The First Time & The Last Time...

Alright blogosphere, hold on to your aprons, this could get messy.

I'm going to talk about "race". Not the intellectualized, buttered up and broadcasted view of race, but race from my perspective and life experience.

Let me preface this by saying that this post was brought on by a wildly offensive text I received a couple of days ago questioning the reasoning behind my delving into my past on Ancestry.com. I have since forgiven this person but my patience has been reached and the damage has been done.

However, just to make sure we're getting everything, let's start at the beginning.

I am of mixed heritage. My father is African-American and my mother is Puerto Rican. I identify as a Puerto Rican man. Not black. I love my father and he loves me. He knows that I identify as Puerto Rican and is fine with it. In fact, he encourages it.

All my life I have dreaded the question, "So, what are you?" knowing that they were implying, "What race are you?"
All my life I have felt the overwhelming need to correct people when they call me "black" or the need to explain myself when I call myself Puerto Rican. Yes, when people ask what race I am, I tell them "Puerto Rican." I put it on every legal document. Job application. Even those dumb Facebook surveys.
I do this not because I'm denying a part of myself.
Not because I don't want to be black but because that's how I was raised. My parents collectively raised me to identify with the Latino heritage and I made the conscious choice to identify as Latino when I got older. Being Puerto Rican is all I know.

Ironically, the subject of my heritage has gotten worse as I've gotten older. Some people (yes, that's plural) have even had the nerve to correct me when I told them I was Puerto Rican.

What?!?

When did it become acceptable in American society to question someone when they tell another person their heritage? Let me be very clear, no one has the right to question my own heritage. The fact that someone would even try and correct me is asinine and illogical. Who gave anyone the right to plaster a label on me and file me with a select few people they know? I refuse to just take a number and join the rest of the people you've color categorized in your own mind.

My favourite is, "why do you dress so white?"

Oh that one just kills me for many reasons. One, you are implying that because my skin is darker that I should dress a specific way. Two, you are implying that I shouldn't be wearing the clothes I'm wearing. Three, you are have openly revealed that in your head, there are groups of people and these people wear certain things, say certain things and do certain things. Also, that because I do not fit your set notion of people, that I am wrong.

Isn't that grand? And people wonder why I don't like people...

Let's get one thing straight: the fact that I don't fit into someone's narrow, uncultured view of the world is thrilling. It means that I'm doing something right :)

Now let me clarify, I'm not writing this on my blog because I desire attention or to start something up. I am writing this as the first and the last. This is the first time I have openly addressed race (more specifically my heritage) and will be the last time.

I refuse to explain myself any longer and I refuse to answer the question, "so what are you?" because it is irrelevant.
Is knowing my heritage going to make you want to talk to me more/less?
Is knowing my heritage going to reveal a great mystery?
Is knowing my heritage going to make you want to get to know me more/less?
Is knowing my heritage going to make me more/less attractive?

If the answer is "no" to any of those questions then stop asking, "so what are you?" You might actually be on the road to being one of the few decent people in this country.
If your answer is "yes" to any of those questions then you really need to take a hard look at the way you view people.

As for me?

I am not a label.

Go color code someone else.

Till Next Time...

Heart of a Worshiper...

I have a question.

If the mission of the Church is to be "fishers of men"; to go out into the world and preach of Christ's love and you are not doing any of it, how can you call yourself a church?

It's a legitimate question and I think it's a question we all need to ask ourselves as a body.

I feel like I'm writing all of this in reverse. The question wasn't the beginning but a result of what I witness no more than an hour or so ago.

I was at a rather traditional church with my family and some friends from Journey because an artist had asked my dad and two other women (who happen to go to Journey) to sing back-up for him.

Awesome!

It was something that they had done before at a church downtown and it was phenomenal so naturally I wanted to hear it again and support my daddy and my friends. The service began and I will admit, I was a little put off. But it came time for everyone to take the stage and my dad and the two ladies are sitting next to me in the audience!

I come to find out that the 'church' said to my dad and the other Journey ladies (really they only spoke to the artist and he relayed the information) and told them that they "weren't presentable" because the ladies happened to be wearing pants.

WHAT. IS. THAT.

To say that is ridiculous is an grand understatement. That is blatant ignorance and refusal let go of archaic rules. I could go on and on about women's rights to wear whatever the heck they want but this is the church. We are held to a different standard. Where in the Bible, God's holy word, does it say that women are only allowed to wear skirts and pretty dresses? I will kindly answer that for you so you don't waste your time Googling and searching biblegateway.com: the answer is NOWHERE.

In fact the Bible says the opposite. And I have to thank my beautiful friend Patience for sending me this perfect verse. In 1 Samuel 16:7 it says "But the Lord said to Samuel, "Do not consider his appearance or his height for I have rejected him. The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart," 


The heart of the worshiper. That's what God cares about. He doesn't look at whether you are wearing a hat, wearing a skirt or dress or if you have tattoos covering every single pore of your body. His desire is for relationship with you. He wants your heart.

And further, how are you reaching out and fulfilling the mission Jesus set for the church? We need to meet people where we are not stand on our pulpits and expect the world to change for us.

But I have to say that the saddest part of all of this is that while I was sitting next to the Journey ladies, they were singing to God as if nothing had happened because they knew it wasn't about them. They were there to worship God, not to put on a show. And God still worked in spite of everything because the woman sitting in front of us was in tears because the ladies' voices touched her heart.

Witnessing all of this makes me value the freedom that I have to worship in my jeans and my hat :)

Till Next Time...