Anti-Oppression Work in Ministry
(originally written 2005, periodically updated)
INTRODUCTION: As an individual, and particularly as a minister, I long ago claimed my approach to humanity as a “pastoral” one. For me this involved a recognition that individual human experience is unique – and that no one should presume to know or judge what constitutes the experience of another. This approach was heavily influenced by my family background, which included parents who were raised, as children, on Nazi propaganda in WWII Germany. Both dedicated their lives to coming to terms with that history and, somehow, making amends for it.
In response, I came to place my focus on the widest unifying category I could, determined to greet all people first and foremost as human beings, without regard to classifications such as race, class, gender, sexual orientation, etc. Ideally, I would make no assumptions and would allow relationships to evolve naturally and mutually, rather than as a way to ease personal guilt or shame.
While I recognize the history and value of this approach to my own development and ability to serve well in a structured pastoral capacity, such as hospital chaplaincy, my recent focused engagement with the issue of cultural diversity and anti-oppression[1] work has widened my understanding of where the benefits of that approach abruptly end. I have come to recognize that any approach to humanity, pastoral or otherwise, must take into consideration the relationship between power and identity: specifically, how power dynamics have become institutionalized, how they affect individuals and society, and what responsibility individuals bear in changing this dynamic so that it becomes equitable, without being patronizing.
More significantly, I have come to recognize that it’s not enough to be “pastoral.” It is clear that various elements of my own identity give me authority and power[2] that I have a responsibility to use consciously and carefully to end oppression in all forms. As I have learned, the commitment to doing so cannot be sourced in guilt or shame, as it did for my parents. It must come from a sense of empowered hope and faith. The model I have found for this is that of an ally.
Following are some reflections on what I have learned regarding the relationship between identity and power, particularly as it relates to being an ally, and being a religious leader.
IDENTITY & POWER: When asked by a course assignment on ‘culture and values’ to list the various elements of my identity in order of significance, “white” was fourth on the list. Preceding that: female, German-American, and student. While compiling my extensive list I noticed the feelings that came up around each designation. While many designations could be both subordinate and dominant, there were those that were clearly more one than another. Subordinate identities, such as female (and German-American), made me feel vulnerable and defensive – and these had been placed at the top of the list as defining identities.
Dominant identities were either pride-inducing because they involved some perceived level of my own accomplishment (such as educated), or prompted mixed feelings/extreme discomfort (such as white and upper-middle class). In fact, dominant identities tended to be further down on my list.
Upon further reflection, I realized that I had demonstrated something of what Beverly Daniel Tatum described in her article, The Complexity of Identity.[3] In that article Ms. Tatum described the tendency to minimize those identities “where a person is a member of the dominant or advantaged social group” because those identities and their benefits can be taken for granted. Course discussions on white identity and the unjust[4] benefits that come with it were disturbing to me in large part because of the pervasiveness of institutionalized oppression and unearned privilege, but also because they did not seem to address my perennial concern regarding how privileged people can respond with integrity to this injustice when they carry resultant shame and guilt (that question having been a driving factor in my own embrace of pastoral presence).
One article allowing the greatest initial shift in perspective for me was found in Intersection of Cultures: Multicultural Education in the United States and the Global Economy, by Joel Spring.[5] It explained race and racism as “socially constructed and ambiguous” concepts that can often “make whites feel guilty, and this guilt can quickly turn into hostility and resentment.” (This was certainly something I had noticed.) To counter that response it must first be acknowledged as one in a series of many leading toward the identity of anti-racist activist. [6] Along the way, white role models should be sought to “provide non-oppressive ways of being white.”[7]
Another helpful article affirmed not only the “psychological prison system…of the heart and intelligence” through white naivite, guilt and shame, but offered practical suggestions for how to “use power to share power and use unearned privilege to weaken systems of unearned privilege.” [8]
Of all the readings, I found two documents by Robert Chene, entitled Qualities of an Ally and Some Indispensable Hints for Effective Cross-Cultural Relationships[9] the most helpful in terms of realizing what crucial elements had been missing from my prior ‘pastoral’ approach: 1. the knowledge that those in dominant roles must initiate change, which requires, in part, 2. the ability to not get stuck in self-blame.
The first element was one I had previously made use of only very cautiously because of what I had perceived as inappropriate guilt-driven over-compensation by my parents and others. Determined to be guided instead by an ideal of universal acceptance, and to not make assumptions about what others might need, I had opted to put my focus on creating a space in which anyone might feel safe and welcome to reveal their needs (if they so chose). This space underestimated my own responsibility to increase my understanding of the structures of oppression that create need, and to be proactive in proclaiming the injustice and serving the need.
