We become like what we follow. The Southern Baptist Church thrives on fear and exclusion, and Jesus operates through love and inclusion. I am a follower of Jesus; and through Jesus I am part of a royal priesthood—a holy people, with the freedom to co-create with God a more loving and peaceful existence that is not confined to or defined by anyone’s religious or political agendas.
I am American in some ways and Asian in others, but the data points are unceasingly in flux. This is not to say that the cultural blend isn’t interesting and beautiful in its own way, just that it can be murky and confusing at times.
There once was a young boy and just like all the boys in his town, on his 11th birthday his father gifted him a house and a bride. After his father left, the boy turned to his new bride and smiled cheerfully, “Hello. My name is George.” She stared at the boy unable to understand […]
The fragments of our scattered grandparents had to be pieced together so that we had something, anything, to shield us from this cold reality. But a quilt is just a blanket if it has no meaning.
It seems easy to say I’m, “mixed race.” But I’ve always been extremely hesitant to claim this identity. Racism is such an acidic, destructive poison, that it felt wrong to claim a role that comes with vitriol I never felt. I didn’t want to be like those white people who claim to be 1/16 Cherokee, as if to say, “I can’t be racist, I’m not even white!”
At some point, my friend interrupted me and asked, “Roze, what do you want from white people?”
In a very exasperated voice I said, “I want people not to be racists and I don’t want to have to teach them!” To this my friend replied, “People genuinely don’t know what to do.” I sighed at this response. And then something happened. My friend forced me to articulate what I wanted from white folks. And this is where my understanding of who I am and how I show up in the world and what this means actually comes into play.