Diversity & Inclusion: The Wilderness of Unlearning
In Illinois, as the only Black woman on staff in the suburbs, I quickly faced microaggressions. These are subtle, everyday slights—whether intentional or not—that convey hostility toward marginalized groups. I heard comments like, “Can I touch your hair?” or “Turn on the lights; I can’t see you—only your teeth.” More brazen remarks included, “More Black people are moving to the suburbs—oh no! The White race is dwindling. We’ve got to do something about it!” and “Look at my tan, I’m almost as dark as you.” These comments came mostly from my White senior pastor. In this same environment, I witnessed a Black man state, “I’ll never marry a Black woman,” and saw the pastor fat-shame, ridicule, and watch as White women altered their appearances to suit his preferences. This was my experience from 2002-2016.
In Arizona, working in a more diverse environment with a mostly Black and Brown staff was healing in some ways. However, I witnessed another White senior pastor fire a Black pastor for talking too much about racism. The message was clear: 'We need to keep the main thing the main thing, which is Jesus Christ crucified and resurrected,' indirectly implying that Jesus didn’t care about the lived experiences of Black Americans. This church prioritized growth and financial stability over addressing social disparities. While people grow and change, and perhaps things are different now, this was my experience in 2017-2018.
As I moved through these spaces, I began to question: Where is the liberating love of Jesus for Black people facing police brutality, no-knock warrants, and violent deaths?
During the racial reckoning of 2020, I came to understand something profound: Jesus, a brown, immigrant child born into poverty and unjustly lynched on a tree, mirrors the experiences of many Black and Brown people—descendants of immigrants born into poverty and unjustly lynched on trees throughout history. Comparing Jesus to the lived experiences of my people reveals more commonalities than many churches often acknowledge. It’s easier to ignore these truths than to confront them.
My experience is not universal. Blackness is not a monolith, not everybody believes in Jesus, and my story doesn’t represent all Black women working in church spaces. However, one thing is clear: It’s possible to have diverse people present and still be anti-Black, anti-Native, anti-Asian, anti-Latine, or anti-anything not White. I’ve lived it.
So, when spaces claim to want diversity and inclusion, do they mean it, or is it simply a response to social pressure? Are they merely presenting a façade of diversity without a genuine commitment to the cost of inclusion?
If you truly desire a diverse space, I hope you create an environment where everyone can fully embrace their identity—without suppressing their history or diminishing the significance of their lived experiences. We need to foster environments where people of all backgrounds feel safe to be themselves, without the pressure to conform to the dominant culture to be seen, heard, or loved.
Does your commitment to inclusion include the lived experiences of people of color, LGBTQIA+ individuals, women, children, neurodivergent people, those with disabilities, elders, and others often overlooked? Do you engage in microaggressions or make light of unfamiliar experiences? Do you expect others to conform to your way of thinking? And do you actively share your power and platform with those who are most marginalized?
How can we claim to have changed if we’re unwilling to unlearn the societal norms we’ve internalized? When God liberated the Israelites from Egyptian slavery in the Book of Exodus, they were led into the wilderness on an unsuccessful journey (I might add) to unlearn oppression. Even the oppressed can become oppressors unless they first unlearn the systems that held them captive.
Have you unlearned oppression in how you lead, raise your children, treat your neighbor, spend your money, or practice your faith? Not replicating oppressive behavior requires time to unlearn harmful patterns before moving forward. Yet, our culture often seeks to jump directly from the experience of “Egyptian slavery” to leadership in the “Promised Land,” bypassing the crucial process of wilderness wandering and frustrating formation called...unlearning. I believe this is why Reconstruction failed in America and why we see many people today move from place to place—without seeing genuine, holistic change.
America quickly transitioned from over a hundred years of Ku Klux Klan (KKK, 1865–present) terror—including cross burnings, lynchings, voter suppression, and attacks on Black communities—to desegregation efforts (1954–1971), but never fully, systemically addressed the horrors of these acts—and still hasn’t. We have yet to reckon with the discipleship implications of pastors who preached on Sunday and then either stood by as these atrocities occurred or put on the hood to participate themselves.
Source: (Oregon Historical Society) Meeting of the KKK, probably in Portland, Ore., in the 1920s.
Instead of addressing violence and racism, we simply put different people into a room and called it "diverse." This failure to confront our nation's dark past is reflected in how people interact with the spaces we lead and create. We should be more thoughtful about why people leave churches, jobs, or even well-meaning nonprofits.
Take time to reflect:
What causes harmful experiences? What belief systems create such environments? What theology or ideology has shaped this culture? Do people feel like they have the agency to leave? Why do some people feel safe to speak up while others do not? How will I know if the space I've created is harmful? What keeps people from leaving a space that has become oppressive? What role do I play in my own liberation and in the liberation of others for whom I am responsible? How is my leadership impacting those around me? Am I creating a safe space for all people?
Bringing new people onto your team doesn’t guarantee a new experience. The problem might be you. How will you break the cycle and create something genuinely different? What responsibility do you have in fostering real diversity and inclusion?
Who better to lead the unlearning of oppression than those who have felt its weight firsthand? They understand its depths, nuances, and blind spots like no one else.
Equality demands that we listen to the voices society has marginalized. Only then can we unlearn what divides us and build a beloved community rooted in true equality. My time co-pastoring with Chris Townley at Kaleo Phoenix church for 4.5 years showed me that this isn’t just a good idea or lofty dream; it’s achievable if we’re willing to do the work.
Reflection Questions
What harmful patterns or beliefs from past environments might you still be carrying, and how can you begin to unlearn them?
How can you create spaces that genuinely honor diversity and inclusion, where others can fully be themselves without the pressure to assimilate?
