Quoting Dr. King on matters of race, and the simple way we can heal each other

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” — Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. 

Last summer, as a lot of the George Floyd protests/riots broke out across America, I got into a debate with one of my sons. It began with back-and-fourth texting and ended with some harsh words over the phone. 

At one point he quoted Dr. Martin Luther King’s letter during his incarceration in Birmingham, Ala. It was — and is — a thoughtful quote from an insightful and sincere man of God.

"First, I must confess that over the last few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in the stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen's Council-er or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate who is more devoted to ‘order’ than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says ‘I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I can't agree with your methods of direct action;’ who paternalistically feels he can set the timetable for another man's freedom; who lives by the myth of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait until a ‘more convenient season.’”

I freely admit I considered the thought, and did indeed feel a sense of guilt within me.

It’s not hard to do the math. I am a man in my mid 50s, which means I am a child of the late 1960s and 70s. I was too young to remember the race riots of 1968, but certainly old enough to remember ensuing racial tensions. That also means I was around and old enough to appreciate the social shift — gradual as it may have been — in the late 70s and 80s.

I spent much of my formative years in the Bible Belt of the American south. Texas, to be precise. Soft racism existed, no doubt. Unfortunately, I probably participated in it on some levels. I suppose it was a less enlightened time back then; or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe back then the message was more about tolerance and less about sensitivity.

But I can note with sincerity that as I got older and gained more wisdom, I clearly saw the evils of racism, and though I certainly suppose I could have spoken out more, I was still just a teenager doing the best he could with what he had at that moment in time. I reasoned that the best thing I could do was not to see color, but rather simply see … people. I of course knew all the different races, and in my heart I honestly believed the best thing I could do was to see everyone as human beings.

Getting back to my conversation with my son over the summer, I felt he was telling my beliefs weren’t enough and that, in fact, they were systemically racist.

He even implied I was racist.

That sent me over the edge, unfortunately. Things have calmed down considerably between us, which of course is a very good thing, but much of it is the result of simply not discussing such sensitive topics. Even now, I am angry at the implication I am a racist, whether the accusation comes from my son or anyone else.

My response is always the same.

You. Don’t. Know. Me.

On more than one occasion I have told my children — particularly my two oldest boys whose political views don’t line up with mine — about my own father and his views on race.

My father, a child of the depression and Korean War veteran, was not necessarily a racist man. But the fact remains he grew up in rural Utah, in a mining community comprised of several ethnicities. He grew up with Greeks and Italians, not to mention white Mormons, among others. Though not a bad man in any way, there is no doubt he harbored racist beliefs that were far more cultural than personal. My father was not alone in that regard, not by a long stretch. Yes, without a doubt, America was a much more racist country back then than it is now. Others, I know, disagree with this notion and argue that it remains deeply racist.

But that is simply not true. Yes, I know I am saying this as a middle-aged white male, which makes me the enemy in some circles (which in and of itself is a derivative of racial profiling). I am definitely aware of why it’s not necessarily my place to make such a judgement. Still, a rudimentary study of history clearly shows that American in 2021 is obviously less racist than 1921, or 1821 or 1721 or … well, you get the picture.

There is nothing wrong with acknowledging the obvious evolution of thought, political and otherwise. And in no way does that mean denying there is still more to be done. I know I am personally capable of holding both thoughts in my head at the same time.

Getting back to my father …

As a teenager I understood his views to be somewhat … antiquated. And they made me somewhat uncomfortable. Again, I feel I need to note that he was a loving man. He was not hateful, just a bit unenlightened, which was not unusual for a white child of the Depression who grew up in rural Utah now finding himself in the 1970s and 80s.

I understood none of that as a teenager, but nevertheless it was not unusual for me to set him straight on modern issues of race. In some ways I took it upon myself to make him more enlightened, and to his enduring credit, he never fought or argued with me. He did his best to change in his way and on his terms.

And he absolutely did makes changes in how he saw the world. They weren’t necessarily monumental changes, but changes nevertheless.

He was, like anyone of us at any given time, trying to do the best he could with what knowledge he had.

So given that, I think it’s pretty easy to see why I get furiously offended when anyone calls me a racist, or implies I’m somehow on the wrong side of history. I'm not adverse to education when needed, but I do not need to be lectured, least of all from someone whose views are transparently hypocritical.

