When You Say...it Makes Me Feel

I have a neighbor who is sophisticated and funny. She dresses like Michelle Obama (by her own, hopeful, admission) and laughs with a huge smile revealing her adult braces. She is a great woman.

Last year we practically pinky-swore that we would watch every episode of Downton Abbey together so that we could bond over our vintage soap-opera (so says my Big Strong Man) and actually get together, like we always say we will.
We watched one episode together. One. On the floor of my living room, with popcorn and apples.

So neighbor, I have so much respect for you. You are educated and hard working, You love the Lord Jesus and give of yourself tirelessly.
But neighbor, you wrote something recently on your Facebook account and I hoped we could talk about it.  I know, I know, this is a PUBLIC post, ABOUT YOU, what on earth am I thinking? But actually, I am thinking about you... and me... and our society. I am thinking about my children, and those you teach, and, honest and truly, everyone who may stumble across this post.
Because this is what you wrote...and this is how it makes me feel.

#blackgirlsrock

I agree that black girls rock. No doubt. So do white girls, and Hispanic girls and Asian girls and a multitude of others.

The thing is, although this was not meant to condemn the girl who is not black, it kind of does.

I actually do not think that you should feel the need to explain yourself. And I actually do not think that you think black girls are better than girls who are not black, but I just wonder....

If I write #whiteboysrock does that offend you? Does it offend the boys who are not white?

Because I have three, white sons.
And here's the catch:

Once upon a time I felt guilty- GUILTY- for having white sons. Because I have been led to believe that "white guilt" is not only real, but necessary.*

And it is not.

My sons had no say -NONE- in their genes.
Just like neither you, nor I, did. We are who we are because God designed us this way.

I know history well enough to understand that there are still great hurts different groups of people feel toward one another, real hurts.

Can I just ask -JUST PUT THIS OUT THERE- that we have all fallen short of glory. That we have all made good and bad choices. That the color of our skin (or our gender, faith, nationality, etc.) is not the end-all be-all.

Because black girls do rock, and you are a black girl (woman) and I respect you. I am a white girl (woman) and I know you respect me. So is the hashtag necessary? Does it prove some point?

#thinkitover -

* "It's something like the homeless man I served a burger to in 105-degree heat who told me, 'I hope this satisfies your white guilt for the day'." -Jen Hatmaker, Interrupted, page 61