People of Unclean Lips: A Lament

I journaled this weeks ago in reaction to the murder of Ahmaud Arbery. I considered posting it upon the killing of Breonna Taylor, but I held back. And then George Floyd was killed by police in Minneapolis and Christian Cooper was threatened by a white woman in New York, who told him she'd call 911 and say an African American man was threatening her, after he reminded her she was legally obligated to leash her dog. This reflection has haunted me with every new news report, and it's high time I posted it. I'm not under any illusions that it will change any minds or serve any real redemptive purpose. But to let it sit in draft as person after person is killed or threatened with racialized violence in broad daylight seems cowardly and inauthentic at this point.

Trigger warning: If you don't like asterisks, you're not going to like this post.

If you don't like reflections on uncomfortable topics, you're not going to like this post either.

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I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips.
Isaiah 6:5

The world is a f***ed up place.

These are the words that keep coalescing in my head, the only words that I can muster up when I try to articulate the emotions that surface for me around Ahmaud Arbery. He was shot and killed months ago — I keep trying to remind myself that this assassination is not new news — but I only learned of it when video evidence of the killing finally surfaced. Another execution of another black man at the hands of white men. Another act of degrading violence. Another anecdote in the centuries-long history of racial tyranny and terrorism in the United F***ing States.

I can’t bring myself to type “f***” because I am a Christian and Christians don’t say such words. When I was a kid I used to entertain myself by citing Cohen v. California, the Supreme Court case that affirmed the very sensible argument that freedom of speech extends to vulgar language, so that saying “f***” is our constitutional right. I was a stupid f***ing kid — not because I would occasionally say “f***” but because I took such glee in indulging stupid stuff like this for myself when real human beings were getting shot in the streets for stupid stuff. I was a f***ing Karen before Karen was a f***ing thing.

But I was a child then, and I have since put childish things behind me. I recognize now that when I was enamored with Cohen v. California I was being a stupid f***ing kid, like those f***ers over in Michigan who thought they’d show all of us by marching into government buildings wearing weapons of mass f***ing destruction and ranting about how the state was taking away their f***ing rights by requiring them to change their behavior during a global f***ing pandemic. Those f***ers went home to sleep in their own f***ing beds that night. I’ll be they high-fived each other on their f***ing social media accounts before they kissed their f***ing kids good night.

For some stupid f***ing reason those f***ers can get away with provocative actions like that and Ahmaud Arbery can’t even go for a f***ing run in his own f***ing town without getting shot and killed by a couple of f***ing a**holes who think they’re part of a master race or something. And when they’re caught in the f***ing act they just appeal to some f***ed-up arbitrary law that some f***ing politician threw at the f***ing wall to appease his f***ed up constituency, and then all the other f***ed up politicians who were looking to score some easy points voted yes instead of “hell no” or “what the f*** is this bulls***?” and so suddenly white people with guns can shoot black joggers and call it a f***ing citizen’s arrest.

This is the same f***ed up logic that got Trayvon Martin killed for walking home from a f***ing store, that got Jordan Davis killed for listening to f***ing music in his own f***ing car, that got little twelve-year-old Tamir Rice shot dead for playing with a toy f***ing gun while grown-a** white men in f***ing Michigan are prancing around in camouflage playing with real-a** f***ing semi-automatics in full view of the f***ing police without any f***ing consequence. The world is a f***ed up place.

I can’t say “f***” because I’m a Christian, and Christians can’t abide by vulgar language. We can, apparently, abide by vulgar legislation, vulgar acts of public provocation, vulgar expressions of unchecked entitlement, and countless other displays of vulgarity that demonstrate plainly how f***ed up the world is and yet don’t rise to the level of gross impiety of four-letter words.

Comedian Buddy Hackett used to do a bit about the word “f***.” As I heard the bit, he asked some nice-looking Christian lady in the audience if she ever cussed. Of course not, was her proper and predictable response. He then offered a scenario, say, dropping an anvil on your foot. The immediate, visceral reaction is not one of propriety but something guttural, something vulgar: “Ouch! I broke my f***ing foot!” Some words, he argued, are particularly suited for the moment, even though they wouldn’t normally make it through our filters. Some moments defy filters. Some filters muddy up a moment.

I'm reluctant to sign my name to this because I’m a Christian, and it wouldn’t be nice to do so. I think it’s entirely possible that by owning this rant, I'll be subjected to shame by my church friends and my Christian employer will call me down to HR for a chat. But more than that, I’ll resist the idea of putting my name to it because I have shaped my filters in such a way that such language has no place, and in turn my filters have shaped me into a person who is focused on scrupulously moderating his language so as to describe gross violations of human dignity like the killing of Ahmaud Arbery in nice, polite terms, rather than demanding in an outdoor voice and with the most visceral, arresting language available to me that all of us, starting with myself, refuse to tolerate such demonstrations of our inherent vulgarity as a society, and instead scrupulously refashion society in the manner of Jesus, who among other things stood between a vulnerable woman and a crowd that thought it would be both cool and well within their rights to stone her to death; Jesus who stood between a man healed of his blindness and authorities who felt entirely entitled to coerce him and his family into betraying Jesus and one another; Jesus who told his followers in starkly plain language to obey God and not cower before people who were in the habit of enforcing their social power with weapons of mass intimidation; Jesus who threw the opportunists out of the temple and welcomed marginalized ethnic communities into the family of faith.

That’s a long sentence, a byproduct of the filtration system I’ve been enculturated into and have reinforced with my own participation in it. The world is a f***ed up place, and I’m right there f***ed up in the middle of it. May God have mercy on every f***ing one of us.

This is a lament and is to be used as a lament.
Ezekiel 19:14

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This lament is for Ahmaud Arbery, and Breonna Taylor, and George Floyd, and Christian Cooper, and for Tamir Rice, and for Trayvon Martin, and for Sandra Bland, and for Philando Castile, and for Botham Jean, and for Eric Garner, and for Michael Brown, and for Atatiana Jefferson, and for Freddie Gray, and for Emmett Till, and for so so so many others.