Choose To Be A Light

by: Martha Tyler

They built a community.

Welcome to the barb-wire-bound, sage scented, dust infused, deserted Idaho desert, sentry tower tall and spraddling.

Welcome to Camp Minidoka War Relocation Center, aka Hunt Camp.

Internment center for 10,000, Jerome, Idaho.

Shigata ga nai:  It can’t be helped.

Executive Order Number 9066

February 19, 1942

Ten thousand Americans incarcerated here.

Their crime: Japanese ancestry.

Citizenship was no defense (two-thirds were).

Businesses closed, farms shut down, suitcases packed,

Ten thousand imprisoned at Camp Minidoka.

They built, farmed, taught, played, cried, celebrated, persevered,

Creating a self-sustaining community, transforming desert into bounty.

Baseball, swimming, schools, machine shops, Boy and Girl Scouts,

Churches, Post Office, Painting,

Resilience pouring forth from tar paper barracks.

They swore allegiance to their country. Hundreds joined the military,

Fought and died for the Great Land that excoriated them.

Nidato nai yoni:  Let it not happen again.

1983 Congressional Commission report:

“The broad historical causes which shaped these decisions were race prejudice, war hysteria, and a failure of government leadership.”

How familiar today.

In the background and the foreground, centuries of enslavement, oppression, brutality, patriarchy, and white, white, white supremacy.

In the veins, in the bones, in the cells.

Let it not happen again?

LET IT STOP.

Let us love and learn and serve enough to create change.

In July, I visited Minidoka National Historic Site, a windswept, barren, sage-strewn high desert area in south central Idaho.  My friend and I were the only people on the self-guided tour, and as we progressed, the camp came to life in our imaginations.  Children swam in the small pool created from a canal/irrigation ditch, men and women hauled baskets of potatoes from adjacent fields to store in an underground building (built by them), boys practiced baseball on a large field and rubbed the dust out of their eyes, women arranged home-grown flowers or painted.  Dozens of tar paper barracks and multiple wooden buildings reappeared (thanks to the excellent map we studied).  The resilience and perseverance of these Americans, incarcerated because they looked like the enemy (ie, not Caucasian), was astounding.  

This tragic, traumatic, racist, and inhumane situation is all too familiar.  Today (and for centuries) people of color in this country endure discrimination and disparities in health care, employment, education, housing, and multiple opportunities.  A history of violence and genocide is the legacy of the dominant white culture. WE KNOW THIS.  Plenty of data supports these statements.  No surprises here.

However, what the dominant white culture implicitly and often unconsciously accepts and abides in, is a racist structure deeply embedded in the bones of our society…and in our bodies.  In her book Caste, Isabel Wilkerson states, “A caste system is an artificial construction, a fixed and embedded ranking of human value that sets the presumed supremacy of one group against the presumed inferiority of other groups on the basis of ancestry and often immutable traits, traits that would be neutral in the abstract but are ascribed life-and-death meaning in a hierarchy favoring the dominant caste whose forebears designed it. A caste system uses rigid, often arbitrary boundaries to keep the ranked groupings apart, distinct from one another and in their assigned places.”  She distinguishes between caste and race:  they are neither synonymous or mutually exclusive.  “Caste is fixed and rigid.  Race is fluid and superficial, subject to periodic redefinition to meet the needs of the dominant caste in what is now the United States.”

A recent Ipsos poll found that since the death of George Floyd in May, only thirty percent of white Americans have personally taken any actions to better understand racial issues in America.  Pollster Mallory Newall stated, “Most Americans acknowledge that there is racism built into American systems, but at the core there is still a significant gap in willingness to do the work between white Americans and people of color.”  Doing the work is essential to increase awareness and sustain changes.

Because race and caste are so deeply integrated in culture and systems, the work of social/racial justice requires mindfulness, perseverance, compassion, and commitment. In her book The Inner Work of Racial Justice Rhonda Magee comments, “Mindful racial justice seeks to alleviate not merely isolated incidents of racial suffering, but all suffering caused by racism—including suffering that is very hard to see. This necessarily presents a profound invitation to a lifelong practice of awakening that seeks greater liberation and justice for all.” 

I see this work as spiritual practice and a lifelong endeavor.  How can a heart be at peace when eradicable and blatant inequity exists nearby and all over this land?

Racial justice work is rooted in one’s own inner work, and for me, involves the practices of mindfulness, loving kindness, compassion and self compassion.  “The failure to root social justice efforts on the bedrock of a strong inner life and lived-out values can endanger the most idealistic efforts,” (Rob Corcoran, Trustbuilding:  An Honest Conversation on Race, Reconciliation, and Responsibility).  Self-righteousness and condemnation/contempt for others who are not “awake” are dangers associated with this work.  As Howard Thurman wisely stated, “The root of what I condemn in others is found at long last in the soil of my own backyard.  What I seek to eradicate in society, I must first attack in my own heart and life.”

There is no syllabus for anyone who is delving into this work, and I am stumbling about like many, feeling humbled by all there is to learn.  Each of us white-passing folks must find our way, without asking for help from people of color (who are tired of being asked), and educate ourselves.  We must mindfully resist the default of sitting back in the comfort, safety, and security of our whiteness, but rather take refuge in the practices of the heart, seek opportunities for meaningful and sometimes difficult conversations, and persevere in our efforts.  Kate Davies (Intrinsic Hope) comments that the crises of both racism and climate change are “caused by the inherently harmful economic, political, and social systems that dominate Western culture” and on the misguided beliefs that underlie these systems.  The task of restructuring these systems and changing values/beliefs “is not a task that we can complete in our lifetimes, but with perseverance it is a task we can dedicate our lives to.”

This work of racial/social/environmental justice is spiritual work and it is grounded in the heart.  In the words of meditation teacher and author Ruth King (Mindful of Race), “Practice transforms racism from the inside out.  Don’t be afraid of getting your heart broken.  Do your work, say your prayers, then do your best. Grieve, rest, keep hate at bay, and join with others for refuge.  Don’t get too far ahead of now!  This moment is enough to digest…Allow racial distress to teach you how to be more human.  Sit in the heat of it until your heart is both warmed and informed, then make a conscious choice to be a light.”

I have learned much from and am thankful for the following teachers, friends, activists, and leaders:

Marcia Fudge, Duran Chavis, Randee Humphrey, Rebecca Keel, Susanne Wilbur, Hollee Freeman, Brooke Taylor, Carolina Bautista-Velez, Edwuan Whitehead, Rachel Douglas, Susan Wilkes, Philip and Kay Davidson, Sheila Battle, John Taylor, Korantemah Pierce Williams, BeKura Shabazz, Jase Hatcher, Cheryl Groce-Wright, Ram Bhagat, Ebony Walden, David Campt, Jabriel Hasan, Matthew Freeman, Emmy Rusniak, Shateny Jackson, Patricia Parks, Catherine Estevez, Allan Chipman, Emmanuel Ekekwe, Maren Larson, Simone Washington