The issue has just been published. Our article is titled Making Peace with the Past.

This is our first published piece. More to come. We hope readers will enjoy it, be moved by it, and will share it with your friends.

I can’t measure the the impact of this, or fully wrap my head around it. This will take time (and more information) to assess the impact, but I’m initially struck by two points in particular here. First, I’m sorry to see such a big cut to POV, the program that sponsored Traces of the Trade on PBS.

Second, Alyce Myatt, a friend of mine who is the endowment’s media arts director, said that while public television and radio remain “the leads, we also know we have a generation — not of kids but adults — who are consuming content online and on mobile.” This is definitely true for me and many people I know.

It is fascinating to read that the endowment made “78 grants, up from 64 in 2011, totaling $3.55 million, down from $4 million last year. Eligible applications more than doubled to 329, Ms. Myatt said.”

“There are limited resources, so the resources are parsed out as best as can be. This is not anything against any particular program, any particular network or anything.”

Technological advances continue to change the world in profound ways. The impacts will be felt by all of us, including to programs near and dear to our hearts.

I look forward to hearing, and learning, more.

I cannot stop thinking about all of the Whites, who have been murdered by blacks, because they were in the wrong place at a certain time, or because they refused to give the blacks what they wanted, or just because they were White.

This week, Sinead O`Connor made a statement regarding the Trayvon/Zimmerman affair. She wrote:

“For those out there who believe black people to be less than pure royalty…”

“When you dishonor the the utter glory and majesty of black people, you lie.”

Here is a small, incomplete list of White people who have been exposed to the royalty and majesty of the negro: “Black-on-White Crime.”

It is a tragedy when anyone is murdered, but let’s be clear. There is no comparison here. Black people murdering white people is statistically rare. Black people murdering white people because of race is almost unheard of. Yet this type of ill-informed and misplaced paranoia may well have contributed to George Zimmerman’s pursuit and killing of an innocent, unarmed black youth half his own size. According to the Miami Herald, neighbors in his gated community claim Zimmerman has been fixated on crime and “focused on young, black males.”

Additionally, throughout U.S. history, the consequences for white-on-black crime have been, and continue to be, vastly different than for black-on-white crime. Among the plethora of sources of clear and conclusive evidence, Michelle Alexander’s broadly-researched, and well-documented book, The New Jim Crow presents a clear look at just how different the consequences are for black and white people in the criminal justice system today.

If a young black man had been walking around his neighborhood with a gun, encountered a white man, and said he felt threatened and shot him to death, he would be in jail; yes, even in Florida with the “Stand Your Ground” law in place. Throughout history, black-on-white crime has generally been investigated and prosecuted far more vigorously than has white-on-black crime.

Yet, I will not be surprised when George Zimmerman is arrested one day soon. I fully expect him to be prosecuted. But I also believe it will be as a result of the ongoing public outcry in this case. If Trayvon Martin’s death had not made the national radar screen, had not gone viral through Facebook and Twitter, the initial decision to not arrest or investigate Mr. Zimmerman would no doubt have been the final decision; which has so often been the case in similar situations that never make the national news.

Trayvon Martin was killed, in large part, because white male supremacy continues as the driving force in the United States of America. I encourage those who doubt my words to take the White Privilege Pop Quiz developed by Molly Secours. She posted it for anyone to share “with friends, family members and co-workers who are perhaps curious, doubtful or even insistent that such a thing as ‘white privilege’ doesn’t exist.”

I’ve participated in Coming to the Table since 2006 in order to understand and acknowledge more fully how the wounds inflicted by the historic system of American slavery (and the many forms of racism it spawned) continue to harm all of us today, and what I can do to help heal those wounds. The story of the ongoing healing journey will be published in October in Gather at the Table.

I hope the person who wrote the comment above will seriously ponder how he/she contributes either to further separation, alienation, and trauma, or to acknowledging the truth, and healing. As long as people rationalize racism, we will perpetrate the system of white supremacy that has haunted this country for centuries, and we will continue to not live up to our founding ideals of liberty, equality, and justice for all.

That is what we should not stop thinking about.

We cover a wide variety of subjects in addition to the writing process; all connected in some way to the subject of our book: healing from the present-day traumatic wounds inflicted through the legacy of slavery and racism. We’re excited for October 9 to arrive, and for the multi-state, multi-month book tour that will ensue. We hope to see many of you then!

