist patriarchal norms for womanhood and manhood.[3]

From my vantage point, this reactive response that leads to ‘social reproductive shadow work’ is what many overlook in the argument over the acceptability of Scandal. The argument is not really about the sexual prowess of a Black woman subverting the power of the land, nor the exploitation of masculine ideals of power; rather, it is the reactive response to the oppressive structure set in place that necessitates such behavior on both parties that should be in question. This same misjudgment happens in the Black Church. Many people are stagnated in argument over the conduct of Black men or the conduct of Black women; however, it is imperative that we investigate “the way that social myths describe and prescribe reality.”[4]

                According to Marcia Y. Riggs, the reality is a “moral corruption...[that] refers to the inconsistency between the black church’s steadfast pursuit of justice with respect to racial and economic oppression while not pursuing sexual-gender justice, and consequently [the church] becom[es] a site of sexual-gender oppression.”[5] When it is understood that the Black Church is a place in which social myths are often times taught and tethered to its traditions, it is clear that its members, then, are left with little choice as to the parts they will play in its dramatic scenes. Not unlike the complexly woven script of Scandal, Riggs includes a critical assessment of the Black church saying:

…this man and this woman enact prescribed roles for being male and female – sexual-gender scripts – into which they have been socialized according to the values operative in this context. In the sexual-gender oppressive African American church, the values inconsistency – justice versus “control of women” – that stands at the heart of the church’s moral life becomes the driving force behind why male clergy and laywomen have relationships that deny their own self-actualization.[6]

To combat this moral corruption lurking in the Black Church, Riggs proposes the requisite to re-socialize and transform the sexual-gender morality held captive in the institution. Therefore, it is the moral imperative of the Black Church to invest in the “counter-socialization of African American women and men with respect to sexual-gender mythology and roles.”[7]

                While Marcia Riggs discusses the pivotal moments reached in sexual-gender relations dating back to as recently as 1999 and 2000 (during which a female minister “won a sexual harassment case against the African Methodist Episcopal Church” and the “same denomination elected its first female bishop”), I found that it was difficult to find empirical data that illustrates disparity between the sexual-gender relation in the Black Church.[8] While the General Commission on the Status and Role of Women reports that clergywomen earn 13 percent less than clergymen, this is inclusive of all ethnicities and does not speak to the more specific sexual-gender struggle on-going in the Black Church.[9] The woman who was elected first bishop of the AME Church, Bishop Vashti Murphy McKenzie, writes in her book Not Without A Struggle:

In spite of these achievements, patterns of institutional discrimination continue to limit women in ministry. Clergywomen still face an uphill battle for pulpit assignments. Resistance to change has become more subtle than overt. Distant locations and low wages continue to plague both women and young men in ministry.[10]

I believe that the lack of statistical data illustrating the sexual-gender issues in the Black Church is a direct reflection of how much opposition the institution lodges against working toward more inclusive change and how much more re-socialization of moral codes needs to be handled by its leadership and members.

                Plenty Good Room may as well have been my own personal diary written indelibly on the pages of my life as a Black woman preacher/minister. Even as I begin to consider where to break the placenta of the impregnated womb of my experience with discrimination within the Black Church, I can hear the voices of Black men and women of old begging me to hold off on delivering my truth. But it is time for the water to break, time for the truth to be told. Though some of Marcia Riggs’ scenarios could have been read (and dismissed) as fictional or hypothetical accounts that were only isolated instances or fabricated fables, they capture the story of my life in a very real and honest way. I remember when I first informed my very conservative Baptist Pastor of my calling into ministry. I didn’t think that this would come as much of a surprise to him – seeing as though I was Youth Director (Youth Minister in all actuality) and actively involved with the Young Adult ministry as well – but still, he looked back at me with such a sad bewilderment.  He answered me with a well-rehearsed soliloquy about the works of Apostle Paul and the proper role of a woman within the Church.  He brought out a King James Version Bible, and read all the Scriptures of, or relating to, the idea that women should not usurp authority over man. He did not leave one Scripture out, having to do with women, either. He read every single one. I suppose it wasn’t the content of the message he was relaying back to me; rather, it was the tone with which he felt compelled to correct me. Instead of hearing my heart and using spiritual discernment, he immediately stiff-armed me with an antiquated Baptist adopted doctrine. I felt so voiceless. Since when had accepting a calling been made to feel like blasphemy? And why were Paul’s words so much more important than those of Jesus?