I try not to use bad language in my blogposts. It’s not that I’m necessarily offended by swearing, but rather, I have a number or friends and relatives who are, and I want to respect them.

That said, I absolutely think, with every fiber of my being, that to call someone like me a racist without having any understanding of my background or beliefs — to throw a blanket statement over me based on my age, skin color and family of origin — is the highest level of bullshit.

And I said as much to my son last summer.

Even now, as I type the words, I feel myself getting angry at the absurdity of the implication.

Bullshit.

In the discussion with my son, when he referenced the MLK quote, I made a statement by which I still stand.

I told him quoting Dr. King was like quoting the Bible or Confucius or Gandhi or Mother Theresa or Abraham Lincoln or, heck, beloved college basketball coach John Wooden. Sift through all the axioms and you can pretty much find something to fit your viewpoint.

At that point, one of us hung up on the other. But the fact remains, for better or worse, the statement is true. Factor in, too, the immediacy of finding aphorisms — political and otherwise — on the Internet (as opposed to searching for them in an actual library book [egad!]), and add to that the prevalence of social media, and the power of a good quote can be weakened, discounted or ignored altogether.

For example, Dr. King’s quote, “A riot is the language of the unheard” appeared on numerous social media memes over the summer, particularly from those on the political Left. However, after the January 6 U.S. Capitol riot, I saw no use of the meme anywhere on social media, even though a riot did occur and people did indeed, on some level, feel unheard. Those are facts; you don't have to like what happened, but to deny that protesters, and even at least some of the rioters, felt marginalized by those in government and media is to deny reality.

My personal belief — Conservative though it may be — is that the violence, riots and non-peaceful protests over the summer were abhorrently wrong and largely disingenuous (as opposed to the peaceful ones), and that the mainstream media’s reporting of them was completely lacking in balance and evenhandedness. Additionally, I was as equally appalled by the violence carried out at the Capitol in January.

Once again, I’m able to hold those two ideas in my head at the same time and reason them both. But, of course, I did find it strange and embarrassing (though not unsurprising) that the mainstream media flip-flopped in how they reported them.

Now around 1,500 words into this beast, I’m ready to address the quote that tops this blog.

Having already noted the availability of MLK quotes that generally can be used to support a person’s viewpoint, I admittedly choose one I liked and did the same thing. The quote I’ve chosen to use is indeed a good one, significant in its insight into human nature.

Dr. King, for all he is held up to be, was filled with, and preached, Christian love. His usage of the darkness and light, not in skin tone but as metaphors for good and evil, is spot on and not uncommon. Evil is often done under the cover of darkness or in the shadows because perpetuators of evil don’t usually do their deeds in the daylight because they are ashamed. And those who perpetuate good are not, or at least ought not be, afraid to do practice their goodness in daylight, because there is nothing shameful in doing good.

Make sense? Good. So, yes, Dr. King’s quote about only light being able to drive out darkness is perfectly correct. Matching hate for hate will never drive away hate. Only genuine love can drive away hate.

It’s a remarkably simple concept, yet one that seems to be missing in our modern society so fraught with contempt, fear and confusion. Being careful of the line between simple common sense and something more metaphysical, I’ll simply note that we, societally speaking, are far more focused on sensitivity than tolerance.

It’s not as though sensitivity is a bad thing, just that tolerance is more useful tool. Essentially, if one practices tolerance, he or she will naturally feel a sensitivity toward other human beings. If one focuses only on sensitivity, tolerance will never be enough.

When it comes to the thorny matters of race, there are no easy answers, not now anyway. I truly believe that we, as a society, made a mistake in pushing sensitivity over tolerance. We opened the door for hatred to match hatred, and closed the door on love being enough. We promoted an us-versus-them agenda rather than an agenda of inclusion and commonality.

We promoted division over unity.

We promoted darkness over light.

Unless something changes in how we approach and view each other, we’re in for a lot more of the same. But, happily, the answer to this is remarkably simple. All it requires is walking, putting one foot in front of the other.

People on either side of the political/cultural divide need only take steps toward the middle, slowly but surely. That’s the easy part; the more troublesome challenge is to take those steps in faith, trusting that those on the other side will do the same. Ultimately though, that sort of reciprocity does not matter, because personal growth takes root on the inside and shines outwardly.

Like sunshine.