"The Slow Sin of Normalcy"

Like so many privileged people, I hoped for a time that life would return to some semblance of "normal" after the 2020 election and after the pandemic fades. As time went by, I began to hope as well for the "new normal" that pundits told us to expect. Months of sheltering in place and socially distanced connections had left me both longing to hug my loved ones and ready to let go of the busy lifestyle I'd had before COVID. I hoped that we could bring to our world the benefits of slowing down and traveling less that had allowed the air to clear and the oceans to quiet (see April 22, 2020 post ). 

I do still hope for that. But thanks to Reverend Phiwa Langeni, Ambassador for Innovation & Engagement of the United Church of Christ and founder of Salus Center, the only LGBTQ resource and community center in Lansing, Michigan, I no longer hope for a return to what I took as "normal"; my sense of that has shifted. I have been challenged by Reverend Langeni's statement that, "the slow sin of normalcy" is "a privilege most of the world cannot enjoy."

I hadn't equated "normalcy," sin, and privilege before I read these words. But that's because I hadn't been thinking deeply enough. Of course one might yearn for a return to what is "normal" when that includes sufficient food and clean water, adequate clothing, safe and warm shelter, access to improved sanitation, convenient transportation, quality health care, unfettered opportunities for education and employment, time for leisure, freedom to travel, social acceptance, and physical safety, including protection by law enforcement and safety from governmental mistreatment. But for much of the world -- and for far too many in our own country, particularly in our BIPOC communities -- that's not what "normal" has ever looked like. 

Those of us who live in cisgendered White bodies have but to look around us to see that what we experience as "normal" has been a slow sin, indeed. As one such person, I have been taught since birth that I am the norm, and that our society works for people like me. I have always seen people who look like me in books, magazines, and movies. I have not had to fear being profiled or targeted. I have been able to believe that if I just work hard enough, I can provide for myself and my family, and that I can succeed at whatever I choose to do. And for too long, I believed that my experience of the world was typical. Of course it is not.

"Normalizing," I've come to see, is one of the more insidious features of White supremacy. Because it seems so benign, we don't question it. Because it seems such a low bar, it's easy to accept the myth that those who are struggling just need to try harder. Accepting -- or worse yet, embracing -- the notion of normalcy allows those who are privileged to believe that they deserve their lot. Unchallenged, it can lead those who are left out to see themselves as undeserving.

At the very least, elevating what's "normal" hardens the lines we draw around ourselves and those we deem "other." And the longer we live in that deception -- the more generations that receive it -- the more entrenched it becomes. If we think of sin as anything that separates us from love (or, as my faith teaches, that separates us from God), then 400 years of normalizing our unique White supremacist culture seems to me the epitome of a slow sin. 

So where do we go from here? Reverend Langeni prays that that we will be flung into "a world that's unraveling from the slow sin of normalcy...." Musician Alfred Howard catalogues both gifts and great sins of our society, affirming that, "I love America, just not this rendition." They have faith in our potential to move beyond what we have been, to lift up those who have not been privileged. So do I.

And I see signs of hope around us. I'll do a post about them soon. But for now, perhaps it would be helpful for those of us who just want our lives to "go back to normal" to pause and reflect upon what that would really mean, not only for ourselves, but for all our siblings. Then we can continue the drive to dismantle White supremacy. It's on us to do this work, and we can do it.

Love,

Nancie/Mom/Mimi/Grandma