                It quickly became apparent to me that even Jesus was preached into a realm of double standards. After all, the same man that had taught me how to know Jesus, love Jesus, and be like Jesus was the same man who was now telling me that Jesus did not speak to me or permit me to do the same things as men. How, then, would I love a Jesus who denies me? And, how would I ever be like a Jesus who rejects me?  Needless to say, when I answered my call to ministry it was anything but exhilarating. As evident in the meeting with my Pastor, I could tell he probably never wrestled with his theology on women in ministry. That much was an obvious observation with how stoically and quickly he attempted to abort the truth of my calling. Yet, in all honesty, I was no different than him.  I had been half-way avoiding, half-way aborting my calling for months. Not because I didn’t know Who was calling me. Not because I didn’t understand what the calling was. But, simply, because I had never wrestled with knowing that it was okay for me to accept a calling for myself.  The thought of it, accepting a calling as a woman, made me feel as though I was spiritually in error due to the tradition in which I had been raised my whole life. I think that this is the substance Marcia Riggs works so diligently to unmask in the Black Church – the “values inconsistency” that allows both men and women alike to continually limit the work of God by limiting one another. These self-imposed and opposite-gender imposed limitations continue to fain the forward progress of the Church because it postures itself as a part of the tradition. However, we must come to understand that it is not tradition at all, rather it is traditionalism. What is more is that it is "traditionalism that is the dead faith of the living, and tradition that this the living faith of the dead."[11]

                I have many other grievous personal accounts similar to the scenarios of discrimination written about in Plenty Good Room, but I am more convicted to share my hermeneutic of disclosure as a Black woman preacher and theologian-to-be. In Scandal, the President’s wife, Mellie, is antagonistic and intent on protecting Fitz and provoking Olivia Pope.  She reminds me, interestingly, of Peninnah as found in 1 Samuel chapter 1 of the Holy Bible. Peninnah, one of two wives of Elkanah, focused on provoking her sister-wife, Hannah, who had not been able to bear Elkanah any children. Referring back to the aforementioned euphemism of Scandal, if the President is the Black Church personified, then I like to view Mellie as the traditionalism, alive through both men and women, that attempts provoke and poke fun at women who have not been able to successfully bear forth ministry within the Black Church. Mellie experiences satisfaction knowing Olivia Pope cannot have what she really wants. Similarly, Peninnah relies on the fact that “Lord had closed [Hannah’s] womb”[12] much like oppression in the Black Church relies on the fact that women are not supposed to bring forth ministry. But here is where my hermeneutic of disclosure comes into play. Read this closely: Peninnah’s efforts of antagonism DO NOT WORK. Mellie’s efforts of antagonism do not work. It is already being shown in Scandal that Olivia Pope continues to defy Mellie’s attempts to provoke her. And, we see in the Bible that Hannah defies Peninnah’s pestilence by doing exactly what she said she could not.  Both Mellie and Peninah discount the fact that they are not in control. Likewise, those who continue to perpetuate harmful social myths and sexual-gender oppression within the Black Church are overlooking the fact that they, too, are not in control. Antagonism of God-ordained progress will never prosper in what it set out to do. It is this disclosure, understanding that my Peninnah (i.e. the sexist traditionalism of the Baptist Church) did not get to decide if I accepted my calling or not, that elevated me into doing exactly what sexual-gender oppression said I could not. Who is the judge? The judge is God. Why is He God? Because He decides who wins or loses. Not my opponent.[13] And certainly not my oppressor either.

