Dear Westwood Family,
I’m writing this message while waiting between flights in Newark, New Jersey. By the time I return home on Tuesday, July 8th, I will have traveled for 28 hours since arriving at Cape Town Airport and landing at LAX. It’s been a long journey, but I am returning to America a changed man. For those who didn’t know, I led a cross-cultural immersion course with students from the Methodist Theological School in Ohio. We spent one week in Johannesburg and Cape Town, respectively, and I believe we have all been changed by the experience.
The atrocity of Apartheid officially ended in 1994, but the country still navigates through the fog it left behind. Although there are moments of clarity—a break in the clouds, rainbows, days when the sky is almost visible—they are still recovering from the social impact of 46 years of legal and theologically justified social and economic empowerment for poor and middle-class White people at the expense of the “non-whites” in South Africa. Apartheid, just like its Jim Crow counterpart in America, focused their attention on other oppressed groups and ignored the selfish billionaire capitalists who benefited the most. While I will eventually discuss the suffering I witnessed and experienced, I want this note to focus on the joy my students and I experienced on this trip.
Ken, a Black disabled veteran, is scheduled for hip replacement surgery in December. Despite his mobility challenges, he purchased a motorized scooter just to attend this trip and complete, in his words, an assignment that God called him to. His prayer during our closing ritual invited us to explore the depths of our souls as we reflected on our shared experiences. Gina, a Black clergyperson who specializes in therapy, helped us find joy amid trauma during this trip. Ultimately, we all benefited from her wisdom and counsel. Whitney, a white local pastor serving churches in rural Nebraska and Kansas, helped us understand and wrestle with how difficult yet necessary it is for her to translate her learning to the communities she serves. Kristen, a white eco-theologian, kept us mindful of the environmental impact of racism and poverty, emphasizing that resolving land access and ownership is a crucial solution for oppressed people worldwide. Beth, a white clergyperson, said her trip’s purpose was to experience “Sawubona,” a Zulu word meaning “I see you.” She reminded all Black travelers that we deserve to be seen in our authentic selves. Deontez, a Black clergyperson and self-proclaimed “nerdy church boy,” made sure we understood the history and gravity of what we were witnessing. His questions to our guest speakers were piercing and deepened our understanding. Jackie, a Black wellness coach who combines Christian spirituality and counseling, shared that her meditation during the trip brought her to tears because she realized she was both away from and deeply at home.
Paisha is an artist and aspiring PhD candidate, working on an inspiring project where she combines the red clay from the plantation where her ancestors were enslaved with clay from South Africa and other African diasporic communities, symbolizing the reconnecting of what was once divided. During our closing remarks, she noted that all of our white participants did an outstanding job centering the experiences of the Black people on the trip. They didn’t make the journey about alleviating their guilt or fulfilling a white savior complex; instead, they listened, engaged, and learned from all of us. This exemplifies how white solidarity with BIPOC folx can look. Lastly, Pete is a Dean at Ohio University and is completing his ordination as a Unitarian Universalist pastor. During our closing debrief, he stated that what we are all taking away from this trip is the need to integrate the head, the heart, and the stomach in our application of what we have learned from this experience.
Our minds have absorbed more than we could process in the two weeks we spent together meeting locals, reading essays, engaging with activists, and visiting everything from museums to townships. Our hearts are filled with the love we experienced from the local South Africans and Namibians we met, especially our guides and teachers, Molefi and Pinias. But understanding and feeling are not enough; we need the courage to do the work of justice, compassion, and repair that we are all inspired to accomplish. One challenge that has arisen since the end of Apartheid is the lack of accountability among White South Africans for their actions toward the indigenous population. While the Truth and Reconciliation Commission made significant progress in addressing emotional and moral issues, they have yet to summon the courage to do what is right and provide the necessary reparations for their victims.
We find ourselves in a similar situation here in America, where those in power and privilege can speak in ways that show intellectual understanding and even act in ways that seem to reflect a transformed heart. But do they, do we, have the courage to do the hard work needed to repair the marginalized and oppressed communities we have harmed? My hope is that we at Westwood UMC can develop such courage.
In Love and Solidarity,
Rev. Dr. Christopher Carter
