Reflecting on MLK Day: James Baldwin & Last Year’s Insurrection

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This Martin Luther King Day, I am reflecting on Dr. King’s legacy while still wondering about the mob attack on the Capitol last year. The mob, led by a demagogue, carried to the symbolic heart of our democracy the fire of America’s unaddressed spiritual crisis. The joint tensions of race, class, and social change fueled the rage of these angry white men. The work of James Baldwin, Dr. Martin Luther King’s contemporary, can shed insight on the rage of the mob. Baldwin’s The Fire Next Time diagnoses our current predicament with the juxtaposition of history, myth, and an understanding of our personal American psyche.


James Baldwin & Dr. Martin Luther King:
They Did Not Always See Eye to Eye

Though first published in 1964, Baldwin’s The Fire Next Time can shed light on the psycho-spiritual issues in America today.  Baldwin’s work provides insight into how contemporary race relations grow from the country’s history and how this history has tainted our social relations. While Baldwin is searing in his criticism for America, he also has an unshakable hope for the country.  His optimism is rooted in our capacity for spiritual growth. Baldwin suggests that the black & white souls of America must work together to resolve our racist pollution.  The way out of our mess requires confronting the same venom that led to the Capitol mob on January 6, 2021.  We must face our past injustices, our current inequality, and our national psyche.

An Unmitigated Disaster

In early January 2021, I was re-reading The Fire Next Time when I saw that Baldwin’s language could speak directly to the attempted coup of January 6, 2021:

“…the political institutions of any nation are always menaced and are ultimately controlled by the spiritual state of that nation.  We are controlled here by our confusion, far more than we know, and the American dream has therefore become something much more closely resembling a nightmare, on the private, domestic, and international levels.  Privately, we cannot stand our lives and dare not examine them; domestically, we take no responsibility for (and no pride in) what goes on in our country; and, internationally, for many millions of people, we are an unmitigated disaster” (emphasis added).

The tarnished American dream, seen on private, domestic, and international levels, grows from our unconfronted past.  Baldwin points to America’s early history as the origin of our crisis.  The American experiment began on lands taken by force and then cultivated by slave labor.  This violation of humanity and land speaks to America’s imperialist roots.  We have used stories of chivalry and the white man’s burden to appease the victors’ conscience.  We have scrubbed away our guilt in the washed-out versions of American history in high-school textbooks. Irrespective of the justifications provided, this pillaging of land and humans requires a blatant disregard for indigenous cultures, ways of life, and belief systems. For the sake of profit, an entire empire was built. The profiteering at the onset of our country set the pace for our current breakdown.

Our Injustices

              In the book’s first essay, Baldwin addresses his nephew: “You were born into a society which spelled out with brutal clarity, and in as many ways as possible, that you were a worthless human being.  You were expected to make peace with mediocrity.” In America, without a doubt, the cards are stacked against blacks. Housing is the clearest example of America’s inequalities. Many abroad wonder why the world’s most prosperous country has so many slums and ghettos.  A fascinating video based on the book, The Color of Law, by Richard Rothstein points at how the federal government has helped create the defacto housing segregation we see now.  Our various other inequalities illustrate a pattern of systemic injustice.

             Baldwin shows with heart-breaking tenderness the spiritual consequences of racial prejudice.  Baldwin writes, “One did not have to be abnormally sensitive to be worn down to a cutting edge by the incessant and gratuitous humiliation and danger one encountered every working day, all day long.” A life of indignity compounds the difficulties of an adult trying to earn a living to support his family.  A poignant example is the helplessness a black parent feels when they cannot prepare their child for the cruelty of the outside world.  There can be no compelling explanation for why police might beat up a 7-year-old child or why that child may be called `boy` well into his adulthood. The psychological effect of this implicit oppression cuts deep.

              Baldwin’s insight parallels the lessons from Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. Without a sense of security in life’s necessities, individuals cannot rise to their full potential.  Before arriving at self-actualization, we need a sense of psychological safety and reliable daily bread. The injustices of police brutality, social prejudice, and overt hatred gnaw away at the very peace of mind required to truly blossom. While there are outstanding examples of individuals rising above their circumstances, for many the path to flourishing is obscured. In this way, Baldwin carries forward an extended metaphor. Imagine when an entire community is subject to the whims of white supremacy.  Indeed, imagination is not required; we see examples of the wreckage every day. American society does not provide her black citizens the psychic space to self-actualize. Many blacks worked through the toughest odds to self-actualize in a meaningful way. Nonetheless,  for generations, the nation has used its collective energy to suppress the full humanity of its people.  This loss is magnified in America on a much larger scale, from the individual to our dominant culture.  

A Difficult Identity

For Baldwin, the social identity of whites in America is dangerously linked to the subjugation of others. He writes that American mythology places the white man at the top of the social hierarchy. In our status-anxious society, whiteness is a mark of higher social standing. In this world, color represents stability, success, and predictability. Any move, then, towards equality is threatening to those at the top.

A groundswell of new activism suggests that the social order is changing. The mob on January 6 represents an angry reaction to shifts in our race relations.  The first psychological response to that threat is existential fear. In turn, those benefiting from the status quo are awash in fear and insecurity about the new world. Our national non-response to the mob of January 6 suggests our difficulty awakening to a more egalitarian world. The country’s lackadaisical response to the insurrection reflects the calloused soul at the heart of our institutions.  Our spiritual crisis will be unresolved while a contingent of America is uncomfortable with being social equals with a black man.  