                As I related earlier, there is not much accessible data in existence which corroborates the stories of Black women who are very much the Soles of the Black Church. I would be very interested to create a cadre of Black women in ministry and leadership in various locations within the mainline Black Church traditions who would conduct surveys into the perceptions and participation of Black women relating to sexual-gender oppression in the Church.  I would also like to conduct the same study as to the perceptions and participation of Black men relating to sexual-gender oppression in the Church. Approaching this topic from both genders would be helpful in appropriating how men and women view relations in the Black Church and in identifying how one another is complicit in the discrimination of certain parties.

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[1] Grits Capone, “Why I Hate Scandal (and Other Negro Bed Wenches),” May 23, 2013, http://deeperthangrits.com/2013/05/23/why-i-hate-scandal-and-other-negro-bed-wenches/

[2] Marcia Y. Riggs, Plenty Good Room: Women Versus Male Power in the Black Church, (Eugene: Wipf and Stock Publishers, 2008), 42.

[3] Riggs, 54.

[4] Riggs, 41.

[5] Riggs, 86.

[6] Riggs, 87.

[7] Riggs, 99.

[8] Riggs, 10.

[9] Kristen Knudson, “Women by the Numbers,” November 2011, http://www.gcsrw.org/WomenClergypersonsofColorEarnLess.aspx

[10] Vashti Murphy McKenzie, Not Without A Struggle: Leadership Development for African American Women in Ministry, (Cleveland: Pilgrim Press, 2011), Location 1274.
[11] Jaroslav Pelikan, 1989 interview, http://harpers.org/archive/2008/12/hbc-90004089

[12] “1 Samuel 1 (New Revised Standard Version)” in Bible Gateway, http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1%20samuel%201&version=NRSV

[13] The Great Debaters, DVD, directed by Denzel Washington (2007; Metro Goldwyn Myer)

Wearing the Veil. Without Being the Bride (Pt. 2)

    After taking some time to assess and reflect, I realize that my previous blog on The Souls of Black Folk was missing something. It was missing my own soul. While I still stand behind what I wrote, I think in the midst of my commentary I left out my personality, experience, and frame of reference as a Black woman in America. As soon as I began to truly think upon the insertion of my life into the context of double consciousness today, it didn't take me long to realize that I still tend to wax and wane between my Blackness and my American-ness. I think my struggle is because sometimes I do not want to reconcile these things as mutually exclusive. Why is not my Blackness and my American citizenship a fusion of ONE unique identity? And, there it is. In the moment that I had to ask myself that question - knowing that the answer was the sad truth that America has worked painstakingly to make this an unattainable goal for Blacks- I am forced to reconcile the twoness of my being.

    Below you will see two pictures, both of which are Facebook posts I made in mid-July (actually within one day of each other). Though I didn't realize that the content of my status posts brought to light the double consciousness Du Bois highlights in his writings, this is personal proof that it indeed still exists and pervades the lives of any person of color. Shortly after the Trayvon Martin verdict, I deliberately staged dialogue with my older brother about how strategic he must be as a Black man. Because my parents have worked so hard to keep us away from the 'Jim Crow' Mississippi southern mentality they grew up in, I believe I never really thought about easily my brother could've been Trayvon. I attributed his well-spoken nature, his education, his clean-cut (Kappa-esque) way of carrying himself as things that would invariably keep him away from that 'type of discrimination.' What kind of mess is that?! When did it become okay for me to begin categorizing racism, making some less okay or less harsh than others? It's all the same, yet I believe in the midst of my double consciousness I have come to class racism much the same way America has tried to class our race.

   Even still, as I continue to wrestle I am able to find solace in my faith. After posting the status about my concern as a Black woman for my father and brother (see below), I then thought of the beautiful, unconditional love I had experienced with a group of White women in Bible study. Though it took me a solid 27 years to find this type of unquestioning acceptance, it did give me divine hope that there are times when I can ignore the Veil and double consciousness that plagues me; not because racism has ceased to exist, but simply because for one short moment love didn't fail (1 Corinthians 13:8a). It is because of this circle of women, who successfully allowed every good and just and pure love to ooze out of them, that I considered my identity (Black and American) as one unique identity in Christ. It is too bad that heaven on earth is not yet in effect because that is a feeling of joy that I took much pleasure in experiencing.

