Meet the Bogey Man

June 1, 2020. President Trump may be uniquely bad at bringing a wounded, divided country together. Throughout six consecutive days of unrest in cities across the country — triggered by the death of George Floyd, an unarmed black man, in the custody a Minneapolis police officer who knelt on Floyd’s neck for nearly nine minutes — Trump pledged military retribution on protesters engaged in unlawful acts, dismissed their outrage as the work of leftist troublemakers, and said nothing of reports of heavy-handed police actions during the demonstrations. And all this comes at a time when Americans are reeling from an epochal economic collapse and the toll of the coronavirus pandemic. – Ishaan Tharoor and Ruby Mellen, Today’s World View, Washington Post.

“No human race is superior. No religious faith is inferior. All collective judgments are wrong. Only racists make them.” – Eliezer Wiesel.

Elie Wiesel, a Holocaust survivor and social commentator, explains with uncomfortable precision how we got to this point.

All of these hateful events are fueled by the collective judgments all of us make about one another. It doesn’t take a lot of imagination to figure out where we learned to hate or distrust any person who does not look like us, “the other.”

Collective judgments arose the first time a band of Neanderthals attacked a Cro Magnon encampment and ran off with the gourds. From that time on, images of boney-browed, beady-eyed, slack-jawed bad men were cited by Cro Magnon mothers to keep the kids from escaping the cave. The Boogey Man was born.

The Boogey Man – not always male because children in many cultures recoil from female phantasms – represents persons from any group we don’t like, trust or understand. This Boogey Person varies from culture to culture, depending on the particular brand of xenophobia the culture covets. For my Cuban father-in-law, he was “El Italiano.”

The Boogey Man is thousands of years old and was usually a member of an enemy camp or nation. Many historians trace the Boogey Man to Napoleon Bonaparte, whose army periodically threatened British shores. Known as “Boney” by the wary Brits, he was the scariest specter English mothers could conjure when they warned their children to stay close to the house. By the time Napoleon was exiled on Saint Helena Island in 1815, he was more commonly styled the Boogey Man. There is a story that when the British caretakers on the island told their children that they were there to guard the Boogey Man, Napoleon was amused. According to some reports, he would place his index fingers on his head like horns and give chase to children as they ran giggling and screaming.

The Boogey Man is emblematic of the distrust and fear we have for people who are not like us. If we are honest with ourselves, the Boogey Man is lodged firmly in our genes. Those of us who think we’re free of him are in denial.

It is the Boogey Man that persuades depraved white men to launch a xenophobic war against persons of color. It is the Boogey Man that blinds cops to the humanity or persons of color and prompts them to shoot first and ask questions later. It is the Boogey Man that blinds persons of color to the humanity of cops and imagines them as fascist goons.

In our culture today, the Boogey Man is racism, the collective judgment we make against persons who are different from us.

Racism persists in our culture like an infection and many who have the most virulent strain don’t even know they are sick. Before we were quarantined in our homes, in a million offices, schools, churches, and police stations, white folks made stupidly racist remarks based on stupidly racist assumptions about persons of color. They reacted to persons of color differently and treated persons of color differently – and, when challenged about it, they were stunned and hurt because – as they will tell you – “I don’t have a racist bone in my body.” None of this will change when the COVID-19 virus is gone and we can resume gathering.

But even before the toxic age of Trump, racism flourished and each day the majority finds a new way to make the minority feel marginalized. One of my daughter, who is racially mixed (as are my five other children), reacted this way a few years ago when President Obama tried to reconcile a cop who arrested a black university professor on his own porch because the cop assumed he was an intruder. Obama invited the cop and the professor to the White House for a beer. My daughter wrote in her Facebook update: “Elita wishes she could have a beer with the president every time she gets racially profiled.”