As I see it now, my prior inability to apply the second element belied my own professed faith in human nature. While I was generally quick to acknowledge and forgive human fallibility, it was difficult for me to move past my own guilt at being part of an oppressive system, and my fear of offending. It was difficult to see what productive measures I could take to change that system, and to have faith that it could, in fact, be changed.
APPLICATION TO MINISTRY: Engagement with a UCLA course on Cultural Diversity, as well as with First Unitarian Church of Los Angeles (FUCLA) in the capacity of regular guest preacher in 2004-2005, has provided me with empowering perspectives on anti-oppression work in general and in ministry. While FUCLA has a diverse membership,[10] I am acutely aware that most Unitarian Universalist churches tend to be white, well-educated, and middle-to-upper middle class (as am I). This belies our commitment to diversity, making it too easy to limit our vision to who has already walked through the door, as opposed to considering those we’d like to have walk through the door and stay, feeling well-served (everyone).
Following are some general reflections on what I recognize as the “learning environment” of the Unitarian Universalist church, followed by specific elements I commit to integrating into my own ministry.
The ‘learning environment’ of the Unitarian Universalist church can be divided into several areas: the worship experience (which includes the use of music, readings, sermons, and physical environment), the classes/workshops (which can be topic-focused, activity-focused, or relationship-focused), the social experience (with each individual drawing upon their own commitment to right relationship in creating fellowship within and outside of the church), as well as the inner environment of each individual engaging within this congregation, this denomination, this community, this world (and within their own relationship to higher power).
As I see it, a critical function of the Unitarian Universalist minister is to help remind individuals of their inter-being/inter-dependence with all of life, while affirming, supporting, celebrating their unique experience. For Unitarian Universalists this is expressed in part through our public affirmation and promotion of seven principles, but primarily through our active engagement with lifelong learning about how to apply those principles responsibly. The minister is called to model these principles in all aspects of church life, and to support a total environment that will be welcoming, affirming, inspiring, and strengthening to all who “may enter.”
This requires a commitment to constant awareness of “those who have not yet entered”…meaning that we must live out a multi-cultural existence, even if the pews are largely filled by only one culture (as they still tend to be). This commitment to being actively welcoming to all, while firmly held in the hearts of most congregants, often challenges their own sense of comfort. This requires of ministers a sensitivity to the culture of the existing congregation, as well as to those not yet represented, with a focus on promoting the celebration of the gift of diversity in human experience and on ending oppression in all forms.
In applying the Cultural Diversity coursework readings to this particular teaching environment, I note that Unitarian Universalists are largely white, educated, middle-to–upper class ex-collectivists. The latter designation means that many experienced membership in other religious institutions as oppressive of their individual development. As such they may maintain a defensive stance on behalf of individualism and against authority figures (including the authority of the minister), even while joining together in a religious community. This dichotomy is one a minister must always be sensitive to and it is one that requires active reflection on the power dynamic in place between the minister (the institution of the church) and the people who may or may not affirm that authority. It also requires that the minister be humble enough to listen deeply to the experiences of those who are being marginalized, to educate themselves on the causes and effects, to keep central guiding religious values, and make productive their fear, grief or righteous rage.
Ultimately, every minister must be empowered to take responsibility for bettering their role as part of this interdependent world, and for understanding and affirming this work as necessary and courageous. That requires building and sustaining anti-oppression support systems.
* * *
[1] Through the UCLA Online Extension Course X325.02 (Prof. Sirota), Winter 2005, as well as through relationship with First Unitarian Church of Los Angeles, an urban congregation whose culture is significantly influenced by Central- and South-American membership.
[2] I am white, educated, upper-middle class, and I am taking on the role of religious leadership
[3] The Complexity of Identity: “Who Am I”, by Beverley Daniel Tatum, from Readings for Diversity and Social Justice (Perseus Books, 1997)
[4] “unjust” because those benefits are the result of a system of exclusion
[5] McGraw-Hill, 2000
[6] according to the author’s discussion on Educator and African American activist Beverly Tatum, there are six stages: contact, disintegration, reintegration, independence, immersion/emersion, autonomy
[7] Unitarian Universalism certainly provides ample role models
[8] White Privilege, Color, and Crime: A Personal Account, by Peggy McIntosh, from Images of Color, Images of Crime, eds. Coramae Richey mann and Marjorie S. Zatz, Roxbury Publishing Company, Los Angeles, CA 1998.
[9] Prepared by Robert Chene for Southwest Institute for Cross-Cultural Relationships, Albuquerque, NM. (See attached summary)
[10] …which challenged me to apply these new perspectives!