   I believe that knowing these two extremes - first, the incredulity that my brother could have been senselessly murdered and next, the audacity of love without walls - is where I find myself desperately searching out my call as a Black, as an American, as a woman, and as a Christian. I know double consciousness is real because racism is real. But how can we as Black people explore our faith past these boundaries? Is it possible? Apart of me would like to conjecture that in brief one and half year span of getting to know and love these ladies in Bible study, I was able to see how a fervent and unifying faith of people of all ethnicities conquered a myriad of stereotypes. And if that be so, can the Church affect change in societal stereotypes by uniting across faiths, genders, ethnicities, and sexual orientation? I am reminded of the recent news of Christians forming a circle around bowed down Muslims in prayer in the hostile streets of Egypt. This display for genuine concern for the welfare of human life regardless of background or belief is precisely what the Church could be doing to protect marginalized groups in the U.S. from the big bad wolf of racist/sexist/homophobic America. And for this reason, I pray that within my sphere of influence I will be able to work toward this common goal. A goal of love conquering all.

 

 

Christians protecting Muslims in Egypt. Original story found http://www.myweku.com/2011/11/as-usual-in-egypt-christians-form-a-ring-to-protect-praying-muslim-protesters/

 

Wearing the Veil. Without being the Bride.

*In case you are wondering, the name of this blog is called Engineered Ethics because I am an Electrical Engineer. Though ethics really does not have much to do with engineering, I am happy to infuse my love of words with my love of logic. Also, I plan to always incorporate an original media production into every blog entry as an ode to my technological roots. Enjoy*

            
           The world exists in a three-dimensional realm (excluding the notion of time). As one understands a relative location, there are directional coordinates that correspond to that exact position in space. For example, the x-coordinate signifies an axis moving from left to right, the y-coordinate signifies front to back, and the z-coordinate signifies up and down, respectively. Therefore, any possible location in space can appropriately be pinpointed using these three coordinates. Now, let us approach this coordinate system with knowledge instead of numbers, abstractions rather than absolutions. Let the x-coordinate be the various lengths taken in order to perpetuate the Lie that America has taught its Black children since birth about who they are. And let the y-coordinate be the forward thinking, yet backward reflecting Truth of personal purpose that the Black son or daughter fights so desperately to uncover. Next, let the z-coordinate be the magnitude of the highs and lows of Struggle that the Black soul must endure to wrestle betwixt the Lie and the Truth. Amidst these dogged realities and ravaged dreams, at the point of intersection of these three abstract axes, is the precise location those born Black in America call home.

            When someone blatantly lies to you, regardless of intention, what is the proper course of restitution? One can argue, ultimately, that the first step to right this wrong is to find out the truth. So, what if the lie is not blatant – rather, it exists in what is NOT being said? Does this change the course of action in rectifying the lie? It should not. Yet, this is the plight of the Black in America. As Du Bois beautifully articulates this “double consciousness” in The Souls of Black Folk, the audience is forced to reconcile the reality that to be Black is to be a problem. The blatant lie is that “despite compromise, war, and struggle, the Negro is not free (Du Bois, pg. 24).” Notwithstanding all of the luster and appeal given to this historical event, the Emancipation Proclamation did not simply spell out freedom. In response to this lie, it is not extremely difficult to discover the truth. The truth is that America deliberately replaced the ugly auspices of a physical slavery with systematic emotional and mental bondage such as sharecropping and anti-suffrage. The concealed lie is less easily identifiable if one has not first come to the cathartic realization that his/her whole life has been swaddled in a blanket of fiction. However, once the truth of this lie has been uncovered, a bare bed of covert facades subtly wait for deeper investigation.  This unspoken lie is the reality that America had no plan for the day when the Black human would no longer be enslaved. As much as America tries to make you fit into the tapestry of being an equal part in the Land of the Free, your very being, as a Black person, exposes the denial this country is comfortable in. Blacks were supposed to be the animal that never left the zoo and the experiment that was never supposed to graduate past beta-testing. It is within the implications of these truths encapsulated by non-truths, that Du Bois is able to illuminate the Veil inherent in every Black American.

