Hi, my name is siren. I'm a Christian and I'm an activist.Whew! That was literally hard to write. Here's why: Modern society has made activism and the Christian religion distant from each other. We believers have seemingly become to pious to see the importance of our presence in the fight for social justice. We are so focused on our interests that we get blinded from the big picture; from what I believe are truly God's interests. If you aren't fighting for "Christian" values (i.e. Pro-life, pro-privatization of schools, pro-unity of church and state) then you posting about the disparities of the African American community in America makes you seem more like a secular radical than a believer. So, in the years since true salvation, I have kept quiet in moments of sheer disgust (like the last two weeks). I have treated my Sociology minor as some after fact. I have highlighted my Christian efforts and moonlighted the work I do that I believe breaks social boundaries (sci-fi writing, essay writing, internet chagrinning at racial evil.) For years, I have struggled with the balance between being an uplifter and being an access point to truth. Howard University taught me to recognize truth; social, economic, and political truth. My faith teaches me that the Word is truth. The day to day marrying of those two perspectives is ever present in the way I deal with what is happening in the world around me. There's this tight rope of blackness that I walk, over a valley of Christian shame. I can't point to one person or one group that makes me feel this way. It it is real. It made me uncomfortable in college when the preacher at Chapel talked about politics too much. It makes me avoid conversations about politics with elders in my spiritual community, scared they may denounce Obama for something like not supporting Israel. This grapple has caused me to get off of social media for days at a time to prevent me from constantly writing posts that reflect my political and social opinions. For example, I literally got off of social media for a month after the Zimmerman trial. Even right now, I dread my timeline because of President Donald Trump. But then, something happen. On the same day that Trump issued the Muslim ban, I found out that Flint Michigan still doesn't have proper water. That moment, incited a rant and a lot of prayer. God didn't put me here to tiptoe issues that matter to me. We cringe when our Savior is equated to a revolutionary; forgetting that he literally dismantled a government system that used religion to oppose its people. He was killed for it. That narrative is the backstory of Jesus dying for my sin. THAT MIRACLE. I'm presently working on finding the grace to express the innate frustrations I feel as a black woman in America without shutting down on social media, and without feeling that I am failing as a Christian. Social media is a platform. It is my platform. I'm realizing that, FOR ME, the importance to open the eyes and ears of my peers to social, economic and political truth is just as important as it is to me to share the Word. I can't sit around privately signing petitions, sharing posts that I think are irrefutable, and hesitating to share facts about what is happening in my community. I've dipped and dabbled in all types of things. Since closing ATS, I've been throwing tomatoes at the wall to see which will stick. "Maybe a Christian platform, maybe a mom blog, maybe YouTube." Nothing has sufficed the hunger in my souls to address my people's issues. I'm not an activist quite yet. But I am ready to rise to the call of the high mark on my life. I have no ministry without social justice. I have no social justice without ministry. Pray for me to be strong. Pray for me to be obedient. But, most of all pray for me to be courageous. Check out the sneak peek below of the last email sent from my TinyLetter! Feel free to subscribe! I don't know if it is the fact there is an orange man in the White House. I don't know if it is the fact that I am carrying a young Black mind inside me. I don't know if it is because I sat in on an interview with Micheal Eric Dyson and my husband is reading Why We Can't Wait by MLK. But, I'm finally mad. I'm actually upset beyond reproach. That anger is not removable. It can't be bothered by the stories of Black women doing magical things like past spouts. It cannot be scathed by my understanding that God is sovereign. In fact, my anger, this righteous bubble boiling up to my throat, is championed by my faith.
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