Baldwin demands, “We, the black and white, deeply need each other here if we are really to become a nation.” We must go beyond our reason and logic. We must address one another through brotherhood.  We have that capacity within us.  The angry mob of January 6, 2021 was pointing to our problem.  Can we look within ourselves to expand our idea of America?   Baldwin writes, “It demands great spiritual resilience not to hate the hater whose foot is on your neck, and an even greater miracle of perception and charity to teach your child not to hate.” This depth of psychological understanding, emotional intelligence, and generosity of heart is just the start.  Baldwin’s solution and power come from reaching for our shared humanity.  It is necessary.  Can we hold a vision of a more just and equal America? This wealthy nation has a whole group wanting to see a better version of the country. Where could we all be if we saw race as fiction?  Who has it in their heart to hold such hope? Imagine what we could be if we shook out the fear in our insides and turned that energy into helping one another confront the struggles of life.  Ultimately, Baldwin’s insights are the starting place to see America in the context of history. It is within ourselves that we must ask the hard questions about our prejudice, injustice, and inequalities. The mob last year was seeking out a better America. Through great courage, we can work on that together.

Letter to A Struggling Spirit

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I am writing this letter to my cousin. Her mother died in January 2021. Her sister went into a coma in April. And now she herself has been admitted to the hospital for COVID complications. I am sharing here because I think many other people may be suffering in Spirit.

To my cousin, my favorite, Shelina,
I have tried many times to write you this letter. And have failed at least three other
times. Today, I am compelled to share here my heart with you.
Early on in our lives, I sensed a feeling of kindred Spirit with you. We both like nature.
We enjoyed smelling flowers together, and we photographed beautiful vistas on family
adventures. Remember the volcano and then the beach in Costa Rica? Occasionally,
we both overate good desi food, like those indulgent chai times with samosas and
jugu cake. We shared the giggles when my Dad, your uncle, got grumpy about my use
of ‘bad’ words. We shared skeptical glances when someone dared to tell us “No.” Since
then, I have known that you and I can play in the realm of Spirit. We share a “joie de
vivre,” what the French call the joy of living.

A beach time


Now, you are in the hospital. You have more ailments than I could name or understand.
I only know that you and I share the Hassanali blood. Our propensity for stubbornness,
determination, and appetite have genetic roots in an ancestor neither one of us knew.
Perhaps there is also some tinge of past trauma that lives on in that blood. This trauma,
at times, trickles into our lives with dark symptoms when our Spirit has grown dull.
I know that your whole life has been difficult. You grew up without a father. Through
determination and bravery, you have worked for so long to support your mother and
sister. The last few months have been even harder.


Suddenly losing your Mom was devastating for you. It was tough because you
called the ambulance for her, and then you could not see her as she left this
earthly place. The pandemic has created many problems. And for you, this twist has
kept you from your mother in her last moments. All of this is so incredibly painful to see
and know, even from so far.


Losing Gulibai is still harder as you have been trying for so long to find a way to live
your own life. Now, you feel guilt and depression for wanting to make your own life. I
know, now, that the situation has only gotten worse. Rifat, your sister, my cousin, has
fallen into a coma. The earth has been shaking this past year. And now it seems that
the sky has fallen in.


As you lie in bed today, I want to write to you and remind you that your body is not your
cage. Your truth goes beyond what the doctors say you are suffering; you are more than the names of diseases, diagnoses, and speculations.


You are not limited by your body. Nor are you even limited by the Narrative of your life.
What do I mean by that? You have done so much for other women, for your sister, and
for your mother. But, the story of your struggles does not have to be your only story. All of
this past has been full of difficulty. I know myself. I have watched you struggle from afar. I, too, know this struggle from life. But, I also know more about you. I have seen when your tenacity and Spirit shine through your life situation with my own eyes.


Your caring heart and creative imagination gave you the courage to run as a green
party candidate in oil-slick Alberta! Your union work helped support other social
workers. Your zest for life took you on adventures in Bali, Mexico, Tanzania, Turkey,
among many others.


Our few days in Portugal still fill me with joy. The memories of the tram ride to the beach near Porto, seeing underground cellars full of wine, and our silly photoshoots are fresh in my mind.

In none of these moments did your body nor your story hold you back. All that trauma
going on in you, around you, that is part of you. But, only a part. I hope a smaller and
smaller part slowly. We can cast off the darkness carried on in our ancestry. We are
more than that trauma. I know you have this in you; I have seen the spirit shine in you.
I see inside of you that Spirit. That part of you that cackles with joy. Your capacity to see
beauty in nature, to laugh at absurd jokes, and to find serenity in the third-world
landscapes you have enjoyed.

Your hospital room, with doctors and nurses buzzing about, is all focused on your
illness. They may make it difficult to see that Spirit; it may be a bit blurry. Yet, with all of this
drama going on, and your body weighing you down, that Spirit is still in there. It is there
waiting to soar again.


That Spirit inside of you that wants to live its own truth. It wants you to remember those
moments of bravery and those indulgences of joy. My hope for you is that you will put
that Spirit first. I wish it would lead you and your body from your sickbed. I will be here
waiting to meet that Spirit again.


With Love,
Your Sister in Spirit and Cousin in Life,
Sabrina

  • Fans of James Baldwin will recognize his style from “My Dungeon Shook.”