Pass the Peace
My heart was broken today at church. I write this post with a heavy heart because I saw someone treat the man I love as a father, like shit inside a place of worship.
Let me preface this by acknowledging that I hardly go to church because I am not religious. I do, however, go on occasion when my family asks me to join them.
The man that I love as a father is a Harvard University graduate where he earned a doctorate degree. He has worked under two Presidential administrations for the United States of America. He has been a consultant to most of the Fortune 500 companies. He was an advisor to and worked for the late Chicago Mayor Daley, Sr. He is a Professor Emeritus at the university in which he taught in for 25 years. He has trained top ranks of every branch of the United States military. Oh, and I forgot the most important description, he is dark-skinned.
Although he is an American, the man I love as a father is of Hispanic/Latino heritage. He was born in New York, the son of Puerto Rican parents, which is irrelevant due to the fact that people born in Puerto Rico are United States citizens as a result of the Jones Act passed in 1917 (more on this later).
The reason why his skin color is important is because it trumps every accomplishment he has ever made, every contribution he has ever made and every sacrifice.
The Catholic Church has a tradition of "passing the peace." This ritual is to strengthen community. The congregation simply stands, if they are able to, and greets each other by handshake, kiss and/or hug. Families usually start with each other first, then move on to friends and finally to the rest of the church community which oftentimes means greeting strangers.
We happened to be in a section that was mainly Caucasian. When it came to "pass the peace," we did as is custom. Our family greeted each other first, then we began to greet others who we do not know. That's when I witnessed a White lady refuse to shake the hand of the man I love as a father. It broke my heart to see his hand extended for what seemed an eternity as he said, "Peace be with you." The lady looked him in the eye and said, "I don't shake hands." So when he responded, "I just saw you shaking that gentleman's hand," referring to the White man sitting in front of her. She replied, "I'm not shaking your hand." I could feel him crumble. My heart broken.
Why? I know people are tired of the topic of race. Especially after the Trayvon Martin/George Zimmerman media circus. But I am still left shattered.
Why be treated as less than human, even in the place of worship? Why must a 73-year-old man who has accomplished so much and contributed so much to this great country in which he was born in, be humiliated like that?
Why did this lady hurt the man I love as a father, which in turn hurts me?
The experience consumed our drive home and our breakfast. His fields are Education, Sociology and Diversity. I love are conversations because they remind me of when we first met over 20 years ago. I still feel at times that I am still enrolled at a university. It was during our conversation at breakfast that I learned a new term. Micro inequalities. It basically means that the majority/dominant society will view an individual who they perceive not to belong to said group, as someone less than, and therefore, choose to be indifferent in small ways. For example: not shaking one's hand when a ritual requires one to do so; asking for identification at a store when paying with a credit card but not asking the customer beforehand; or being "randomly" selected to be searched every time one flies.
His breakdown of the situation makes sense, so why am I still hurt?
I guess during a week when Marc Anthony, an American born in New York of Hispanic/Latino heritage, yet still an American nonetheless, even if his parents were born in Puerto Rico, which still means they are American citizens because of the Jones Act of 1917, angered many Caucasian United States citizens because, "how dare a Hispanic/Latino sing America the Beautiful at the Major League Baseball All-Star Game."
All of this happening while I make a trip to Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri, to see my niece (a young woman only 20 years old, an American born in Chicago, Illinois of Hispanic/Latino heritage but still American. Whose parents were also born in Chicago. Whose grandparents were born in Puerto Rico, but are still considered American citizens due to the Jones Act of 1917) graduate from Basic Training in the United States Army.
It is important to note the Jones Act because of its purpose. Puerto Rico was a colony of Spain. In 1898, the United States of America invaded Puerto Rico and consequently, was granted the right to colonize Puerto Rico among other Spanish-controlled lands.
By 1917, the United States of America found itself participating in World War I. It needed soldiers. The reason the Jones Act was created and passed was because the United States saw the opportunity to increase its military prowess by tapping into the island populace. Puerto Ricans were and continue to be human capital. Puerto Ricans have fought in every major war of the United States of America.
And so here I sit in Baker Theater in Fort Leonard Wood's Army Training graduation watching with pride as my soldier says on stage, "Amanda DeJesus, Puerto Rico." And my eyes tear up because my little girl is going to fight for our country, defend it from those who want to take away our freedoms, protect the borders of the United States of America, sacrifice her life for our flag, and I wonder...how many micro inequalities will my baby, my soldier, our soldier, endure.