INTRODUCTION: As an individual, and particularly as a minister, I long ago claimed my approach to humanity as a “pastoral” one. For me this involved a recognition that individual human experience is unique – and that no one should presume to know or judge what constitutes the experience of another. This approach was heavily influenced by my family background, which included parents who were raised, as children, on Nazi propaganda in WWII Germany. Both dedicated their lives to coming to terms with that history and, somehow, making amends for it.
In response, I came to place my focus on the widest unifying category I could, determined to greet all people first and foremost as human beings, without regard to classifications such as race, class, gender, sexual orientation, etc. Ideally, I would make no assumptions and would allow relationships to evolve naturally and mutually, rather than as a way to ease personal guilt or shame.
While I recognize the history and value of this approach to my own development and ability to serve well in a structured pastoral capacity, such as hospital chaplaincy, my recent focused engagement with the issue of cultural diversity and anti-oppression[1] work has widened my understanding of where the benefits of that approach abruptly end. I have come to recognize that any approach to humanity, pastoral or otherwise, must take into consideration the relationship between power and identity: specifically, how power dynamics have become institutionalized, how they affect individuals and society, and what responsibility individuals bear in changing this dynamic so that it becomes equitable, without being patronizing.
More significantly, I have come to recognize that it’s not enough to be “pastoral.” It is clear that various elements of my own identity give me authority and power[2] that I have a responsibility to use consciously and carefully to end oppression in all forms. As I have learned, the commitment to doing so cannot be sourced in guilt or shame, as it did for my parents. It must come from a sense of empowered hope and faith. The model I have found for this is that of an ally.
Following are some reflections on what I have learned regarding the relationship between identity and power, particularly as it relates to being an ally, and being a religious leader.
IDENTITY & POWER: When asked by a course assignment on ‘culture and values’ to list the various elements of my identity in order of significance, “white” was fourth on the list. Preceding that: female, German-American, and student. While compiling my extensive list I noticed the feelings that came up around each designation. While many designations could be both subordinate and dominant, there were those that were clearly more one than another. Subordinate identities, such as female (and German-American), made me feel vulnerable and defensive – and these had been placed at the top of the list as defining identities.
Dominant identities were either pride-inducing because they involved some perceived level of my own accomplishment (such as educated), or prompted mixed feelings/extreme discomfort (such as white and upper-middle class). In fact, dominant identities tended to be further down on my list.
Upon further reflection, I realized that I had demonstrated something of what Beverly Daniel Tatum described in her article, The Complexity of Identity.[3] In that article Ms. Tatum described the tendency to minimize those identities “where a person is a member of the dominant or advantaged social group” because those identities and their benefits can be taken for granted. Course discussions on white identity and the unjust[4] benefits that come with it were disturbing to me in large part because of the pervasiveness of institutionalized oppression and unearned privilege, but also because they did not seem to address my perennial concern regarding how privileged people can respond with integrity to this injustice when they carry resultant shame and guilt (that question having been a driving factor in my own embrace of pastoral presence).
One article allowing the greatest initial shift in perspective for me was found in Intersection of Cultures: Multicultural Education in the United States and the Global Economy, by Joel Spring.[5] It explained race and racism as “socially constructed and ambiguous” concepts that can often “make whites feel guilty, and this guilt can quickly turn into hostility and resentment.” (This was certainly something I had noticed.) To counter that response it must first be acknowledged as one in a series of many leading toward the identity of anti-racist activist. [6] Along the way, white role models should be sought to “provide non-oppressive ways of being white.”[7]
Another helpful article affirmed not only the “psychological prison system…of the heart and intelligence” through white naivite, guilt and shame, but offered practical suggestions for how to “use power to share power and use unearned privilege to weaken systems of unearned privilege.” [8]
Of all the readings, I found two documents by Robert Chene, entitled Qualities of an Ally and Some Indispensable Hints for Effective Cross-Cultural Relationships[9] the most helpful in terms of realizing what crucial elements had been missing from my prior ‘pastoral’ approach: 1. the knowledge that those in dominant roles must initiate change, which requires, in part, 2. the ability to not get stuck in self-blame.
The first element was one I had previously made use of only very cautiously because of what I had perceived as inappropriate guilt-driven over-compensation by my parents and others. Determined to be guided instead by an ideal of universal acceptance, and to not make assumptions about what others might need, I had opted to put my focus on creating a space in which anyone might feel safe and welcome to reveal their needs (if they so chose). This space underestimated my own responsibility to increase my understanding of the structures of oppression that create need, and to be proactive in proclaiming the injustice and serving the need.
