This is an article, completely copy and pasted from a June 1, 2020 article from CNN entitled, “99 Years Ago Today, America was shaken by one of its deadliest acts of racial violence.” Written by Alicia Lee and Sara Sidner. My goal and intention is not to plagiarize whatsoever. These are not my words, except to say that I am baffled (and really appalled) as to where this was in my textbooks growing up. I love history. It was my favorite subject in school. Yet embarrassingly enough, after living three decades on this earth, today was the first time I read about such an atrocity. It really is mind-blowing and heartbreaking beyond words. Not to mention there is quite a bit of information this article does not cover, like bombs being dropped out of planes. Really, this is so much more than broken glass and hurt feelings. Please. Look up and read more on this topic, this tragedy. And before you go pointing fingers at the ways in which people are expressing their frustration, be sure to do your best to understand why they are mad.

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As Americans’ rage over racial injustice boils over into a sixth day of protests, Monday also marks the 99th anniversary of one of the worst acts of racial violence the country has ever seen.

This year’s anniversary of the 1921 Tulsa race massacre comes amid nationwide demonstrations sparked by the death of George Floyd, a 46-year-old unarmed black man who died last week at the hands of a white police officer in Minneapolis, Minnesota.

And while Floyd’s name along with his repeated plea, ‘I can’t breathe,’ have been exclaimed by thousands of protesters, the victims’ names of the Tulsa race massacre have been rarely spoken as the incident went unmentioned for decades in classrooms across the state. Here’s how the massacre, also known as the Tulsa Race Riot, unfolded.

In the 1920s, the Greenwood Distrct was dubbed “Black Wall Street” as the community boasted more than 300 black-owned businesses, including two theaters, doctors, pharmacists, and even pilot who owned his own private airplane.

The success of this black community, however, caused some white people in Tulsa to become envious and angry, according to Mechelle Brown, director of programs at the Greenwood Cultural Center. They commented, ‘How dare these negroes have a grand piano in their house, and I don’t have a piano in my house,’ Brown told CNN’s Sara Sidner in 2016.

The tension reached its tipping point after an elevator incident between a 17-year-old white girl named Sarah Page and a 19-year-old black man named Dick Rowland. Page worked as an elevator operator and Rowland would use the elevator almost every day. ‘This particular day after the elevator doors closed and Sarah Page and Dick Rowland were alone in the elevator a few moments, there was a scream,’ Brown said. After the elevator doors opened, Roland ran and was later arrested. Page initially claimed that she was assaulted, Brown said. Other historic accounts say Rowland tripped leaving the elevator grabbed Page’s arm, she screamed and an onlooker went to authorities. While Page never pressed charges, authorities did, and by the end of the day the rumor was that Page had been raped.

On May 31, a group of black and white men confronted each other at the courthouse where Rowland was being held. After shots were fired, all hell broke loose. Outnumbered African Americans retreated to Greenwood District, but early morning the next day, a white mob started to loot and burn businesses in Greenwood, according to the Tulsa Historical Society and Museum.

In a span of just 24 hours, 35 square blocks were burned and over 1,200 houses destroyed. Contemporary reports of deaths began at 36, but historians now believe as many as 300 people died, according to the Tulsa Historical Society and Museum.

At the end of the violence, Black Wall street had been decimated. Photos show dead African American residents lying in the streets. The scene was recreated in the first episode of the HBO series “Watchmen.”

In the decades following the 1921 massacre, it was largely unacknowledged. “Oklahoma schools did not talk about it. In fact, newspapers didn’t even riot any information about the Tulsa Race Riot,” US Senator James Lankford of Oklahoma told CNN affiliate KFOR in 2018. “It was completely ignored. It was one of those horrible events that everyone wanted to sweep under the rug and ignore.”

Oklahoma leaders announced in February that the state would move forward with embedding the story of the 1921 Tulsa Race Massacre into the curriculum of all Oklahoma schools. The city of Tulsa continues to investigate what happened to the victims’ bodies and has been digging for mass graves.