An unarmed, 17-year old boy in Florida walks to the store one night for some junk food. He’s shot to death because of the color of his skin. Oh, I know that some of my friends and others will take issue with that statement, because “damn, Tom, you’re always talking about race – it isn’t always about race.”

It’s pretty much only white people who would make such a statement. Of course this is about race; that Trayvon Martin was a young, black male wearing a “hoodie” – and George Zimmerman claimed that he felt threatened so he shot him in the chest. Now Trayvon is dead and his parents grieve over their child’s untimely and unjustified death.

Many have written powerful and eloquent statements about this case. Tim Wise wrote about the Unacceptable Burden of Blackness in America and how this was no terrible accident; but murder – because Trayvon was black. Marian Wright Edelman wrote Walking While Black; about how black parents must prepare their children for situations like this the best they can. Mia McKenzie wrote White Silence; about how her white friends become silent when she raises any issues dealing with race. The most devastating letter I’ve read is by Ajani Husbands: The Bullet Next Time – An Open Letter to My Unborn, Black Son.

I hope my friends – particularly my white friends – will read these articles and rather than think about reasons not to focus on race, will instead focus completely on race. Because race matters more than almost every white person I know thinks it does.

The huge gulf in life experience between Trayvon’s parents and me is encapsulated in the articles noted above by Marian Wright Edelman and Ajani Husbands. My children aren’t black. I’ve never had to talk with them about how they need to walk, talk, and act so they won’t seem like a threat. My race benefits me, my children, and my grandchildren in this profoundly significant way.

I spent this past weekend in Richmond, Virginia at the National Gathering of Coming to the Table – a group of people committed to creating “a just and truthful society that acknowledges and seeks to heal from the racial wounds of the past—from slavery and the many forms of racism it spawned.”

Traveling home from this amazing weekend, half a dozen of us were on the same flight out of Richmond; me, one white woman, and four women of color. After making it through security (I was the first of our group; I’m always the first – always in a rush to get through security), I learned that one of the women of color had left her identification at the check-in counter. After retrieving it she returned to a much longer security line. The others were closer to making it through. Ann would be awhile…

I sat down on a bench in the screening area waiting for my friends. After several minutes, a TSA official asked me what I was doing. I told him and he walked away. Thirty minutes later, still waiting for Ann, I now stood with three women of color. Another TSA official approached and told us that due to security reasons we were not allowed to wait in the screening area. We needed to wait for our friend beyond the rope barrier.

Why was there no “security reason” when a white man sat alone in the screening area but suddenly there is such a reason when that white man is in the company of three women of color?

“Damn, Tom, you’re always talking about race – it isn’t always about race.”

Really?

I grieve today for Trayvon’s parents. My heart aches for their loss. As a father, there are few tragedies I can imagine that approach the severity of losing one’s child. I acknowledge that it can happen to anyone. But in my family, it won’t happen to my children because of the color of their skin.

This is the real tragedy of Trayvon Martin. This is the American Wound that remains unhealed.

Several years ago Bruce Springsteen caught a lot of grief for his song American Skin, written after the shooting death of Amadou Diallo in New York. Bruce played the song for the first time on his new tour just tonight in Tampa, Florida. As stated on Backstreets, “The performance was offered without comment, but it was patently obvious that the killing of Travyon Martin was the impetus for the song’s appearance, with this show the band’s only visit to Florida during the first leg of the tour.” Though Trayvon Martin was killed by a “wanna-be” and not a real police officer, the words of the song ring true once again.

Is it a gun?

Is it a knife?

Is it just skittles?

This is your life.

It ain’t no secret, no secret my friend. You get killed just for livin’ in your American Skin.

But only if you aren’t white.

(note: I inserted the word “Skittles” into the lyric excerpt in place of “a wallet” – which is what Diallo was carrying when he was killed)

Oh, puh-lease, Mr. Gingrich!

For those who haven’t heard the latest political kerfuffle, actor Robert DeNiro spoke at an Obama fundraiser at which Michelle Obama was the featured headliner. He led off with a joke…

Callista Gingrich. Karen Santorum. Ann Romney. Now do you really think our country is ready for a white first lady?

De Niro asked to cheers from the crowd.

Too soon, right?

Now that’s funny!

Newt Gingrich, always the model of decorum and respect, said that President Obama should be held accountable “when someone at his event says something as utterly and totally unacceptable as Robert De Niro said last night. And I call on the president to apologize for him.”

