Racism and the impact of words

Dear Friend,

When we talked the other day, you mentioned how certain you were that COVID-19 came from Wuhan, China. You were comparing it to the “Asian Flu” from the 1950s, saying how it made sense to refer to a disease based on its place of origin. You didn’t see that kind of label as racist—and said so.

I got too upset to talk, so I ended the conversation. But I can’t shake this thought that you might feel comfortable referring to COVID-19 as “the China Virus” or “the Wuhan Virus,” or—that at a minimum—you wouldn’t turn off, shut out, or even think negatively about members of the media or radio talk show hosts who would use that term.

So, I want to return to that conversation and invite you—beg you, even—to consider a different perspective.

Words have an impact. Racism is alive and dangerous. It allows—and even permits—division in our society. Racism isn’t something that happens to other people. It affects all of us—and each of us plays a part in naming it, opposing it, and changing what we can.

As Catholic Christians, we cannot sit back and say we aren’t racist. Our job on earth is to spread the love of Christ in our own hearts, in our families, and in our communities. We need to heal division. We need to look inside ourselves and ask what more we can be doing to contribute to making sure everyone is seen as a child of God, regardless of background or belief or who they are.

In Sunday’s Gospel reading from the Book of John, Jesus said, “I am the vine, you are the branches. Whoever remains in me and I in him will bear much fruit, because without me you can do nothing.”

We are all branches on the same vine. I cannot thrive if you are not thriving. You cannot thrive if I am not thriving. You and I cannot bloom if people of every race and ethnicity are not seen as equally important. We all bloom best when we draw our strength from the vine—the love of Jesus. Each of us is part of the Body of Christ. If any part of the Body of Christ is hurting, we are all hurting. And many, many people are hurting because of this stain on our society.

That’s why there are times when we need to choose words carefully. This virus has a name that has worked perfectly well for more than a year, COVID-19. That term hurts no one.

Some people might say, “Oh, that’s political correctness! Look at what the world has come to!” But if we can choose different words and not hurt others, why wouldn’t we? If the very words you speak can ease someone’s burden, promote a little less hate, and be just a little more caring, why wouldn’t we opt for that? If we do nothing else right—and I certainly think Jesus calls us to do more than this—let’s try to do no harm.

Many years ago, in my first year as a newspaper reporter, I was sent to cover a Ku Klux Klan rally. I stood there watching as men in hoods stood on the steps of the local courthouse and screamed racist statements at the crowd. Faces hidden and voices amplified, they were intentionally spreading hatred, promoting racism. It was horrifying, but—naïve recent college grad that I was—I glanced at the people listening and believed that those loud statements were falling on deaf ears.

Then, a coworker standing next to me—a woman I saw every day at the office—turned to me and said, “Well, you gotta agree with them on that part.” And chills went up my spine. Because I realized many people in the crowd were standing there because they agreed. And I saw that she realized there was apparent validity to a racist perspective she might never have voiced before.

I think of that experience often. When statements are inspired by racism or xenophobia, they permit and condone racism. They allow it to grow. So, we have good reason to be vigilant. That’s not political correctness or liberal mumbo jumbo. It’s part of our duty as Christians is to speak up for those whose voices might not always be heard, and to advocate for justice and love.

A year into the COVID-19 pandemic, I like to think we’re beyond referring to this virus with a term that contributes to a negative stigma, promoting xenophobia, intolerance, and racism. Clearly, we aren’t.

And, as we see racism and violence directed at people of Asian, Asian American, and Pacific Islander descent throughout our nation, we can see how devastating it is for people of those backgrounds.

Maybe I’m the exception, but I don’t care where the virus originated. I do hope that scientists figure that out so perhaps this can be avoided in the future, but I don’t think about that actively. That’s not my problem to solve.

A problem I live with every day, however, is how to raise my children in a racist society, in a racist world. This COVID-19 pandemic will end, but the pandemic of racism will be with us for as far into the future as I can see. There’s no vaccine to solve that. It will truly take every one of us to address it. And I’m going to need to learn hard on Jesus for clarity and guidance to figure out what He is asking of me. I know I’m falling short.

Many days I feel completely daunted by how to contribute to a less racist world. After I hung up during our phone conversation the other day, I simply sat down and cried. It’s so vast, so defeating. I am trying to hold onto the hope and faith that together our society can make progress if we’re just open to spreading the love of Jesus and consider that each one of us must be part of a bigger solution.

As Dorothy Day said, “The greatest challenge of the day is: how to bring about a revolution of the heart, a revolution which has to start with each one of us?”

I am trying to be open to that revolution. I hope you are, too. Even if you aren’t, please consider how the words you choose have an impact long after you voice them—and that you might be hurting people you love.

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