Blinders | A Reflection on Race, Culture & Pain

In 1976 I went on a church-sponsored study tour to learn about apartheid in South Africa. Young and naïve, I had barely heard the word “apartheid” before boarding the bus that took us from our small towns in Iowa to Washington D.C. and New York City, where we met with members of congress and U.N. officials. One of our fellow students was a young white woman who—amazingly—was a South African foreign exchange student. I have often wondered what happened to her, because clearly our experiences on this trip affected her deeply.

When we were shown the film “Last Grave at Dimbaza”, which depicted the horrible living conditions of black South Africans, Eve fled the room in tears. On a field trip to a Washington D.C. soup kitchen, she wept openly while chopping vegetables. She had sought refuge in the kitchen when the experience of serving meals to homeless, mostly black folks became too much for her. Of the ugly history and realities of apartheid, she kept saying, “I didn’t know, I didn’t know!” I was sympathetic, but also remember thinking, “She’s from South Africa—how could she not know?”

Now, years later, as I read the news and learn directly from African American clients about the ugly realities of racism in this country, I keep finding out how much I don’t know. I am asking myself the same question I once asked about Eve: “How come I didn’t know this?”

This world is full of so many kinds of pain, and it seems that we all have ways of not knowing. We can be blind to cultural systems of oppression and injustice and blind to our own prejudices. We can avoid seeing abuse and neglect, even when it’s happening in our own homes. We may disregard another’s pain without even realizing it. We often disregard our own.

We need courage to take the blinders off and really see pain, whether it’s the pain of the world, that of a friend, neighbor or stranger, or the pain in my own hearts. But when we do see pain clearly, powerful healing begins to take place: our hearts spontaneously soften and open. Making room for pain makes room for wholeness, connection and the possibility for real change.

Written by Elena Walker, MA, LPCC

Photo Source: gratisography.com