There were only a handful of African Americans in Madison County N.Y. where I grew up. Some of these persons of color may have been descended from slaves who settled in Peterboro, an outpost of the Underground Railroad operated by the abolitionist Gerrit Smith. Looking back, I am appalled by memories of how the white majority – including me – treated them. Black children were taunted with the ‘N’ word on the playground, or slapped by white teachers in school, and – in one memorable incident – subjected to an incredibly obtuse but well meaning teacher who used the ‘N’ word in a rhyme to select the next person to read from a text book: “eeney, meeney, miney mo …”

I can’t begin to imagine how uncomfortable we made children of color back then. And most of us oppressors would have insisted that we didn’t have a racist bone in our bodies.

I haven’t seen Tony Campolo for years, but judging from his press pictures, he’s the least changed of my Eastern Baptist College professors from the sixties. Tony was known for making startling claims with ex cathedra authority, which was challenging in the day when you couldn’t vet his claims through Google, and he tried out some of his more famous lines on us: “Last night when you were sleeping, 30,000 kids went to bed hungry and you don’t give a shit about it. Worse, you’re more upset that I said shit than the fact that 30,000 kids are hungry.”

Once Tony said something, it was hard to forget it. Among the Tonyisms I remember: “If you grew up in the United States, you are a racist.” I first heard Tony say that in Soc 200 in 1968, and the notion surprised me.

But as the years pass, I find fewer reasons to doubt it. I’m a racist, you’re a racist, all God’s children who grew up in the race-obsessed cauldron of American culture are racist.

Now, that’s not necessarily a peculiar aberration. Racism is a sin, and we all know we are sinners who fall short of the glory of God. To deny our racism is to deny we are sinners.

The next time you hear someone say, “I’m color-blind,” or, “I don’t have a racist bone in my body,” smile ironically and walk away.

Of course, there are also people who are not ashamed of their racism and flaunt it on Twitter and Facebook. Certainly people in the U.S. (and elsewhere) who openly tweet their hatred of the other are to be feared. Particularly scary are those white folks who complain they have lost their freedom and status because a black man was twice elected president, and because that president declared a commitment to universal healthcare, economic justice, immigration reform, and gun control.

Back then (and the Obama years seem so long ago) nervous white folks had difficulty seeing that they hadn’t lost any freedoms on account of freedom being offered to persons they regarded as “others”. In fact, the more races, ages, ethnic groups, and sexual orientations that are empowered in the U.S. system, the more freedom everyone has.

Be that as it may, the violent white reaction to the Obama years was revealed in the election of 2016 when a minority of voters replaced Obama with the obtuse white businessman who promised, amid his racist vitriol, to make America great again Now people of his ignorant ilk are tweeting their racism openly, and on too may occasions backing it up with guns.

The big problem is these people don’t believe they are racists.

That problem group may include you, me, Fox News, Trump, Sean Hannity, Rush Limbaugh, Al Sharpton, or anyone else who supposes themselves to have a dispensation from the sin of racism.

But racism is the Boogey Man that haunts us all. He is the great Satan who lives in every heart, and forces us to cringe in the presence of others we don’t understand or don’t like.

This reality was understood by spiritual savants and mystics since the beginning of time. That is why Hillel, Buddha, Mohammed, Jesus, and others urged us to open our minds and hearts and treat everyone the way we would want to be treated. Because we naturally distrust our neighbor, the Creator added a non-negotiable caveat to our existence: Love Thy Neighbor. Loving our neighbors and loving our enemies is the only defense against the Boogey Man.

Repeating the gospel of Campolo: “You can’t grow up in the United States without being a racist.”

But there is no defense against the Boogey Man if we keep looking for him in the camps of persons we neither like nor trust. The Boogey Man is far closer and far more dangerous than that.

When we examine our own hearts, the unpleasant reality becomes all too clear.
We have met the Boogey Man. And he is us.

About Philip E Jenks

Philip, a synodical deacon in the ELCA Metropolitan New York synod, is a retired communicator for American Baptist Churches USA, the U.S. Conference for the World Council of Churches, the U.S. National Council of Churches, and two Philadelphia area daily newspapers. He and his spouse, the Rev. Dr. Martha M. Cruz, are the parents of six adults and are members of St. Paul's Evangelical Lutheran Church in Rye Brook, N.Y. They live in Port Chester, N.Y.
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