Newspaper Columns by Bishop Paul V. Marshall
The Last of the "Good Negroes"
Bishop Paul V. Marshall
February 2004As a child in the 1950s, I was regularly assured by my pastor and school teachers not to be too worried about the Civil Rights movement: "Remember, there are still a lot of good Negroes." In the all-white Smoketown Elementary School outside of Lancaster, this theme was repeated often enough that, as an adult, I recognize that we kids were not the ones the teacher was trying to reassure.
"Good Negroes," of course, meant African-American people who did not demand equal justice and who acted, sounded, and looked like their cultural values were those of the European-American majority. They were "Good Negroes" if they did not want to be people in their own right, if they did not threaten the notion that white is best. They were good because they stayed in the invisible place the majority, northern as well as southern, assigned them.
In February, when America tries to strengthen its memory of the struggles and contributions of those of African descent, I am thankful that there were in the long run so few of the "Good Negroes" my pastor and teachers hoped for.
All Americans are richer because resistance to oppression continued and grew. All Americans are richer because we are aware of the contributions of African-Americans to our culture. All Americans are richer because the entire society receives the gifts of men and women who became able to contribute their gifts and talents to our work force and national life.
Someday, perhaps, Americans will see what the Civil Rights movement began come to fulfillment. It is not clear to me that the struggle against racism gets the attention in media, the work-place, and religious institutions that it once did. I find that when I mention it in sermons there is barely a look of recognition on most faces - as though, yes, they heard about that once.
My concern this February is the ghost of the "Good Negro." It was never put to rest.
It arose when the Women's Movement began to touch the churches. Some people, who were prepared to put up with women clergy if they had to, drew the line at hearing the particular insights of women presented as if they had something unique to contribute to religious understanding. (They did have, of course.)
People found themselves saying what Henry Higgins said in My Fair Lady: "Why can't a woman be more like a man?" A "good" woman priest was to act like a man, preach like a man, and certainly not pretend that she brought anything new to our common experience. It was all chillingly familiar.
This short column cannot explore all of the issues that arise in religious groups over questions about gay and lesbian persons. As I participate in discussions of the issues, I hear one thing that takes me back to 1956 in Smoketown.
People will actually say they "don't mind" if gay and lesbian persons come to church and sit in the pews, but they are offended that they would "rub our faces in it."
When I ask what that means, what comes is that it is offensive when "they" want their identity, values, and relationship recognized like anyone else's. Even more troubling for some people is the idea that gay or lesbian people might have gained from their experience of God religious insights to share with the majority of those in the pews.
There is little these thoughts have to say to those who do not recognize members of other races, members of the opposite sex, or gay and lesbian persons as people of worth. For the rest of us, however, Black History Month is a good time to ask if we really believe that God's spirit fills the whole world, and if those whose experience is very different from ours do not really have a great deal to give us - once they stop being good?Return to the index of Bishop Paul's columns for the secular press
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