For more reading: Please visit the following–

A Report by the Oklahoma Commission to Study the Tulsa Race Riot of 1921: https://www.okhistory.org/research/forms/freport.pdf

An Eyewitness Account of the Race Riot Found in 2015: https://www.smithsonianmag.com/smithsonian-institution/long-lost-manuscript-contains-searing-eyewitness-account-tulsa-race-massacre-1921-180959251/

If you’d like to switch it up and watch a YouTube video instead: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x-ItsPBTFO0

And of course, the CNN link which this post came and is copied from: https://www.cnn.com/2020/06/01/us/tulsa-race-massacre-1921-99th-anniversary-trnd/index.html

I can only imagine how maddening this must be.  To think that 400 years ago from your ancestor’s very first shackled steps off of the transatlantic slave trade ships and onto the rich soil of the land of the free, that you were already labeled less than and legal property because of the way you look.  I am so sorry, friend.  That was wrong in the utmost sense of the word—evil, sinful, despicable.  But still you persevered.  You pushed through and pressed on, sitting on buses where you were not welcome and eating at counters that served nothing but hatred and hostility.  You’ve obliged yourselves under a societal contract you had no choice to sign and fought to integrate into a country not built for your success.  What a powerful testament that is to you and your people and your tenacity.  Think on that.  Be proud of that.

Now I say all that not to lecture you but to remind me, to feel the gravity and acknowledge the reality of the continued hatred within this nation.   I certainly do not have the capacity to empathize with nor can I  understand how frustrated the black community must feel right now.  I cannot fix.  I do not know.  Yet, still I will write.  I write to call out and condemn the injustices against you, my black brothers and sisters who have tried everything from taking a stand to taking a knee, to protesting peacefully and then also resorting to by any means necessary.  I write to reach out.  I write to check in, to offer the very little that I am able to—a listening ear, a humble heart, and an unspeakably deep desire to make things right and to care for my friends well.  

Given all of that, it is not above me to come to the table with my own biases and sometimes my foot in my mouth.  I can only ask instructed Christians and you dear friends to watch me carefully and tell me when I go wrong.  That being said, I am here for the messy heart conversations.  I want to help alleviate and eliminate the burden of this collective hurt. I don’t always know what to do or what to say or how to act, but, if you would have me as an ally and a friend, consider this my 400-word roundabout way of saying, “Count me in.  I am with you.”  Because I do indeed see color.  And I honor it.  I celebrate that color and support you, and I want to learn how to do it better.  

My friend did this for her boyfriend, and it got me thinking.  Well, she actually came up with 100 ways, but that is a lot.  So I decided on 50.  But that too was a lot.  Then I realized, I am pretty terrible at this glass-is-half-full mentality, but I want to be better.  So I am starting with 10, and I am slowly but surely working on giving myself more grace and speaking more life over the mixed up, mismatched pieces that make up me.

1. I get to do all of my favorite hobbies (flowers, coffee, kids, dancing, and the arts in general) and get paid for them.  This smorgasbord of extracurricular activities I have pieced together doesn’t exactly come with a definite 10-year plan or a 401k…but I  have tasted and I have seen that which brings me joy and fulfillment, and I am just naive and/or desperate enough to follow those leads.  That said, if anyone can hook me up with a (coffee or flower or really any kind of) farm and/or a coffee roasting Yoda and/or a construction / set and design master, I’d love to learn more about those things.
2. I don’t know if there is necessarily anything that I did to win in this arena, but I am claiming it as a victory–I have the best friends ever.  You are all so spread out and span a varying range of how much I get to see and talk to you, but I love you.  For those who have paid my rent before, bought my plane tickets, opened up your houses and your lives, encouraged me with your words, pushed me when I wanted to give up, held my hand and held the light for me when I couldn’t see two inches in front of my face, for those of you who shared a cup of coffee and/or a 4-hour meal with me, listened to me, prayed for me, and have stuck around and been persistent for long enough to get to know my heart and share in my journey–THANK YOU.  I could write a post alone on how awesome you all are, and still that would not even begin to scratch the surface.
3. New York freakin’ City. If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere.  I mean, I am still here…aren’t I?  Almost 7 years later.  Now as far as what “making it” really means?  That’s a great question, Malia.  Ergo, this list.
4. I have always wanted to go to Colorado. So I am going.  I am all about planning and making wise life decisions, but sometimes I just  overthink things.
5. I can do a pull-up. As my body tends towards degeneration and throws temper tantrums more frequently at the gym and the studio, I have to say…even in my prime while dancing 25+ hours a week and playing varsity basketball and volleyball, I could never do a pull-up!  That said, you win some, you lose some.  Or, you lose a lot…but by golly George, you win a pull-up with the additional prize of shoulders that no longer fit into your capped sleeve dresses anymore.
6. I am failing constantly and learning daily.  Thank goodness God made me so stubborn.  As much as I like to think that I am resilient and all of those positive attributes you see on T-shirts and tote bags, the truth of the matter is is that, I learn and gather information about myself and what it means and looks like to move forward more so from dead ends, detours, and the process of elimination than I do from divine revelations, enumerated lists, and perfectly articulated aspirations.
7. I get to be a part of the next generation.  I get to play a part in shaping young minds and cultivating their dreams.  I get to help equip them for their future, for our future.  For as my camp director and dear friend always says, “It is easier to prepare the youth than to repair them as adults.”
8. I paid off my student loans.  I have health insurance and great credit.  I have a dental cleaning scheduled for next month, and I filed my taxes already.  I know this just sounds like boring adult stuff that you’re supposed to do, but when you’re a full-time freelancing hustler in the city that never sleeps, you’ll claim any little victory you can get!
9. My family.  I cannot say enough wonderful things about you all.  So I will just post a picture and consider it a thousand words of my best attempt.  (Not pictured: 2 amazing sister-in-laws).
10. “You’re tied down to the mundane; I’m in touch with what is beyond your horizons.  You live in terms of what you see and touch.  I’m living on other terms.”  Did you ever wonder if there was more to life than this? Well, there is.  And I know the secret.  Let me know if you want in.  There’s more than enough room in this club.

