Hello, my name is Sterling Griggs, and I am white.
I sometimes hunt and fish and shoot guns. I drive a Ford F150 truck with big mud tires and I even like to listen to country music (80's and 90's only – none of that new "country" stuff, please). If you called me a redneck I would say "whatever" because I could easily point out to you many more people who are truly more country than I pretend to be.
But if you did truly label me as a redneck, I would want to know exactly what you meant by that term. Are you insinuating that I am racist, that I have a confederate flag waving at my house, and that I secretly hope that the south will rise again? If that is how you view a redneck, then I would kindly tell you in response that it is possible to enjoy trucks and the country and hunting and fishing without actually being a racist. Maybe you wouldn't fully understand this because, simply put, you have not lived the way in which the one you are labeling has lived.
What if I was a black man, one who was raised in a distinctly different culture than yours? You know, listening to music that you didn't understand, dressing in ways that were different that you would, living in a community of which you know so very little about? Would you be afraid of me if you saw me on the streets or at the mall? Would you assume that if I was arrested for a crime that it was probably justified, that I was actually guilty? Am I "thug" to you if my hair is in cornrows or maybe even dreads, if I respond differently to life circumstances because I have been treated differently all of my life?
As a follower of Jesus, I could easily quote some Scripture about loving your neighbor and hope that it would stick to all of humanity, but sadly it does not. Do we have a sin problem? You bet we do. Yet to sermonize all of the unrest in our country and our world does very little for the vast majority who do not hold the same worldview as I do. If someone is racist, then there is a different king sitting on his or her throne.
Will I pray for hearts to be changed? I will, starting with my own. But I also have to realize that, from where I stand, I am responsible for so much of what needs to happen to enact change in this world. I cannot point the finger at others and announce that they alone are the problem. It begins with me.
I can remember times where I have stood up for my black brothers and sisters in their presence, decrying the wrong that was being perpetrated against them. If you do not believe that racism against African Americans is a real thing, then I guess you can probably stop reading at this point. But I can also recall times when I was around only those of my color and I chose to do or say nothing when the racist fireballs were being thrown. For that, I am ashamed and I am sorry.
As I see what is going on in our country, I have so many questions and I, too, am angry. Watching cities burn on the news does not bring me peace, even though I understand the anger behind it all. I have sought counsel from friends of color and listened to what they had to say, praying that I could understand how I can be a part of the solution. Over and over again I have heard that I, as a white man, cannot remain silent, yet I have also been urged to take this to mean more than just a social media post or attendance at a rally.
An event or a protest, while on the right track, is not going to ultimately change this country. No, this country will not change until those who CAN stand WILL stand for those who cannot. In the work place, the market, in schools, in the community – when someone of privilege sees injustice against another man or woman who does not share that same privilege, then their voice must be heard and action must be taken. The African American community should not be the first group of people in America to be up in arms when injustices come their way.
It begins with me.
I sometimes hunt and fish and shoot guns. I drive a Ford F150 truck with big mud tires and I even like to listen to country music (80's and 90's only – none of that new "country" stuff, please). If you called me a redneck I would say "whatever" because I could easily point out to you many more people who are truly more country than I pretend to be.
But if you did truly label me as a redneck, I would want to know exactly what you meant by that term. Are you insinuating that I am racist, that I have a confederate flag waving at my house, and that I secretly hope that the south will rise again? If that is how you view a redneck, then I would kindly tell you in response that it is possible to enjoy trucks and the country and hunting and fishing without actually being a racist. Maybe you wouldn't fully understand this because, simply put, you have not lived the way in which the one you are labeling has lived.
What if I was a black man, one who was raised in a distinctly different culture than yours? You know, listening to music that you didn't understand, dressing in ways that were different that you would, living in a community of which you know so very little about? Would you be afraid of me if you saw me on the streets or at the mall? Would you assume that if I was arrested for a crime that it was probably justified, that I was actually guilty? Am I "thug" to you if my hair is in cornrows or maybe even dreads, if I respond differently to life circumstances because I have been treated differently all of my life?
As a follower of Jesus, I could easily quote some Scripture about loving your neighbor and hope that it would stick to all of humanity, but sadly it does not. Do we have a sin problem? You bet we do. Yet to sermonize all of the unrest in our country and our world does very little for the vast majority who do not hold the same worldview as I do. If someone is racist, then there is a different king sitting on his or her throne.
Will I pray for hearts to be changed? I will, starting with my own. But I also have to realize that, from where I stand, I am responsible for so much of what needs to happen to enact change in this world. I cannot point the finger at others and announce that they alone are the problem. It begins with me.
I can remember times where I have stood up for my black brothers and sisters in their presence, decrying the wrong that was being perpetrated against them. If you do not believe that racism against African Americans is a real thing, then I guess you can probably stop reading at this point. But I can also recall times when I was around only those of my color and I chose to do or say nothing when the racist fireballs were being thrown. For that, I am ashamed and I am sorry.
As I see what is going on in our country, I have so many questions and I, too, am angry. Watching cities burn on the news does not bring me peace, even though I understand the anger behind it all. I have sought counsel from friends of color and listened to what they had to say, praying that I could understand how I can be a part of the solution. Over and over again I have heard that I, as a white man, cannot remain silent, yet I have also been urged to take this to mean more than just a social media post or attendance at a rally.
An event or a protest, while on the right track, is not going to ultimately change this country. No, this country will not change until those who CAN stand WILL stand for those who cannot. In the work place, the market, in schools, in the community – when someone of privilege sees injustice against another man or woman who does not share that same privilege, then their voice must be heard and action must be taken. The African American community should not be the first group of people in America to be up in arms when injustices come their way.
It begins with me.
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