You go to a Black Church? How Fun!

I joined New Mount Olive Missionary Baptist church when my good friend Datrian, whom I was in a singing group with at the time, invited me to visit. I was shopping for a new home since the church I had been attending was a startup that after a few years of toil, was deemed unsuccessful by the parent church and disbanded. The pastor and his wife moved to a new church in Durham, and the whole thing was just heartbreaking. I loved that church.

Anyways, I (white) ran into a couple (white) that I had known from that previous church experience (all white) shortly after I had become a member at NMO.

Me: Oh hey ya'll! Long time no see, how are things?

Them: Things are great! We found a new church. We've been going to *blank* (insert visible, well known, predominantly white church) and we just love it. How about you?

Me: Oh I'm so glad! Finding a new church home can be such a challenge. I've been going to New Mount Olive Missionary Baptist Church.

Them:

Me: Um, it's over off of Livingston, behind the hospital.

Them:

Me: It's been here a long time, it was founded in the early 1900's.

Them:

Me: *sigh* It's one of the oldest Black churches in the city

Them:

Them: Oh how fun!

Me:

Me: I mean, I don't go to be entertained. It's church. I go to worship.

Them: Oh yeah, no we know. Just... interesting that our churches are still so segregated and different after all this time.

Me:

Me: I ah...I don't know that we have the time to unpack all that right here, but it's only because of racist policies, segregation, and jim crow that the body of Christ was forced into racialized worship in the first place. Now, I think it's more a matter of you go to church where you feel most comfortable, or where you grew up. Me, I grew up Assemblies of God. Pastor J was raised pentecostal as well, so his style of preaching is comfortable for me. I also enjoy a more exuberant worship service, because that's how I was raised.

Them: *awkwardly backpedaling* Oh yeah no totally. It's just interesting that they are so different still. Like, I don't know, maybe they've been given a gift to be good at the worship stuff but we're better at the head stuff, or something.

Me:

Me: Black people can read, you know.

Them: ...

Me: ...

Them: Ok, well! So glad you're doing great, we gotta head out. See ya later!

Now, to be fair, I think that in the moment these folks were confronted with some subconscious beliefs that they had never had a chance to examine properly in private, let alone in public. But it's a weird experience that I have a lot, so I thought I'd sit down and write a blog post so we can DISCUSS

"I would love to come to your church sometime" is something I hear a lot. Now, I only and exclusively hear it from white people, and only after the church's historical identity is revealed. Which is a bit strange considering I have plenty of non-white friends who couldn't give a damn about going to church with me. So...are the white people in my world just more desperate for God and willing to seek out their healing in a Christian church space? Are my non-white friends less interested in the Christian church for cultural and historic reasons?

Or, have my white friends bought into the whole stereotype that "Black Church" is simply more fun than "White Church" cause you get a whole lotta this:

Or this:

Instead of this:

It's a simple equation.

White = stuffy, boring, quiet, rules based.

Black = exuberant, loud, full bodied worship, spirit based.

But here's the thing ya'll - I've been a Christian my entire life.

My. Entire. Life.

And not a "Sunday and Christmas" Christian, oh no. I've been an "Sunday, Wednesday, and sometimes Tuesday, showing up early for prayer meetings, fasting, tithing, worship leading, Christian my ENTIRE LIFE, and I've been to a LOT of churches in a LOT of different states, countries, and continents. This distinction between "White" church and "Black" church is something I have only encountered since moving to the South, because where I come from, those sorts of distinctions are a question of denomination. Spirit filled denominations are generally characterized by all those lovely adjectives I used to describe Black Church, regardless of the racial makeup. And your more traditional protestant denominations (Lutherans or Presbyterians, for example) tend to be less exuberant, regardless of racial makeup. I was talking to Pastor J about this a week or so ago because what I'm beginning to suspect is, it's an issue of class identity as well.

Let me explain:

It all goes back to 1906, when the pentecostal movement was born out of a series of revivals in Azusa California. These revivals were led by a Black preacher named William J. Seymour, and were multi-ethnic, and multicultural (read: lotta white and Latinx folks. In 1906. Not exactly an era characterized by its progressive integration measures, though California was a slightly different beast then say, South Carolina). Now, this isn't really the forum for an exhaustive history of charismatic christianity, but suffice it to say, this revival was the beginning of a wide spread, pentecostal movement in the US. Out of that revival, there were three main denominations born; Assemblies of God (predominantly white), The Church of God in Christ (predominantly Black) and a third one that isn't relevant to my narrative so google it if you're already like, "damn, this is fascinating tell me more" (which you might be, it is very interesting).

ANYWAYS

Both denominations became associated with charismatic worship and gifts of the spirit - this includes speaking in tongues, laying on of hands for healing, stuff like that. But here's the kicker ya'll - especially in the South, they also became associated with poor folks. You know, the pentecostals I'm talking about. The ones that get made fun of in movies like The Campaign for their 'snake handlin' ways if they're white, or stereotyped for an entirely different reason in Tyler Perry movies if they're Black. But there is an additional intersection that both of these stereotypes touch on, one that's not just based on spiritual affiliation but one that's based on class. Because in both instances, the characters being depicted are working class or, in some instances, even poorer.

