Why Prayer is Important

Last night as I was walking to my apartment from the bus stop a man called out to me trying to get my attention. I ignored him and pretended to listen to my headphones. I walked a little faster and from my peripheral I could see that he began to walk faster as well. I walked even faster and now he was more close. There was a woman walking toward me and she was going into the same apartment building I live in. I called out to her and began a conversation (pretending to know her). I hurried and opened the door for her and went in after her, and the man who was following me kept walking and turned into our parking lot. As I opened the door I could see that he stopped and was still looking at me, so I ran inside my apartment and locked the door.

Yesterday morning I woke up, used the bathroom, and got on my knees to pray. For some reason I kept thanking God for protecting me in my car, in my home, around campus, etc. I didn't know why, but I felt like I needed to keep praying for protection, and I'm so glad I did. I do not know if that man had planned to do me harm, if he was just trying to flirt, or what the situation could have turned into. All I know is that I'd never felt scared like that before (yes, even though I'm from Detroit, I NEVER felt scared like that before).

I want to encourage you today to pray. Don't just throw God a simple, "thank you Jesus for waking me up this morning." He deserves much more than that. We must stay prayerful because we're living in the last days. The enemy is out to steal, kill, and destroy all that God has planned.

I know your schedule is busy and there are tons of "things" competing for your time, but would it be worth it to you to take a good 15-20 minutes per day for some solid, focused prayer?

Yes, it would.

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When I learned It Didn’t Matter

Before I began to explore my racial/cultural/ethnic identity I had to look up the definition of ethnicity. Are you surprised? Don’t be. There are plenty of nouns we use daily without understanding their definitions.

eth·nic·i·ty: The fact or state of belonging to a social group that has a common national or cultural tradition.

eth·nic·i·ty: A group of people whose members identify with each other, through a common heritage, consisting of a common language, a common culture (often including a shared religion) and a tradition of common ancestry (corresponding to a history of endogamy).

How I’ve come to understand, internalize, represent, and extend my racial/cultural/ethnic identity can be summed up in the following scriptural passages. You will find the King James Version (KJV) as well as the Amplified Version (AMP) which provides more clarity if you don’t enjoy reading old English.

Galatians 3: 23-29 (KJV)

“But before faith came, we were kept under the law, shut up unto the faith which should afterwards be revealed. Wherefore the law was our schoolmaster to bring us unto Christ, that we might be justified by faith. But after that faith is come, we are no longer under a schoolmaster. For ye are all the children of God by faith in Christ Jesus. For as many of you as have been baptized into Christ have put on Christ. There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus. And if ye be Christ's, then are ye Abraham's seed, and heirs according to the promise.”

Galatians 3: 23-29 (AMP)

“Now before the faith came, we were perpetually guarded under the Law, kept in custody in preparation for the faith that was destined to be revealed (unveiled, disclosed), So that the Law served [to us Jews] as our trainer [our guardian, our guide to Christ, to lead us] until Christ [came], that we might be justified (declared righteous, put in right standing with God) by and through faith. But now that the faith has come, we are no longer under a trainer (the guardian of our childhood). For in Christ Jesus you are all sons of God through faith. For as many [of you] as were baptized into Christ [into a spiritual union and communion with Christ, the Anointed One, the Messiah] have put on (clothed yourselves with) Christ. There is [now no distinction] neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is not male and female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus. And if you belong to Christ [are in Him Who is Abraham's Seed], then you are Abraham's offspring and [spiritual] heirs according to promise.”

Who am I? I am a child of God. It does not matter that I was born in the city of Detroit in a neighborhood filled with drugs, guns, and crime. It does not matter that I went to a predominantly white institution and earned B.S. and M.S. degrees in Mechanical Engineering. It does not matter that I’ve visited Canada, Mexico, China, Chile, Argentina, Spain, Denmark, England, Sweden, South Africa, Ghana, and the Dominican Republic. All that matters to me is that I am one in Christ Jesus, and because of that, I am an heiress!

Critical race theorists assert that racism is the natural order of American life (Ladson-Billings and Tate, 1995). Really? What is racism?

rac·ism: The belief that all members of each race possess characteristics or abilities specific to that race, esp. so as to distinguish it as inferior or superior to another race or races

rac·ism: Prejudice or discrimination directed against someone of a different race based on such a belief.

Was my middle school friend who told me I couldn’t date White boys racist? Was the girl who asked me if I had to wash my hair racist? Was the boy who told me about Asians vs. “normal white” people racist? Was the Chinese couple who asked to take a picture with me racist?

I wonder if these people ever read Galatians chapter 3.

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When I Learned I Wasn't Chinese

It was hard for me to blend in when I was in China. I am a 5’8” Black girl with locs. At the time I wore my hair in what we call “kinky twists”. I visited many places in China including the Great Wall and Tianenmen Square. When I plan to visit other countries I try to read about the country so that I don’t say or do anything stupid or offensive, but nothing could prepare me for being asked my native Chinese people to take a picture with them because they’ve never seen a Black person.

One lady could not stop rubbing my face. She said my skin was so pretty and she wished that she had skin like mines. Really? I always get frustrated, especially in the summer, because I start to tan and I don’t like getting “too Black.” What is “too Black”? 

