Beeson Podcast, Episode #504 Panel Discussion - Race July 7, 2020 >>Announcer: Welcome to the Beeson podcast, coming to you from Beeson Divinity School on the campus of Samford University. Now your hosts, Doug Sweeney and Kristen Padilla. >>Doug Sweeney: Welcome to the Beeson Podcast. I’m your host, Doug Sweeney, here with my co-host, Kristen Padilla. And today’s episode is the first in a three week series on racism, racial injustice, and the church. With four of this divinity schools best and brightest alumni, all of whom are African American pastors, who love you enough to share their stories and experiences with you. We’ve all watched in horror, yet again in recent months, as Ahmaud Arbery, Brianna Taylor, George Floyd, and others have been killed unjustly in racially charged altercations. This nothing new, of course. Ethnic minorities in this country and all around the world have been killed unjustly for centuries. But something special seems to be going on around the world today as millions of people are speaking out against these sins. The Lord seems to be at work. This is what educators like to call a “teaching moment.” A crucial teaching moment. And so we’re grateful today to have four fine teachers on the program with us. Won’t you pray with us that we will be good listeners and learners? We know that many of our listeners have been active for years in the struggle for racial justice and the educational, economic, and legal uplift of people of color in America. We hope that many will continue with this struggle day by day, year by year, after the spotlight is off and the media cycle over. We’re committed here at Beeson to doing better every year to make this school a wonderful home and useful training ground for our brothers and sisters of color. But for now we want to learn from today’s featured guests. So, Kristen, will you please introduce them to us? >>Kristen Padilla: Welcome everyone to the special Beeson podcast series. It’s such a privilege and honor to introduce you to our four guests today. Our first guest is the Reverend Dr. Patricia Outlaw. She is the pastor of Oak Grove [inaudible 00:02:31] Church in Florence, Alabama; the Dean of the Nicholas Thomas Grady Clergy Institute of the African Methodist Episcopal Churches, Ninth Episcopal District, and is also a licensed psychologist. She served as the associate professor of divinity at Beeson Divinity School from 2001 to 2015 where I was blessed to have her as a professor. She is the first African American woman and the first African Methodist Episcopal Clergy person to serve on Beeson’s faculty. As well as the first female graduate of Beeson’s DMin program in 2002. Dr. Outlaw is the author of “Soul Food for Hungry Hearts,” published by Gateway Press in 2005. Welcome, Dr. Outlaw, to the podcast. Our second guest is the Reverend Dr. Mary Moss. She is the senior pastor of St. Alma Baptist Church in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. She is also the founder and executive director of Louisiana Area Women in Ministry and is the director of the Southeast Regional Biblical Institute, which was established by Beeson’s extension center in 2011. She was the first female to become pastor of St. Alma Baptist Church and the first female installed by the then 133 year old fourth district Baptist association. Dr. Moss earned her DMin degree from Beeson in 2009, becoming the third African American female to graduate from this degree program. Welcome, Dr. Moss, to the Beeson podcast. Our third guest is the Reverend Dr. Thomas Beavers. He is the senior pastor of New Rising Star Missionary Baptist Church in the Eastlake Community in Birmingham, Alabama. He oversees the New Rising Star community support which provides educational enrichment programs, affordable housing programs, and transportation programs, as well as wellness and workforce initiatives. Dr. Beavers became the fourth pastor of New Rising Star following his grandfather who served as pastor for 35 years. He earned his MDiv and DMin degrees from Beeson in 2007 and 2013 respectively. And in 2018 Dr. Beavers received a master of divinity distinguished alumnus award. Welcome, Dr. Beavers, to the Beeson podcast. Our last guest is the Reverend Dr. Calvin Bell. He is the senior pastor of Bethel Baptist Church in Bessemer, Alabama, where he has served for 20 years. He is also the resource strategist for Samford University’s Center for Congregational Resources. Additionally, he teaches bible classes in the Jefferson County Congress of Christian Education and the Alabama State Baptist Congress of Christian Education. Both which are subsidiaries of the National