As I see it now, my prior inability to apply the second element belied my own professed faith in human nature. While I was generally quick to acknowledge and forgive human fallibility, it was difficult for me to move past my own guilt at being part of an oppressive system, and my fear of offending. It was difficult to see what productive measures I could take to change that system, and to have faith that it could, in fact, be changed.
APPLICATION TO MINISTRY: Engagement with a UCLA course on Cultural Diversity, as well as with First Unitarian Church of Los Angeles (FUCLA) in the capacity of regular guest preacher in 2004-2005, has provided me with empowering perspectives on anti-oppression work in general and in ministry. While FUCLA has a diverse membership,[10] I am acutely aware that most Unitarian Universalist churches tend to be white, well-educated, and middle-to-upper middle class (as am I). This belies our commitment to diversity, making it too easy to limit our vision to who has already walked through the door, as opposed to considering those we’d like to have walk through the door and stay, feeling well-served (everyone).
Following are some general reflections on what I recognize as the “learning environment” of the Unitarian Universalist church, followed by specific elements I commit to integrating into my own ministry.
The ‘learning environment’ of the Unitarian Universalist church can be divided into several areas: the worship experience (which includes the use of music, readings, sermons, and physical environment), the classes/workshops (which can be topic-focused, activity-focused, or relationship-focused), the social experience (with each individual drawing upon their own commitment to right relationship in creating fellowship within and outside of the church), as well as the inner environment of each individual engaging within this congregation, this denomination, this community, this world (and within their own relationship to higher power).
As I see it, a critical function of the Unitarian Universalist minister is to help remind individuals of their inter-being/inter-dependence with all of life, while affirming, supporting, celebrating their unique experience. For Unitarian Universalists this is expressed in part through our public affirmation and promotion of seven principles, but primarily through our active engagement with lifelong learning about how to apply those principles responsibly. The minister is called to model these principles in all aspects of church life, and to support a total environment that will be welcoming, affirming, inspiring, and strengthening to all who “may enter.”
This requires a commitment to constant awareness of “those who have not yet entered”…meaning that we must live out a multi-cultural existence, even if the pews are largely filled by only one culture (as they still tend to be). This commitment to being actively welcoming to all, while firmly held in the hearts of most congregants, often challenges their own sense of comfort. This requires of ministers a sensitivity to the culture of the existing congregation, as well as to those not yet represented, with a focus on promoting the celebration of the gift of diversity in human experience and on ending oppression in all forms.
In applying the Cultural Diversity coursework readings to this particular teaching environment, I note that Unitarian Universalists are largely white, educated, middle-to–upper class ex-collectivists. The latter designation means that many experienced membership in other religious institutions as oppressive of their individual development. As such they may maintain a defensive stance on behalf of individualism and against authority figures (including the authority of the minister), even while joining together in a religious community. This dichotomy is one a minister must always be sensitive to and it is one that requires active reflection on the power dynamic in place between the minister (the institution of the church) and the people who may or may not affirm that authority. It also requires that the minister be humble enough to listen deeply to the experiences of those who are being marginalized, to educate themselves on the causes and effects, to keep central guiding religious values, and make productive their fear, grief or righteous rage.
Ultimately, every minister must be empowered to take responsibility for bettering their role as part of this interdependent world, and for understanding and affirming this work as necessary and courageous. That requires building and sustaining anti-oppression support systems.
* * *
[1] Through the UCLA Online Extension Course X325.02 (Prof. Sirota), Winter 2005, as well as through relationship with First Unitarian Church of Los Angeles, an urban congregation whose culture is significantly influenced by Central- and South-American membership.
[2] I am white, educated, upper-middle class, and I am taking on the role of religious leadership
[3] The Complexity of Identity: “Who Am I”, by Beverley Daniel Tatum, from Readings for Diversity and Social Justice (Perseus Books, 1997)
[4] “unjust” because those benefits are the result of a system of exclusion
[5] McGraw-Hill, 2000
[6] according to the author’s discussion on Educator and African American activist Beverly Tatum, there are six stages: contact, disintegration, reintegration, independence, immersion/emersion, autonomy
[7] Unitarian Universalism certainly provides ample role models
[8] White Privilege, Color, and Crime: A Personal Account, by Peggy McIntosh, from Images of Color, Images of Crime, eds. Coramae Richey mann and Marjorie S. Zatz, Roxbury Publishing Company, Los Angeles, CA 1998.
[9] Prepared by Robert Chene for Southwest Institute for Cross-Cultural Relationships, Albuquerque, NM. (See attached summary)
[10] …which challenged me to apply these new perspectives!