Okay, friends, it’s time for a controversial blog post. Let’s talk about white privilege…
In efforts to not create a WW3 in the comments section let me just say this: I’m not talking about race in America. I’m not talking about the current political tension in our country. I don’t want to offend anyone nor do I care to stir the pot. But I am going to talk about my experience as a white woman in Ethiopia thus far.
This month my team and I are participating in what the World Race calls “Unsung Heroes.” Meaning we have opportunity to follow the Holy Spirit and see where He leads us with the ultimate goal of creating contacts and hosts for future Racers. We had no set plans or place to stay upon entering the country (or for any of our time here). We didn’t know where our food and water would come from. Essentially, it is every mother’s worst nightmare.
Fear not! Our team leader, Jack, told us a few hours before our flight to Addis Ababa that he booked us a hostel to stay at for a couple nights- “set your expectations as low as possible,” he said. If you know Jack then you know if he says a place looks bad, it’s probably a hub of disgustingness and big bugs.
To Team Shema’s delight, we found ourselves in 3 separate rooms with tempuredic mattresses, hot water, and perhaps the most surprising, no mold. Isn’t God the greatest?!
We decided to stay a couple nights at such an Oasis to figure out where God wanted us this month. Additionally, we wanted to try and receive some emails from NGOs or ministries in Ethiopia that we had reached out to while still in ‘Nam (side note: if you have any contacts, hit me up). This said, we decided to dedicate our first full day in Ethiopia to fasting.
Now, I could write about all the awesome things that happened during that fast, but I want to talk about one realization in particular. You guessed it, white privilege.
Our team was fasting and reading our Bibles in silence when all of the sudden we heard screaming. Loud screaming. From a woman. Then the yelling started. From a man. All the shouts in Amharic, we couldn’t make out anything being said. Looking up at each other confused and maybe a little scared, Kam said “it sounds like a domestic dispute.”
Immediately all 3 boys on our team rose and walked out of the room into the hallway to see what was going on. The four girls decided to follow. We heard Jack ask one of the hostel workers if everything was okay. She responded, “yes, everything’s fine. Don’t worry.” Her words aside, we knew that wasn’t the case by looking into her eyes.
I looked at my team and said, “I feel like I need to go down there.” My team, trusting that I was being led by His spirit, gave me a nod of approval. Daniel, and his protective self, said “I’m going with you.” It wasn’t a question. (Don’t worry Jmoney and Steveo, this team is taking good care of me).
We walked down the stairs and I turned the corner. Here I found a Muslim woman standing and crying. Her shoulders were shaking heavily beneath her bright blue hijab, her tearful eyes barely visible.
I looked at the receptionist and asked what had happened. Between her shaky words and tearful accent, I was able to somewhat make out a story. Essentially, a man had punched the Muslim woman in the head, the hostel cleaner, while she was attending to his room. I don’t know why, only that he wanted her out of the room. The man was no where to be seen, just the receptionist and cleaner.
I held the crying woman in my arms as her tears dropped on to her hijab. I prayed for her and she seemed to calm down.
That’s when an Ethiopian man came down the stairs- probably at least 6 foot and 220 pounds. A pretty large dude (at least compared to me and the Muslim woman who only stood at 5 feet). The yelling started again while Daniel and I just stood there trying to survey the situation. Apparently this was the man that hit her. I continued to embrace the woman and Daniel rolled up his sleeves (told ya I was safe, mama). I could feel her blood pressure rising as they yelled at each other.
That’s when things escalated (again). The woman broke through my hug, grabbed the broom next to her, and swung that thing pole-side up at the man’s back. Hard. She has guts, I’ll give her that.
The man turned and I did the only logical (Holy Spirit?) thing I could. I stepped in between the two and the man ran into me just as I put my hands in front of me. As soon as his chest touched my hands, he retreated. Immediately.
And that’s why this blog is about white privilege. I knew this man wouldn’t touch me. I was clearly a white-American woman and if he touched me, he knew there would be consequences. Certainly from Daniel (and Andy and Jack, they were just up the stairs watching), but also probably his government and mine. For the first time in my life, I fully understood what white privilege is. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve spent countless hours studying it in college, reading news articles, and having discussions with “minority” friends. But something changed when I actually experienced it first hand. I wasn’t just reading about a girl in the newspaper- I was her. And while I hate that race still plays such a role in modern day society, I will say that that day I was thankful for it. My skin was one of the factors able to mediate and resolve a situation. I had never in my life experienced this before.
Please hear me when I say that I would never take credit for diffusing this situation entirely. I was merely a factor, as was Daniel, the receptionist, and most importantly, God. Had I been thinking only with my brain, I would never have stepped in between the two. The only reason I can think of this illogical response is the Holy Spirit. Then again, perhaps it is logical.
“Now we have received, not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, so that we may know the things freely given to us by God, which things we also speak, not in words taught by human wisdom, but in those taught by the Spirit, combining spiritual thoughts with spiritual words. But a natural man does not accept the things of the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness to him; and he cannot understand them, because they are spiritually appraised.”
~1 Corinthians 2:12-14
Mom and Dad (and any other motherly/fatherly figure in my life), I promise I’m SAFE and having a blast. I love you guys and miss you so much!
