Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: WEDNESDAY, October 11, 1995 TAG: 9510110043
SECTION: EDITORIAL PAGE: A7 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: DETINE L. BOWERS
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
At a time when our country's discourse is driven by division and discord along the lines of race, gender, class and religion, we have what appears to be more symbolism of division and difference. This is because the emphasis in much of the communication about this march has been on differences and on what Farrakhan represents: militancy.
I have been especially concerned about the march's timing. First, it is on the heels of the O.J. Simpson verdict, a case much of the media labeled as a trial about race. Second, Oct. 16 is the anniversary of John Brown's raid on Harpers Ferry, a failed attempt to free slaves by force in 1859.
A couple of weeks ago, while returning to Blacksburg from a visit with family in Baltimore, I stopped in Harpers Ferry. It was my first visit, a rainy Sunday evening, and I had an eerie feeling at the site where racial division bred violence. After checking the date of the raid, I thought of the Million Man March, and felt uneasy about an effort to bring black men together when a spirit of division seemed to cloud a tenet of unity: unconditional love.
I have reconsidered. Despite what Farrakhan is thought to represent, Monday can be an opportunity to heal divisions. If we counter negative feelings about the march and who is leading it with positive feelings and a spirit of healing for all who are in pain, the marching ground can become a healing ground.
I have come to see Oct. 16 as a day to face pain with resolve, not just for black men, but for all who feel uneasy or even whipped by the system. Each of us can identify with this kind of pain, emanating from a contemporary lifestyle that forces us into being about the politics of living rather than the spirit of it. In our environment of individualism, we are increasingly focusing on our differences rather than our commonalities.
In a letter published in February in The Washington Post, I wrote of the need for a national mental-health center dedicated to studying the black psyche. One person who read the piece contacted me and told me that his experiences with blacks in the military demonstrated our incredible care-giving capacity. At first I was concerned about this view, since some could see it as a stereotype of blacks. I reconsidered after thinking of the spiritual power of God among black people, and how that has been an incredible resource for resilience and unconditional love.
But for the past two decades, the spiritual power of God that has been the foundation for survival within the black community has been invaded by spiritual pain. Black crime and violent deaths are rampant. Our resource of abounding love, despite feelings of oppression, has taken a back seat to frustration and despair. Healing is sorely needed.
Saturday, my family will unite in Baltimore. The weekend is the kind of resource we need for healing, a time to counter division. We will build the vision of Harmony Center, an educational facility inspired by the unconditional love of the holy spirit that we are creating at my late grandfather's farm in Bruns-wick County. This is a place where people of any race, class, gender and religion will be able to find peace and purpose in life.
Only through united action can we move beyond the petty debates that keep us from our humanity.
We can either view Monday as a day of conflict or a day of resolution. When we can open our thoughts and our hearts, and believe that the souls of a million black men coming together can open doors for peace among the races rather than conflict, we help create that peace for us all.
Detine L. Bowers is an assistant professor of communication studies at Virginia Tech.
by CNB