Bad and banal and fragmented thoughts

Bunny trail run-ons and often the improper tense

Superfluous adverbs and repetitive words

And straight up, concepts that just don’t make sense

Wrong punctuation and spelling errors, guaranteed

Thoughts here and thoughts there that remain incomplete

That’s probably what you’ll find

Most likely what you’ll read here

Still here it is, here I am

Confronting one of my biggest fears:

To allow others to enter the musings of my mind

To let them in, to draw them close

And to not run and hide

For fear that they might see something that’s wrong…

And, or, for fear they might see something that’s right

For fear that I might quite possibly be known

For fear that I might very well be exposed

Well, the cat’s out of the bag

It’s down the alley and across the street.

Breaking news!

I don’t have it all together

But perfection is not what I seek.

I desire to be honest

The way that cheap yoga pants are to thighs.

I desire to be transparent

With every aspect of my life;

With my broken and blurry and fragmented dreams;

My proclivity for scaled options, snooze buttons, and ease;

My superfluous worries,

And struggles with XY and Z,

My hesitation to have expectations

And senseless anxiety to encounter my limitations.

That’s just a preview of what you’ll find,

Most likely what you’ll read here.

Still here it is, here I am

Conquering one of my biggest fears.

Writing.

Sharing.

Getting back into literary shape.

Being known.

Being seen.

Being okay

With being me.

Because this is where I am

But this isn’t where I’ll stay

So come along as I progress

Little by little every day.

—–

Choose love when your 6-year old gets chicken pox and throws off all of your summer vacation plans.  Choose love when your 8-year old slips and then rips your pants right down the back pocket seams because she was holding onto them while learning how to ice skate.  Choose love when your 10-year drops the overpriced, swirly lollipop at Disneyland that you just bought her ten minutes ago.  Choose love when your 14-year old accuses you of not caring about her life.  Choose love when your 16-year old pretends not to know who you are in public.

Choose love, my friend.

Choose to love her hard and well and every day, though you will most certainly not receive a full return on your investment, in this life.

Do this, however, and do it right and she will continue to eat foot-long veggie patties with no onions from Subway, just because that’s what you two ate every Saturday after dance.  She will love to listen to solo pianists because that’s what you played.  She will build things because that’s what you guys enjoyed doing together.  She will travel with your blue backpack because she’s got your pioneering spirit and adventurous personality and will continue to create things because that’s the gift you have encouraged within her.  And she will strive to the best spouse and parent and human being that she can be because that’s who you were.  And every day up until then and thereafter, she will choose love.  And she will love.  Because that’s what you did.  She will love well and always because you first loved her.

—–

The full range, extent, and gravity of gratitude may not have reached your ears, Dad, but the ripples of your love continue to move onward and outward.  XOXO

There was that one time when Adventure asked her out, but with Adventure came risk.  So she chose Later.  Then there was that other time when Change gave her his phone number, but with Change also came uncertainty.  So she went back to Later.  Then several times over, Life-Worth-Living asked her out, called her up, pursued her, wooed her, and promised many good and wonderful things to her.  But with Life-Worth-Living came his own baggage of hard work, discipline, determination, grit, and perseverance, and so she once again and ultimately chose Later.

With that, she awoke suddenly.  All alone.  And lonely.