            Though written in excess of a century ago, Du Bois’ assertion of the Veil is especially poignant and pragmatic; not because it steers a person to ask if the Veil exists, but because it points one to the question of why the Veil exists.  Why does the Veil exist? It exists because Blacks were not ever to be citizens of the United States, only property.  Property only needs record of when it was fabricated and how many owned it in its duration. As the property is passed on from generation to generation, sold, auctioned, or given away, the very life it lives changes shapes and all its significance is lost in translation. The same is true for any Black man or woman. Once our beings were hijacked from the rich soil of our Motherland and our souls were raped of our history in exchange for slavery in America, our significance was lost in translation. As a result, in our hungry searching for our stolen identities, we traded our royalty for what America thought we ought to be. Therefore, the Veil, in a contemporary sense, indicates the inner battle within a Black person’s soul involving the contention between Blackness and American-ness. These silent but deafening arguments contain feelings of being unworthy, unwanted and unloved by the land which kidnapped and adopted you, yet forced to reconcile your existence despite the hostility intrinsic to this environment.

            The Veil, then, represents a plethora of things to its Black participants. It can be representative of the mask we must wear daily as we traverse the world of people who are not also Black. It can signify an unwritten understanding between Black strangers that bonds them to a “common consciousness, sprung from common joy and grief (Du Bois, pg. 41).” Though not stated in Du Bois’ work, one can contend that the Veil can even surmise itself as a sort of boundary line that keeps us protected from the evils of a white-washed world. The Veil, while objective in ideology, takes on a personality that is subjective to its host. The personality it imbibes is a direct correlation to how you choose to handle your double consciousness. For example, if you want to accept a more Americanized way of life that is less visibly congruent with an African identity, then your Veil will encompass the questions that will help you to navigate an assimilated lifestyle. Conversely, if you wish to remain as Black as your Blackness will allow, then your Veil will permit you to address the pride in your heritage. The Veil is not a dead fabric. It is a living, breathing function of your identity. All things considered, one must ask oneself how the Veil will impact daily interactions with those who will never know the feeling of double consciousness. Will the Veil interrupt your thoughts and actions towards others? How will you use the Veil to interpret your dealings with others?

            The existence of the proverbial Veil is not to serve as ornamentation. However, to a certain extent, there is a hermeneutical responsibility that comes along with it. In whatever community you approach, you must know how you intend to operate within the Veil and how, if possible, you can venture past the Veil. Namely, consider the Black church. In the article, “Subversive Joy and Revolutionary Patience in Black Christianity,” Cornel West affirms that “Black people do not attend churches…to find God, but rather to share and expand together the rich heritage that have inherited (West, pg. 437).” In this instance, an inference can be suggested that the Veil plays a vital role in what drives people within the Black church to stay in the Black church. Not because the experience has culminated in a closer relationship with God (though this could be a part of the reason), but only because of the fellowship gained with those who share common experiences as Blacks. If this is true, the Veil could be seen as a hindering crutch rather than a means of communing support. While the Veil still exists, will there ever be a time when our lens will not have to be appropriated by its context? In other words, will a Black person ever be able to choose whether or not to wield the Veil as a means to either protect or preserve him/herself from society? Arguably, a community of faith should be the obvious choice of a place in which God’s love supersedes the color-line. So, then the answer should be yes. Black persons should be able to enjoy worship anywhere and not be confined behind the Veil. Yet, we know that this is not a fair statement. Just because the color-line prescribed by Du Bois is Black and White, issues of acceptance in the faith community are just as gray as they have ever been.

            In conclusion, as we internalize and reflect upon the nature of the Veil, we must ultimately understand its conception and birth. The Veil was conceived when Black truth had non-consensual intercourse with an American lie; and, it was born when America tried to give Blacks a life that was not theirs to give. In the after-birth, or maybe the aftermath, what was left was a gaping hole – a hole that was missing the true history of our people.