Find out why Black Lives Matter ... matters

As soon as I saw the theme for a recent service at the Fox Valley Unitarian Universalist Fellowship, I knew I had to go. The title, ­­­­“Inherent worth and dignity: Does this apply to the election?” was undoubtedly timely.

The title refers to the first of the seven Unitarian Universalist principles, recognizing the inherent worth and dignity of all people.

Our society seems more divided than ever. I struggle daily with how to accept people whose beliefs are different from my own.

I was pumped. I certainly could benefit from a lesson about remembering the inherent worth and dignity of all people. I think we all could.

My hopes were high as I settled in for the sermon. The minister, the Rev. Karon Sandberg, told us of her strained relationship with her sister. Sandberg is liberal, and her sister is conservative. Try as they might, they’ve always struggled to set their differences aside.

After spending years at odds, Sandberg finally chose to ask her sister a question: “What hurts?” Whether she used those exact words, I’m not sure, but the goal is the same.

Asking what hurts, Sandberg argues, is a way to understand what motivates people’s beliefs and feelings. In her case, she learned that her sister feared losing rights that were important to her.

Sandberg closed with the exhortations to remember that others’ hurts and feelings are real, even if they’re not ours and to stay committed to seeing others as essentially good.

The sermon was thought-provoking and filled with wisdom, and yet at the end I still found myself silently asking, “So how exactly do I get along with people I disagree with?”

I let the uncertainty turn over in my brain. Finally, I came to understand that I was struggling because what Sandberg was asking us to do is difficult.

There’s no neat resolution, and even if you figure out what hurts for the other person, it might not make it any easier to accept it.

This kind of change is not sweeping but incremental, and that can feel decidedly ungratifying.

Of course, this discussion feels especially relevant to our fellowship, whose Black Lives Matter banner has been stolen or vandalized three times.

My husband and I attended the ceremony that rededicated a newly purchased banner a few weeks ago. I was delighted to see a large turnout, and it was moving to stand with members of our fellowship and the community.

Even as I stood there, I knew that the banner wouldn’t last long. Indeed, days later it was gone again.

Our transitional minister, the Rev. Kathleen Rolenz, has fielded call after call, with many expressing a similar sentiment: “Why do you have a Black Lives Matter banner? All lives matter.”

Rolenz will tell you that, historically, black lives have not mattered as much as white lives. She will stress that neither we as a fellowship nor the movement is anti-police. I agree with all of this.

For me, though, supporting Black Lives Matter is a way to say that as a white person, I can’t understand the realities a black people face, but I want to listen and to stand with them.

In media coverage of the banner theft I read, dejectedly, the harsh words people from both sides exchanged on comments sections and Facebook threads. I felt increasingly pessimistic about people’s willingness to try to understand one another.

Then hope came from an unexpected place: the television show “Full Frontal with Samantha Bee.”

The episode did its fair share of skewering the Republican National Convention but, at the end, Bee’s correspondents interview convention attendees about Black Lives Matter.

One woman confesses to the black interviewer that she doesn’t know whether to say “African-American” or “black” and it makes her nervous. Others express similar sentiments.

“She asked what hurt, and it worked!” my husband observed. Wise man.

It was a surprisingly human moment. I don’t have much in common with convention attendees, but I could relate to this sentiment.

You may never agree with me about Black Lives Matter, and I may find it hard to accept your political beliefs. But please, let’s not make one another into caricatures. Let’s keep making an effort to understand.

Jessica Thiel is an Appleton resident and can be reached at jessicathiel3@gmail.com.