Coming from the man whose thinly-coded, race-baiting approach to campaigning (Obama is the best food stamp president in history; schools should hire underprivileged children to do janitorial work; not to mention his policy proposals that would disproportionately harm people of color), Gingrich’s umbrage at DeNiro’s joke brought a wry smile to my face.

He had the chutzpah to spout,

I do want to say one thing, both on behalf of my wife and on behalf of Karen Santorum and on behalf of Ann Romney, I think that Robert De Niro’s wrong. I think the country is ready for a new first lady and he doesn’t have to describe it in racial terms.

How absurd. Race infuses every aspect of the current election just as it did in 2008. Anyone who doesn’t see it either has their “race blinders” firmly in place, or else simply isn’t paying attention. It is apparent to me that Nixon’s “Southern Strategy” of  exploiting and exacerbating the separations among white and black voters is alive and well in 2012. We have a long way still to go in undoing the racism that continues to infect the political, corporate, education, justice, medical and any other system you can name in our “land of the free.”

What I found disappointing is that the Obama campaign fell for Gingrich’s silliness. Mrs. Obama’s press secretary said, “We believe the joke was inappropriate.”

As for DeNiro? He won’t comment. His publicist said, “It was obvious satire.”

No kidding.

The filmmaker’s goal is to make Joseph Kony notoriously famous in the hope that if his name becomes well enough known, international pressure will result in his capture. Kony is the leader of the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA). This Ugandan guerrilla group has forced tens of thousands of children to become armed warriors. Kony’s fighters have been accused of torture, rape, and massacre in northern Uganda, South Sudan, and elsewhere for the past quarter century.

When Sharon (my writing partner for Gather at the Table) and I took our first class together at Eastern Mennonite University in 2008, we encountered a woman from Uganda who was taking a different class than we were. Her children had been kidnapped by the LRA. One of her daughters went missing for years. She was repeatedly raped by her captors and gave birth to three children fathered by her captors before being released.

If something like this happened in the United States, of course, it would be huge national news in all the major media. Because these atrocities have taken place in a region of Central Africa, we don’t hear much about it. Invisible Children, through the effective use of social media, is changing that.

The organization behind this effort has its supporters and detractors. There are people expressing concern that the campaign is exploitative and ineffective, or else is effective, but spreading myths about the LRA and Northern Uganda, and wreaks of images of dis-empowered Ugandans and the return of the great white savior. They are accused of being bigoted and dangerous. Invisible Children has responded to many of the criticisms on their website, and on their tumblr. Jacob Acaye, who was abducted by the LRA as a child, and whose brother was murdered by them, also defends Invisible Children. Recommendations are being offered on alternatives to what form your action can take.

Two observations overwhelm everything else for me in connection with Kony 2012. First, we are now witnessing the enormous power of social networking. The rapid and successful spread of information regarding Arab Spring was  absolutely the result of social media. Occupy Wall Street took social networking even further. With the incredible spread of Kony 2012 through social networking, our world has indeed changed. No longer must one be in a position of traditional power to impact world events. Regular folks can harness the power of the devices we hold in our hands. We have more potential to create tremendous impact for good than ever before.

Second, I understand the skepticism and criticism being directed at Invisible Children. The complex issues about what is taking place in Uganda and the surrounding region are oversimplified in the 30-minute film. I cringe a bit when it feels like the filmmaker’s 5-year old son is featured more prominently than the children who are being so badly abused in Uganda. It is legitimate to be concerned that the video will inspire enthusiastic, yet ill-prepared people to take well-intentioned, yet dangerous or counterproductive steps to try and make a difference.

Adam Branch, Senior Research Fellow with the Makerere Institute of Social Research, in Kampala, Uganda, explains in this piece why “the Invisible Children organization and their videos have infuriated me to no end.”

Nicholas Kristof, a journalist I respect greatly, linked to Sarah Margon’s essay “A Partial Defense of Invisible Children’s Kony 2012 Campaign,” which takes a different position and concludes that  we should “harness this energy and turn it into something productive…”

My fervent hope is that in spite of the skeptics and detractors, Invisible Children’s goal will be reached. Joseph Kony and the LRA must be stopped. All people who believe in peace and justice surely agree on this.

And it is also more than Kony and the LRA that needs to be stopped. Ours is a world that needs to stop those causing grievous harm — and work toward healing and peace — in many places!

