Tag: history

Reclaiming Racial Reconcillation: Why the Wounded Must Lead the Healing

In the United States, the language of “racial reconciliation” is increasingly invoked in churches, corporate boardrooms, nonprofit organizations, and political platforms. Yet too often, the process is led and defined by the descendants of those who benefited most from racial injustice, rather than those who bore its deepest wounds. This imbalance not only distorts the process but also undermines its potential to be genuinely transformative.

True racial reconciliation cannot be orchestrated by those who have historically held the power, dictated the narratives, or controlled the systems of wealth and influence. It must be led by those most impacted by racial violence, dispossession, and systemic exclusion. Anything less risks becoming either a symbolic gesture or, worse, a retraumatizing reenactment of colonial power dynamics dressed in the language of healing.

When descendants of slaveholders, colonizers, or beneficiaries of racial hierarchies lead the reconciliation process, the outcomes often center on comfort and image management rather than truth, justice, or repair. Apologies are issued, but no reparations follow. Dialogues are held, but decision-making remains centralized in historically white institutions. Workshops are facilitated, but budgets remain unequally distributed. These patterns reinforce the status quo, pacifying discomfort without redistributing power.

This dynamic also privileges the emotional ease of the dominant group. The goal becomes creating a sense of closure, of “moving on,” rather than honestly confronting the enduring consequences of racial harm, including generational poverty, institutional mistrust, educational disparities, cultural erasure, and political disenfranchisement. In this sense, mainstream racial reconciliation efforts often cater to white guilt and fragility rather than Black trauma and resilience.

Having lived in the Black Christian evangelical world for the past 35-plus years, I have witnessed firsthand, across a wide range of Christian organizations, the bastardization of the concept of racial reconciliation. Sadly, even many Black Christians have internalized these diluted versions. As a result, the underserved — especially Black believers — have been marginalized within evangelical spaces, excluded from preaching opportunities, board leadership, and publishing platforms. Even when access is granted, it often benefits the individual rather than the broader community.

One of the critical missing links in all of this is the power of the Holy Spirit. As John 3:30 reminds us, “He must increase, and I must decrease.” The Spirit empowers us to think differently — to imagine reconciliation not as a symbolic gesture, but as a transformative, systemic process rooted in humility and divine justice.

There’s an expression that says, “Power concedes nothing.” Jesus understood that. In fact, He changed the game. He led with a radically inclusive vision — one that built a level playing field for all people, especially the poor and the oppressed. His Beatitudes are a blueprint for this reversal of worldly power: “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth” (Matthew 5:5).

If biblical reconciliation is to reflect the heart of Christ, then power must be conceded, and systems must be redesigned and transformed. Acknowledgment and apology alone are not enough. What is needed is a rebalancing of power, voice, and resources. This shift must be systemic, not symbolic.

Here are five key principles I believe are essential for genuine reconciliation:

1. Leadership by the Wounded

Those most harmed — descendants of enslaved people, Indigenous communities, and historically marginalized groups — must lead the process. Their lived experience must shape the design, language, timeline, and goals of any reconciliation efforts. Healing must be led by those who know the pain.

2. Narrative Control

The stories and frameworks used to guide reconciliation must come from the grassroots. This includes centering oral histories, truth commissions rooted in community, and cultural practices that reflect the values of the oppressed, not sanitized retellings curated for institutional comfort.

3. Structural Reparations

There can be no true reconciliation without a material response. That means wealth redistribution, divestment from oppressive systems (such as the prison-industrial complex and exploitative corporations), and reinvestment in Black, Brown, and Indigenous futures.

4. Shared Governance

Institutional power must be shared — or surrendered. Boards, churches, universities, and civic bodies must include and empower those who were previously excluded, not as tokens but as equal—if not primary—stakeholders in decision-making.

5. The Right to Say “No”

True reconciliation honors the right of harmed communities to decline participation in performative or insufficient efforts. They must be able to reject gestures that do not lead to meaningful change and protect their own boundaries around trauma and healing. Without consent, any effort risks becoming a reenactment of control.

The future of racial reconciliation in America depends on a righteous disruption of the old frameworks. We must unlearn models that prize politeness over justice and comfort over truth. We must reject the temptation to “move on” before we’ve even faced the truth.

Churches, Christian organizations, universities, and governments must go beyond panels, pledges, and performative diversity campaigns. They must make room for radical honesty, historical reckoning, and the tangible restructuring of power. Without this, what is meant to heal will only deepen the wound.

This is not about revenge — it is about repair.
It is not about guilt — it is about justice.
It is not about erasing anyone’s humanity — it is about finally affirming the full humanity of those whose dignity has been denied for generations.

The path toward racial healing must be built by those who know the terrain of suffering and survival best. Their leadership is not only legitimate but also essential. Until we understand that reconciliation without justice is not true reconciliation, we will continue to mistake performance for progress.