Because your class affiliation is something you perform. Remember Kathy Bates' character in the movie Titanic? How she technically was just as rich as all those other fancy pants dudes, but was kept kinda outside the social circle cause she didn't act right? It's because no matter how much money she acquired, there's a certain way you're supposed to behave when you have money that is generally learned as you grow up, and is more difficult to emulate if you "come into it" as and older person. It's what they call "good breeding" - when just cause someone was born with a silver spoon up their butt, they all of a sudden spontaneously know exactly how to dress for the Kentucky Derby and what all the forks are for at the dinner table. We've all seen Pretty Woman. We know what this looks like.

But back to this "Black" church "White" church thing. I'm not gonna sit here and say that there's not some unique element to Black church, or Black worship specifically. That would be stupid. The historical musical influences that participate in the formulation of Southern Black gospel are undeniable. But listen - I've seen white people burn the house down singing Black worship songs, and even in the church that I go to certain songs that are kind of standard were originally recorded by white people (I'm looking at you Vicki Yohe). So I want you to avoid this whole "Black Worship" thing (cause frankly, it's a little bit racist. I'm not trying to make you mad, but you should go read Ibram X. Kendi if that statement gives you feels) and instead look at the social, cultural, and historical conditions that produced gospel music. This is where we find the intersections where race, oppression, and expression meet.

You gotta think about what church meant for Black people, especially during Jim Crow and the Civil Rights Movement. Black people were (and are) under such tremendous oppression at all times. There was (is) constant vigilance, because as long as a white person was within a 10 foot radius, violence, accusations of wrongdoing, and even death were eminently possible (and still are). The church became one of the few places where Black people could breathe a sigh of relief, have some respite from the constant threat of violence and death that being in proximity to whiteness meant, and cry out. Cry out to God, to one another, to let all the hurt and all the anger and all the pain of being in a society that constantly targeted them brought. A place to stop performing and just be. It's a truly sacred place, one that there is no equivalent to for white people.

But.

For poor whites, who were also in many ways shut out of the "American Dream" because capitalism is inherently designed to create an enormous class divide that is extremely difficult for anyone to cross, crying out to God in these exuberant ways served a similar purpose. It was also a release from the pressure of living in a coal mining town, exploited by the energy company you worked for, who charged exorbitant prices for the home (they owned) that you lived in, or the food you bought (from a store they also owned). When it all came off the top of your paycheck, and what you had left over was never enough to plan your escape, you had no one else to cry out to but God. When trying to survive was so difficult the idea of lifting up and out poverty was an impossible dream that got smaller and smaller every day. The pain, the exhaustion - I know what that feels like. I know what it's like to not have two pennies to rub together. Eating mushy apples and cereal cause the stamps run out and they won't get refreshed until Friday. Being grateful for the box of old clothes some anonymous person dropped off on your front porch, knowing you need them, but not wanting to embarrass you (it's embarrassing anyways, FYI).

I know what it's like. And it's why sitting in a stuffy, gorgeous, stained glass church with my white gloves on, singing crusty ass hymns from a book that hasn't been updated since 1907 does not move me. Because acting like you have all your 'ish together is a performance of class. It lets the world know you don't struggle. You don't have trauma. You don't need God to rescue you because you are on top of the mountain already. It's an emulation of class ya'll, not a racial distinction. And it's an emulation I have absolutely no desire to embody.

So. You wanna come to church with me. That's great, awesome. But I need you to check yourself and ask why. If it's because you were raised in a church that taught you emulating class was more important than telling the truth (which is that rich people are just as fucked up as anyone else) and you are tired of hiding, please come. If it's because you are heartbroken by the racial divide in Christianity, and you desire to express solidarity against the wicked schemes of division that we have all been enculturated to treat as normal, come. If you've heard me talk a TON about my pastor and have seen the fruit in my own life and are curious, oh my goodness yes, come.

But if you have judgment about how poor white people in your life have worshiped in the exact same way as my church, if you feel ashamed when you think of how pentecostal snake handlers are stereotyped in the media because you don't want to be associated vis a vis shared racial makeup with "poor white trash", then I need you to ask yourself if your desire to participate in my church isn't thinly veiled classism. I need you to ask yourself, if you can't wait to come because it'll be "entertaining" then it's possible your desire to peek in on the "other" is good old fashioned racism disguised as a desire for integration. If you want to come to my church because it's Black History month and "participate in Black culture" is just a thing you need to cross of your list or post to instagram about (that one hurt)...you see where I'm going with this. These are hard questions ya'll. But if white America doesn't start asking them, we aren't going to get anywhere.

I love ya'll. This was a hard one. Stay warm, and stay safe ok?