I also hope (as you can tell by the multitude of links I’ve included in this post) that in the midst of all the hoopla surrounding this video that more people will make the effort to learn more about this region, its people, and the complexity and magnitude of the challenges they face. Educating ourselves, and thinking before we take action, is always the best place to begin.

You can watch “Kony 2012″ here:

Pray the Devil Back to Hell is the award-winning documentary film about thousands of courageous Liberian women – moms, grandmothers, Muslims and Christians – who ended a civil war and brought peace to their traumatized country. At the center of the peace movement was Leymah Gbowee, single mother of four, poor, struggling, humble, and tired of the killing, the rapes, and the damaged children.

After watching the powerful film I checked her memoir out at our library: Mighty Be Our Powers: How Sisterhood, Prayer, and Sex Changed a Nation At War. This is a much more complete account of what is portrayed in the film with the added benefit of learning more about Leymah herself.

Ms. Gbowee lost countless friends and family members to the war. She was trapped in an abusive relationship with the father of her children. She was caught in a hopeless position; yet she turned that hopelessness into action. She helped to organize women into the Liberian Mass Action for Peace. She followed in the footsteps of Gandhi and King. She was moved by Gandhi’s words:

There may be tyrants and murderers, and for a time, they may seem invincible. But in the end, they always fail. Think of it: always.”

She marveled that God would call her to the work of peacebuilding. She was no Gandhi. She was considered a sinner by many fellow Christians because she gave birth to several children outside of marriage. She had an affair with a married man. She drank too much alcohol. Yet she persevered. She stood up to tyrants and murderers. She helped end a war.

What struck me most about the story of Leymah Gbowee is how much of a normal, every day kind of person she is and how forthcoming she is about her own human foibles and shortcomings. I’d have a hard time admitting in writing that my children counted the 14 glasses of wine I consumed one evening, how much time I spent away from them doing my work, and be so blunt in sharing other personal issues.

I know my children were angry at me. Later, when I asked if any of them wanted to grow up to be a peace-builder, Amber’s response was, ‘No. I want to stay home with my children.’

But if I ask, ‘Could I have done this differently?’ my answer is always no. I still don’t see what other options I had. I know many women who saw and went through a lot, with their children. Many of them didn’t make it. Either they succumbed to the misery of war violence or domestic violence and died, or they abandoned their children and ran. We stuck it out and survived.

Leymah Gbowee’s story is that of more than a survivor. Hers is the story of leadership in the face of unimaginable obstacles on virtually every level. It is inspiring and deeply thought-provoking. What matters in this world? What role is mine to play in stopping violence and terror; in building peace? Gbowee’s story – through both the film and her book – is remarkable. It will inspire all who dream of a better world. Hopefully it will also encourage and empower many to take action against injustice; to be peace-builders.

Three items of note caught my attention this week… all caught up for centuries in this historic battle.

Brown University thoroughly investigated its historic ties to slavery and the slave trade, and its profit therefrom, and issued a remarkable report a few years back. This week it was announced that Brown will acknowledge its deep, historic connection in a very public way by following one of the recommendations in the report and create a slavery memorial in a prominent place on campus.

Monticello, home to Thomas Jefferson and the hundreds of people he enslaved, announced this week that “Landscape of Slavery: Mulberry Row at Monticello” will open this Friday. “This new outdoor exhibition featuring mini-exhibits at key sites, a website, and computer animations will illuminate Mulberry Row and provide visitors with a clearer picture of the landscape of slavery.”

The histories of Brown and Monticello are but two examples of the enormous system of enslavement that led to universal terror and discrimination against black people for centuries.

My wife and I watched Slavery By Another Name, the story of the inevitable result of the choices made by the Browns and Jefferson, on PBS Monday night. It was depressing and maddening to look honestly at this horrible (and completely hidden until recently) chapter in American history; and to know that white people, by and large, were either direct perpetrators or complicit bystanders; all of whom (and their descendants today) benefited from the terror perpetrated against black people.

I was grateful to Oregon Public Broadcasting for following Slavery By Another Name with another, much shorter documentary: Not in Our Town: Class Actions, which profiles students and community members who are creating change in the wake of racism, anti-Semitism, and the traumatic consequences of bullying. Staying up until midnight to watch this second show allowed a little bit of hope to seep back in; recognition that progress has been, and continues to be, made.

