I’ve actually had time to think about race and the Episcopal church. But I’m having problems putting down the words because I’m mestiza, I’ve always been mixed. I didn’t realise until I started to leave the insularity of my family home, where my family has lived for over 100 years, where I was related to half of the city, where my father lives next door to the house his grandfather built. Back home, who I am is more important than what I am.
And because I grew up with that, I have a different vocabulary than most people who talk about racism in America. The first time someone called me a ‘wetback’, I was thirteen and didn’t know what it meant, even though I lived in California, even though I lived next to a vineyard and knew the workers who came through every fall. But at seven, I’d tackled and rubbed dirt in my cousin’s face for saying I was ‘dishonest and disloyal to family’ (I hadn’t brought him a coke when I had said I would).
I’ve got a Master’s Degree in Cross-Cultural Teaching, so I can spin the pretty words, but you all know how much I hate that. This goes way deeper, and I need to find words for things that were, until relatively recently, not part of my world.
So I’m still thinking. And while I think, I want y’all to run over to Radical Torah and read Rachel’s reimaging of the Ten Commandments.