Race relations at BYU

A microcosm of a culture-wide issue

Recently, as part of Black History Month, a panel entitled “The Black Immigrant Experience” was held at BYU. Just like it sounds, students discussed their experiences regarding being black, African immigrants. As part of the event, anonymous questions were submitted and posted on a screen behind the panelists. A number of extremely offensive and racist questions appeared. Unbelievably, some people in the audience even laughed when they showed up on the screen. Why anonymous questions were allowed and without being screened is beyond me, but the fact that this happened is reprehensible. (SL Tribune story here.)

The story was deemed noteworthy to be run by the Washington Post, which is embarrassing. It makes me absolutely crazy that some people walk around BYU campus with either a holier than thou attitude or their head stuck in the sand while this kind of bullshit happens. And according to the article, it is not uncommon. One professor tweeted:

Institution of higher learning, huh? Religious institution, you say?

It gets personal.

When I was in jr. high, I attended a summer basketball camp at BYU. My [Asian] mom came to pick me and my friends up afterwards one day. As we were driving, some students with a death wish decided to brazenly run into the road in front of the car. My mom had to slam on her brakes, and being the audacious teenager, I reached over from the passenger seat and laid on the horn. These guys then proceeded to yell a racial slur at my mom as they finished crossing the street. I felt absolutely terrible for putting her in that situation. She was visibly upset. I was angry. On BYU campus! I couldn’t believe it.

This wasn’t the first incident my mom had regarding her ethnicity. She was raised by her Chinese immigrant parents in Provo, UT. Being non-white and non-Mormon in that city was difficult at times. Obviously there wasn’t quite the cultural sensitivity in the 1960s and 1970s as there supposedly is now, yet I somehow expect more out of a “Christ-like” community. My mom still remembers pain from awful things that were said to her as she was growing up. I cried after she showed me her school pictures that she had defaced because of her contempt at her appearance. She wished she was white.

In 1977, the year my parents were married, the open-minded diversity and love champion Boyd K. Packer said, “We’ve always counseled in the Church for our Mexican members to marry Mexicans, our Japanese members to marry Japanese, our Caucasians to marry Caucasians, our Polynesian members to marry Polynesians….The counsel has been wise.”

Oh really, Boyd? Because it’s 42 years later and my Chinese mother and Caucasian father are still married, after spawning 5 of us half-breeds. Eat shit, Boyd.

This crap shouldn’t come as a surprise, when you think about it.

With guys like Boyd advising people, and considering the lack of diversity in Utah, especially Utah county, I guess one shouldn’t be too surprised at the ignorance. Even I, 50/50 white and Chinese, experienced some slurs and plenty of idiotic comments growing up there.

From as early as I can remember, I have found myself being ultra-sensitive to issues regarding race and minorities, probably in part from the struggles of my grandparents and mom. My heart hurts for the BYU students of color who were doing their best to educate and improve their community. I really hope the university does more than just condemn the comments that were made. Yet part of me asks, what CAN they do? This problem is a symptom of what the church itself teaches.

In primary, we were all taught about the Lamanites, how they were bad and so God punished them by making their skin dark. I remember thinking of the Lamanites as the “bad guys” and the Nephites as the “good guys.” The mark of Cain was also taught to be a punishment of dark skin, inflicted after he murdered his own brother. Then of course we have Brigham Young’s comments and blacks and slavery, as well as the whole blacks and the priesthood thing in the church’s history. When you look at the leadership in the church, what do you see? A whole lotta white. (And of course a whole lotta male. OLD male.)

These things never sat well with me. As a child I was confused how turning someone’s skin dark was meant to be a punishment. To be honest, I wondered how any self-respecting black person could accept being part of the church for these reasons. Obviously I am not, yet was still never able to reconcile my own feelings with this. I could never buy the justifications people tried to placate me with.

Lack of real effort

I’m frustrated. I’m angry that it is 2020 and there is still racism rampant around here. It’s not always so blatant as in this BYU instance either.  It can be a simple comment, not even with malicious intent, but with a complete lack of awareness behind it. Or it’s the common practice of sweeping things under the rug, pretending they don’t exist. It’s sometimes hard to believe that a church that prides itself on a missionary program that spreads its message to all kinds of people in every corner of the Earth can still manage to cultivate this clueless and even ugly behavior towards those that don’t fit the cookie cutter mold. It’s like some people don’t even make an effort to expand their mind and experience.

A perfect example of this was related to me by my dad. My parents have neighbors that are Muslim that they have become friends with. The woman, whose dress clearly displays her faith, shared that she had been flipped off recently as a result. My dad, in his eternal effort to improve the culture within the church, went to the bishop with an idea. He suggested and offered to organize a day where members of the ward or stake went to the mosque to be part of a service, followed by a Q&A where the LDS members could find out more about the Muslim faith. Great idea to educate and foster some respect and understanding, right? Before having his idea shut down, he was asked, “Well, are they [the Muslim followers] willing to come to our church too?”

Like, WTAF? The message here is A. no, we don’t care about creating bridges with our neighbors who are experiencing misunderstanding, intolerance, and hate, and B. if we do try, it has to be quid pro quo. Nothing without an ulterior motive. Unreal. Just stay in your comfortable little box.

A couple days ago, the BYU crew got admonished by an apostle to stop being racist and discriminatory. I mean, I guess that’s sort of an effort to look like you care. But actions speak much louder than a bunch of fancy words.

What helps me feel better

There’s a lot of shitty people in the world. I know this stuff happens elsewhere. It’s just a really hard pill to swallow when these kinds of actions come from a population who so ardently profess to be better than that–and really better than the rest of us heathens and left wing nut jobs.

How does one feel any better about race in Utah? Well, I do what I can right now. I have monthly automatic donations set up to the ACLU and Southern Poverty Law Center; they at least have a lot of power and resources to get things accomplished. I have also done various things to help the refugee population in particular. In SLC, there is the IRC, Asian Association of Utah, and Catholic Community Services.

In my own daily life, I make it a high priority to educate my kids on the importance of being loving and accepting of everyone. This past month I jumped on the opportunity to help with my daughter’s Chinese New Year celebration at school. I taught them a little about the culture and introduced them to some new foods. Hopefully there’s 28 fifth graders who are a smidgen more educated and culturally sensitive.

During our spring break trip last year, we took the kids to the National WWII museum. There was some rough conversation, but it was important education opportunity. Then, in my first week after this trip and I was feeling extra sensitive, my job presented me with my own special learning challenge: I had a patient covered in swastika tattoos.

It was not easy…I had to step away for a private emotional moment. But I took a deep breath and did what had to be done. I didn’t half ass it, either. I remained kind and professional, and cared for this person as well as I would have anyone else. Because when it comes down to it, this person is human too with the same needs as the rest of us. Some are just harder to connect with than others. It is difficult to return hate with compassion.

So here’s what we can do…take on the challenges presented to us in our own lives and step up and do something instead of staying quiet. Support movements that build bridges and not walls–the latter being both figuratively and literally. Work to expand the view of those around us, while exercising extreme patience and not punching people who ask stupid ass questions, like “What are you?” I’m human, dude.

Share on Facebook

Tweet

Follow me