I encourage all of my friends of European descent who may have missed Slavery By Another Name to watch it online here. It isn’t clear how long PBS will keep this link available, so check it out soon. As hard as it is to watch, it is important to our education as white people. It should be hard to watch. It is also critical to understand how our nation allowed white people’s lust for financial success to take precedence over our stated ideal of liberty for all.

We stand before the stop sign at the intersection of Liberty and Enterprise. Which road will you take?

It had been a very sad week as two close friends of mine had passed away; one quite unexpectedly.

This day, February 9, was one filled with joy. Our daughter Jolie went into labor early in the morning. I went shopping for magazines and newspapers that I will give to this child someday as a record of what was happening in the world when he/she was born. While shopping, I received a call from my wife Lindi that I needed to head for the hospital. The birth process was progressing. Jolie had invited Lindi and me to be present for the birth; the first I would witness since my two daughters were born in the late 1970′s.

What follows are excerpts from my journal that day:

After I arrived at the hospital, I noticed on my phone that my literary agent had called from New York. I called her back and learned that Beacon Press is very interested in making an offer for my manuscript. However, Gayatri Patnaik, the editor who is considering our proposal, wants to talk with me first. I explained to my agent that I’m at the hospital waiting for our grandchild to be born, which definitely caught her by surprise. I told her I’d call Gayatri if I got the chance.

She soon left me another message that I should not worry about calling Gayatri. I did anyway. The nurse said we still have plenty of time. Jolie’s going through contraction after contraction, but no pushing yet. It’s a little after noon. This seems like such a magic day that I’m not going to miss out on any of it. So I punched in the number for Beacon Press.

Gayatri apologized for interrupting such a special moment. I told her she isn’t interrupting at all; she’s part of it. “Welcome to the magic,” I said.

She explained that she’s leaving the country for two weeks but loves my book proposal. We talked about the the story, about Beacon Press, about what she has in mind for the process we would undertake together to transform my manuscript into a book. I immediately felt a powerful connection with Gayatri. The conversation was warm and easy. It felt like we’re on the same wavelength. Though the manuscript has been shopped to several other publishers, it would take a lot to convince me to consider any other publisher. The stars are aligned on this one.

Later in the day…

4:12pm: WE HAVE A BABY. Alison Ryan Heinly is born.

When the medical team finishes checking Ali out, they put a little cap on her head and wrap her in a blanket. They hand her to her daddy. I put my arm around Allen’s shoulder and just stare at this magic little angel. Allen and I both have joyous sniffles and tears in our eyes. I love this moment. I remember when I first met Shiloh [my oldest daughter] thirty years ago. There’s nothing like it in the world.

The sun shines bright through the blinds in the window, anointing Alison with its brilliant warmth. The following two days will be filled with clouds and rain. This moment is pure sunshine. Warm, bright, life-giving, life-affirming. Amazing; just like her. Allen hands Alison to Jolie.

After the amazing experience of childbirth and after leaving our kids at the hospital and returning home, I pondered all that had happened on February 9, 2007. I’m grateful and humbled by having witnessed Ali’s birth; the process of which is evidence of the ongoing human miracle of love and commitment. Our second grandchild has been born into a growing family of people who will love and care for her as long as we live. I’m also grateful and astounded that my lifelong dream of being a published author will finally come true.

Before I knew Ali would be born today, I pulled on a t-shirt from an old comic book series called Sandman. It features the character “Death” who says “You get what anyone gets. You get a lifetime.” I wore it in honor of my friends who had recently died. I’ll attend the funeral for one of them tomorrow.

But as it turns out, I guess the Universe knew what it was doing. This is a perfect message for a birth. We get a lifetime. There are no guarantees on the length or quality and we choose what we do with it. Alison Ryan Heinly will have her own choices to make.

I think of these things, and re-read my journal entries each year on Ali’s birthday because I’m still in awe of all that happened that day. As I now prepare for the publication of another book in October, I extend my gratitude once again to Gayatri Patnaik and everyone at Beacon Press for their commitment to making our world a better place for all of our grandchildren, and for believing in me.

We’re babysitting Ali and her sister Jammie this evening. We’ll take them to Ali’s favorite place for a healthy dessert: Cuppa Yo!. I can’t wait to sweep her up into my arms and give thanks once again. Here’s my final entry from five years ago:

Everyone else may call my granddaughter Alison or Ali. I’m torn between “lucky” and “miracle.”

…and a few hours later at Cuppa Yo, Ali and Papa… bliss!