Rachel and me…

I just watched ‘The Rachel Divide’ on Netflix and I was shook. Simply because I understand. It’s difficult to explain without going into great depth and opening up about my own life in too much detail but I ‘get where she’s coming from’ yet I also see where she made mistakes. However, isn’t that all we humans tend to see? Other people’s mistakes? How is it always so easy to focus on the ‘bad’ that people have done, rather than the ‘good’? It hurts me, every time I notice the eagerness of mankind to acknowledge other people’s mistakes, failures, down-falls and mess-ups, and gloat as if we ourselves are without any.

I have walked in and out of Christianity for the past 17 years, and although I will never be able (or willing) to forget what I have learned, I can honestly say that my struggles aren’t as much between me and God but more between me and the church. Many seem to be extremely good in highlighting other people’s mess-ups; their sins, their errors, their mistakes, and it’s gut-wrenching. Although the Bible clearly says that “only those without sin are ‘allowed’ to cast the first stone” it’s obvious many, sincerely, believe they are without sin -based on the amount of stones being cast at that unfortunate and unlucky ‘sinner’, after they owned up to their temporary lapse of judgment-. Shouldn’t we gather around one another after one has fallen? Pick them up, dust them off and show unconditional love? Here too, does the Bible speaks of showing love (“if one falls down, the other can reach out and help, but woe to anyone who falls and has no one to help them up”)

I feel Rachel Dolezal’s devastation after watching her story. She felt she was finally surrounded by ‘family’ and now she lost all because of her ‘lapse in judgement’. Although I understand that most people aren’t Christians (even though they may say they are) it is still mind blowing to see how much anger is out there, towards her. Without even listening to what she has to say. Without knowing WHY she did what she did, we condemn. I am sure many will have another opinion and that is fine, but really… why can’t we leave each (non-violent) person as they are? Let go and let God? Don’t we expect the same for the trans-genders amongst us?

You may wonder what triggered me to write this and what it is exactly that I understand. Well, when growing up I felt unwanted and a mistake. I missed being loved, cuddled, affirmed, and praised. I felt as if everything I did and said was wrong. I felt my presence alone was enough to trigger something… anything. I was unhappy, unwanted, sad and depressed. I wanted my mum; and to me it seemed as if she didn’t want me. I am sure her story would be completely different, and that too is okay. To me the word ‘history’ didn’t just occur out of nothing. It was ‘his’ story and this is mine.

For some reason I’ve always had black friends. There was some kind of ‘natural camaraderie’. I was accepted into their homes, and the love and warmth I experienced was often so overwhelming that I didn’t want to go home. I was allowed to call the adults auntie and uncle, which was way better than calling them Mr. or Mrs. ‘so-and-so’ or Junior’s mum or dad. Not only that, I just knew in my spirit that my presence was welcome and wanted. The more I grew attached to them the more I started to embrace their culture, their ways, their food… their history. Their nature became my nurture… but I am not black.

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