Outside, the air oozed with an uncomfortable warmth and stillness.  Clouds appeared.  Winds increased.  Lightning flashed across the sky.  One, two, three, four seconds later, an angry boom of thunder followed.  Inside and in the bottom-floor bedroom with the cotton-candy blue paint peeling off the walls, the old woman wiggled her crooked fingers.  The wrinkles in her forehead deepened as she winced in pain from the arthritis.  She certainly was not the sprightly twenty-something year old she used to be.  And as her stiff and toil worn body began to get some blood circulating throughout, she moved lethargically to the edge of the bed.  Slipping into a daze with her milky eyes wide open, she wondered, as she so often did, wherever did Later go?–the lover she chose but the lover who never chose her back.

“To make art is to sing with the human voice. To do this, you must learn that the only voice you need is the voice you already have.” –117, Art and Fear by David Bayles and Ted Orland

To create is both risqué and revealing.
It is to let the robe of “having it all together”
Slink off
To reveal the scars of the past
And the present blemishes
As well as to expose
The interior’s most guarded intimacies.
In the process,
One must be vulnerable and raw,
Perhaps unattractive and inarticulate,
And that’s okay.
For in spite of it being
A very scary thing to do,
For the soul that was created to create,
It must be done.
So in that place of discomfort,
Where the robe lies,
Where the silence screams
And the stillness prowls,
To accept oneself is to begin the process.
For the comeliness of creating
Is not in photoshopped perfection,
But rather resides in the curves of humanity,
The curves of the body already possessed:
The little extra here, the lack over there,
Those lines, these bends,
Within this is beautiful, beautiful body,
Which gives way to fertility and life,
That is where the richness lies.
For to create is to embrace and bare it all,
To bring the contents of the heart
Into the view of reality
And to celebrate the beauty of different.

To my true child in the faith,

May God the Father and Christ Jesus our Lord give you grace, mercy and peace.

The clock strikes midnight as the tip of my pen meets the paper.  My body is spent and eyelids heavy.  My circadian rhythm demands that I wrap it up and call it a day, but I can’t.  I can’t go to sleep because my heart for you is pumping out seismic disturbances, sending tidal waves of concern through my veins.

Up until this point, all you have known are babies and birthdays, school work and work schedules, deterioration and death and funerals.  Nothing more.  Nothing new.  Time moves me along at the same rate as it moves you, and every day that we live is one day closer to our death.  All is meaningless for nothing lasts.  At least, that is the case for those who don’t know the truth.

But you however, you have begun to become acquainted with the truth.  You know and are learning what I teach and how I live.  You know that at the core of me the conviction is real just as I am confident that the seeds in you are growing and are taking root.  Believe me, Timothy, when I say that this is more real than reality and the words you hear and read from Scripture are powerful and alive just as they are true.  You are beginning to know this, and you know better.

So why are you doing it, this thing for which you apparently need my advice about but know what I am going to say anyway?  I understand that this wild, crazy, radical faith thing often times doesn’t make sense here in this world.  I get it, for I too live and am currently confined to the same physical limitations.

Still, my dear Timothy, may I share a little secret with you?  You weren’t actually built for this world.  You were built for somewhere else and for something more.  You were built for Someone, and that Someone loves you far beyond that which you could ever know or understand.  That Someone cares deeply for the murmurings within the darkest parts of your soul as well as the raging battle at hand that you think he purposefully cursed you with.

Oh, my child, if only you knew how much I also care for you and desire that you would experience the truest and fullest of life!  If only you would trust me on this one, not because I know everything, because I don’t, and not because I am better than you, because I am not.  Rather, I wish that you would trust me because I am better than me.  And with Jesus, you too are better than you, better than who you were and who everyone else expects you to be.

Now I am not one to judge.  You know my heart, and you know that I don’t.  I am, however, called to love.  Therefore, it is on love that I stand and speak up with as every other “friend” encourages you to wade with them a bit longer and a bit deeper down the sewage systems of this life.  Point being, Timothy, I am not writing to condemn what you want nor is this to scold you and say that this is bad and that is wrong.

Rather, I want to challenge you.  I dare you to dream, to imagine a bigger and fuller life, to ask for more than you thought possible, and to expect to be met and matched and outdone by our good God.  For to echo C.S. Lewis, “It would seem that our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak.  We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea.  We are far too easily pleased.”

All that said, I know a lot of things don’t make sense right now.  Nevertheless, fight for that spark you felt two years ago on that Sunday morning and fan it into flame.  Fight, Timothy.  Believe.  Dream.  Ask.  Persist.  Put down your mud pie and walk with me, work with me, and watch what will happen.  There is much to be done before our all-expense-paid holiday at the sea.

May God’s grace be with you,

Paul.