Sister Chioma Ahanihu shares how the Black Lives Matter movement after George Floyd’s death helped her find her voice in the midst of the mess, when she was part of a protest for the first time.
“If we’re really doing the Gospel work, our work is not to be loved by everyone. If we’re really challenging the status quo in the way that Jesus did we’re not going to make everyone happy. It is uncomfortable. It also means taking risks, it also means putting your body on the line.” -Sister Alison McCrary SFCC
“Say her name!” I yelled, and the crowds roared back: “Breonna Taylor!” After days of protests of the death of George Floyd around the country, I had a gnawing feeling inside that yet again, a Black woman had been relegated to the bottom of the pile in the fight for social justice. So I was excitedContinue reading “Lament and hope go hand in hand”
In the June burst of green and sunshine, I am taking a bike ride through the historically black neighborhood where I live in Chicago. Along the way, I encounter a heron and a flock of geese; I see wrappers and plastic bags littering the sidewalks, discarded in the gutters. I smell freshly-cut grass and waveContinue reading “Sorrow and Joy during the Black Lives Matter movement”
I had a knot in my stomach all day. I couldn’t focus at work. I lost my appetite. I felt exhausted as soon as I woke up. My mind was running with a thousand scenarios of things going wrong. I became keenly aware of that familiar feeling: a low-grade but persistent anxiousness; a lump thatContinue reading “Anxious resistance”
Leading up to the Women’s March on Washington last week, I noticed a lot of #WhyIMarch and also #WhyImNotMarching social media posts. Because the spirit, style and mission of the event—seemingly driven by language of “reproductive rights” (a new expression I’ve not yet come to terms with)—didn’t resonate with me, I found my own feelingsContinue reading “We walk together: reflections of the Women’s March”
I love Christmas. The rhythm of Advent, the hopeful anticipation, the clarifying cold, the scent of evergreen, the congealed wax at the base of the Advent wreath: these memories and images are so deeply ingrained in my soul and psyche that this time of year, more than any other, embodies a powerful —even sacramental —sentimentality. The nostalgiaContinue reading “A sacred reminder”
I am afraid this blog post is going to be a terrible, tangled mess: sorry about that. But considering the mess this is all about, a jumble might be the best I can give. My thoughts are tangled because so much has been stirring within me since last week when I learned about the killingsContinue reading “The skin I didn’t ask for: Bemoaning my white privilege and the evil of racial violence”