Now is the time to shift the center —
From the privileged to the oppressed.
From symbolic gestures to systemic change.
From control to shared liberation.

Only then can the body of Christ begin the work of true reconciliation — not as a moment, but as a movement. I’m just saying…. What say you?

Ode to My Friend Luther “Badman” Keith 1950 -2025

I’m up at 2:30 in the morning, trying to process the news of your death, Luther. I can only think about The Impossible Dream from Man of La Mancha. Brother Luther, you lived a life of courage, passion, and purpose, turning impossible dreams into reality—not just for yourself but for your family, friends, and, most importantly, for Detroit. You saw potential where others saw obstacles, hope where others saw despair, and you poured your heart into making a difference. Your legacy is one of vision and relentless determination, and though you are gone, the dreams you chased and the lives you touched will continue to inspire us all.

Luther was the consummate journalist—always asking questions, seeking information, and striving for truth. He was cut from a different cloth, deeply connected to the city and its communities in ways few journalists ever achieve. A proud graduate of the University of Detroit with a degree in journalism, he worked his way up from a cub reporter in Lansing to a leadership role at The Detroit News. He fought fiercely for Black representation in journalism, never shying away from the challenge of making newsrooms more inclusive. His impact was undeniable, particularly in his instrumental role in founding the Wayne State University Journalism Institute for Minorities, which opened doors for so many who had long been shut out of the field. For many of us, his dream seemed impossible—but he pursued it relentlessly, proving that barriers could be broken and that representation in media mattered. His legacy will continue to inspire generations of journalists to come.

My friend and colleague Luther Keith has joined the great cloud of witnesses as an angel for Detroit. He dreamed the impossible dream for himself and for our city. His dream for Detroit was that it would be better and do better.  Luther loved Detroit.   I have so many wonderful memories—from partying on Outer Drive into the early morning to badgering you as a young public relations executive to that unforgettable morning of the JOA when I represented Knight Ridder’s Free Press—a true day from journalism hell. Then we decided to take the lead on Mayor Kilpatrick’s failed vision of the Man Power Movement, believing we could make a difference. It’s almost unbelievable that we crisscrossed the nation on our own dime, studying men’s movements that we hoped to replicate in Detroit. And who could forget that Philadelphia trip, where we bravely spent the night with brothers trying to bring peace to a gang-infested neighborhood? We were crazy, but you had the dream—that safety and unity could be built not just through police intervention but through brothers coming together to serve and protect their own communities. Your vision was bold, your commitment unwavering, and your love for Detroit unmatched. 

I remember when he launched ARISE Detroit—his goal was to clean up every street and restore the city’s beauty through the power of volunteers. And that’s precisely what he did. We talked for hours about my teenage years leading KDB (Keep Detroit Beautiful) Teens and how a small cadre of Black teenagers organized youth in every Detroit zone to clean the city. I didn’t believe it could be done, but you dreamed it and made it happen. ARISE Detroit mobilized and empowered hundreds of thousands of city and suburbs volunteers to take on community improvement projects. If I had to guess, there were probably hundreds of these initiatives each year, and the man who believed in the impossible made it his mission to visit every single one on Neighborhoods Day. You were tireless for Detroit.

Despite being a relative of the esteemed Judge Damon Keith, Luther never carried an air of superiority. He connected with everyone, including a guy like me from the Northend of Detroit. He served on numerous boards, but one of his greatest passions was the Detroit Library Commission. He envisioned the library as more than just a place for books—it was a hub for the community, a sanctuary where Black children and youth could expand their horizons and dream beyond their circumstances.

Later in life, Luther discovered another passion—Blues music. He taught himself to master the guitar and became a fixture in Michigan’s Blues and Jazz scene, earning the name Luther “Badman” Keith. You could hear him play at nearly every Blues or Jazz joint across the state. At the last Detroit Chapter’s NABJ Valentine Celebration, I asked him, “Man, when do you sleep?” He laughed and said, “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” How prophetic. 

Well, my friend and brother, you left a great career at The Detroit News to pursue your passion. You nurtured that passion into one of Detroit’s most impactful coalitions of neighborhood groups dedicated to revitalizing the city and strengthening its communities. Now, rest. Your legacy is secure. You dreamed big, lived boldly, and made the impossible possible.

And don’t worry—Detroit will take care of your wife, Jacqueline, your superstar daughter, Erin, and your lifelong sidekick and blood brother, Terrance.

I have a dream in your honor—that Wayne State University will establish a School of Journalism bearing your name.

Love you, brother. See you on the other side.

P.S.  For those who may not be familiar—Millennials, Gen Z, Gen X, and Alpha—this is for you. The Impossible Dream is a timeless classic, and here’s one of my favorite versions by Josh Groban.