I was a star in China. Someone even thought I was Beyonce. Come on now, Beyonce? I started to play along, but I was afraid of what might happen. 

I could learn all the Mandarin Chinese I wanted, but nothing I could do would change the fact that I was tall and Black. Fat, too. I tried buying a dress and the woman said to me, “TOO BIG, TOO BIG!” In China, I wear a 5X.

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When I Learned I Was Dominican

I went to the Dominican Republic a couple of years ago (twice actually—I sort of fell in love with this country). They did not believe I was from the United States. “Dominicana?” they asked? “No, Americana” I asserted. I learned enough Spanish to get around, and I already knew how to salsa dance and bachata. That’s why they were confused: “You dance like a Dominican!”

I did not expect to see so many people who looked like me in the Dominican Republic. I should’ve assumed as much since it’s in the Caribbean, but it never crossed my mind. It made me wonder though. Do Dominicans have the same struggles with race that we do? Are the Dominicans with fair skin more privileged than those with dark skin? 

How is the education system in this country? I visited a small village where a junior chapter of the National Society of Black Engineers (NSBE) was run by a Peace Corps volunteer. He told me that some days the teacher just didn’t show up. Thoughts of college never enter these children’s minds. Most will work in tourism serving “visitors” like me who come to their beautiful country, enjoy the festivities, and spend a few dollars and leave. 

Are Dominicans Black? I was having a conversation with one of the vendors at my hotel and I spoke of myself as being Black. He was confused. So am I.

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When I Learned I Was Ghanaian

I went to Ghana in 2001. It was my senior year of high school and the concert choir I was a member of went to perform at various places. I had the time of my life. We stayed in the most amazing hotels, ate amazing food, and saw amazing places such as the castles in Cape Coast and the National Theater.

I could not believe I was in Africa! We were on the bus and we stopped to exchange our currency. As I got off the bus a gentleman stopped me and said, “Welcome home sistah.” Tears instantly swelled up in my eyes. He began to ask me when I was born. I told him February 8^th. He told me my Ghanaian name is Abena (because I was born on a Tuesday). I looked it up and I cannot BELIEVE its meaning!

Tuesday's child is the problem solver and planner of the family. They are structured in nature, neutral in all matters and never take sides.

That definition describes me too well! I thought I was a planner and enjoyed structure because I am an engineer. Could this be who I am from birth?  

If I traced my roots would my genesis be Ghana? I am often asked about my heritage, and honestly, not knowing hurts. I sat with a group of students of European descent as they discussed their Scandinavian heritage, German heritage, etc. One asked, “Where are you originally from, Kari.” I’m not sure…

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When I learned I Was Different

We were riding in a 10 passenger van on our way to visit some of the monuments in DC. I was excited about this trip. I enjoy trips when I am able to have fun and learn something new. A few of the girls were discussing how disgusting the girls shower in the “hostel” we were staying was. There were piles of hair on the floor of the shower. It was quite nasty. One girl looked at me and said, “Do you have to wash your hair?” Her question shocked me. I didn’t know what to say. She continued, “I don’t think it’s fair that you have to see our hair in piles on the floor when you don’t have to wash yours.” That’s when I learned I was different.

On the same trip we were sitting on park benches at the National Mall in DC eating our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. A couple walked by: a White man, Asian woman, and their child. A (White) guy from my group said to me, “Have you ever noticed that when an Asian person marries a normal person, you know, a normal White person that the baby always comes out looking Asian?” What is a normal White person? Are Asian people abnormal? I’m confused… 

I told my older sister this story. She told me, "You should've said it's not your fault that White people don't have dominant genes!" Now, is that a productive comment?

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When I Learned I Couldn’t Date White Boys

I attended Area E Academy of Fine & Performing Arts for middle school. There I participated in dance, drama, and band. I also played the violin. Those years were honestly some of the greatest years of my life. When I reflect on my time at Area E I can’t help but laugh. I really thought I was grown! The school was an elementary and middle school (K-8), and the elementary kids called me “momma.” I laugh when I think about my “boyfriends”. How did I think I really had a boyfriend in middle school? We couldn’t talk on the phone or go out, so how did we date? We ate together in the lunch room and wrote each other love letters.

His name was Shawn Cole. He was the whitest White boy I’d ever met, but I called him a reverse Oreo (Black on the inside, White on the outside) because he talked, walked, and behaved “like a Black person”. He even lived in “the hood” just like me. Yeah, Shawn was Black.

I liked Shawn because he had nice teeth. He had this cute little haircut, too; the sides and back of his head were shaved bald, but the top was long. Sometimes he’d wear the top part in a ponytail. I loved when he did that! 

Shawn was my “boo”. I liked him so much. I used to make two lunches so I could bring one to him. We would ride our bikes all over the neighborhood together. The only thing that bothered me about Shawn was that he was…SHORT! I was one of the tallest girls in school (they called me “Big Bird”). The top of Shawn’s head came to the bottom of my chin. I always had to bend down in our pictures!

Yes, Shawn was short, but that was the only thing that bothered me about him. My friends were bothered by something else, however: he was…WHITE! “Kari, you are Black and he is White, you cannot be boyfriend and girlfriend.” One of my friends patiently explained that to me one day after school. Why? She never gave me a reason. I still don’t know.

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