Baptist Convention USA. Dr. Bell earned his MDiv and DMin degrees from Beeson in 2011 and 2017 respectively. Welcome, Dr. Bell, to the Beeson podcast. We are so glad to have each of you on the show today. We want to begin as we always do by hearing more about who you are. I’ve given a few details about each of you, but we would love for you to fill out those details for us. Specifically, we would like to know where you are from and how you came to faith in Jesus Christ. How about we start with you, Dr. Beavers? >>Dr. Beavers: Thank you so much for having me. Thomas Beavers from Birmingham, Alabama, born and raised. I am the fourth pastor of New Rising Star Church, affectionately known as “the Star.” It is one of the only churches I have ever been a part of inside of my life. How did I come to faith in Jesus Christ? Going to church was not an option. My mother drove me to church. So, every night of the week it was something. Monday night was bible study. Tuesday night was choir rehearsal. Wednesday night was midweek worship. Thursday night was [inaudible 00:06:33] recovery. Friday night was youth activity night. Saturday morning we were witnessing in the streets. And then Sunday came and she drove me to church and Sunday school. I gave my life to Christ when I was five years old. I heard the testimony of the gospel at five years old. And so I’ve been walking [inaudible 00:06:51] and strayed away as a teenager. Eventually I came back and I’ve just been loving Jesus ever since. I love God and I love his people. I’m glad to be here. >>Kristen Padilla: Dr. Outlaw, why don’t you introduce yourself? >>Dr. Outlaw: Okay. Patricia Ann Outlaw and I was born in Baltimore, Maryland in a section of Baltimore called Sandtown. I originally came to Cornerstone Christian Baptist Church, which was about a block and a half from where I lived in Sandtown. Most of the people in my family are Baptist and so I was baptized immersed in the water at the same time my mother was immersed in the water. And so throughout my elementary school years I remained a part of the Baptist tradition. But in my junior high school years I converted to Catholicism. As a result of having a school assignment to visit several different churches that were not of my tradition. As a result of going to the Roman Catholic Church and of course everything was in Latin and being curious as I was I persuaded my mother to let me go to the classes, catechism classes, for educational purposes. And after having spent the required amount of time in those classes and also getting involved with the Catholic Youth organization I persuaded my mother to allow me to become Roman Catholic. So, I converted to Catholicism at the age of 11. Also, I would make a notation that when I was in elementary school the schools were segregated. The schools were not desegregated until 1954 with the Board of Education. So, I went to an all-Black elementary school and in junior high school I went to an integrated junior high school which was an accelerated junior high school. When I went to high school I went to an all-girls public high school. All my schools were public schools. And from there I became a member of the [inaudible 00:08:55] Sisters of Providence, which is a religious order of nuns, which is the oldest Black order of nuns in the United States of America. So, I spent five years in the convent. I left the convent after five years and came back into what we would call “civilian life” the same year that Martin Luther King was assassinated, 1968. I’m going to stop right there. If there’s something else you want to know I can elaborate. That’s just by way of introduction. I also wanted to go on record to say that, yes, I do have a Doctorate of Ministry degree from Beeson Divinity School. Which I earned in 2002, but prior to coming to Beeson I already had a PhD. I got a PhD in human development in 1977. So, I have two doctorates. My mother would want me to say that, because in our tradition and in our growing up years, since I’m the first generation high school graduate in my family she would want the world to know that not only did I graduate from high school, because my mother and father did not graduate from high school, I also earned two doctorates. A PhD and a Doctorate of Ministry degree. >>Kristen Padilla: Dr. Bell? >>Dr. Bell: Thank you for having me as well this afternoon. My name is Calvin Bell. I am from a little town in West Alabama. Boyd, Alabama. That’s in Sumpter County. One of the poorest zip codes in the United States. I was raised on a little 20 acre farm there in Sumpter County and I went to an all-Black high school. [Inaudible 00:10:27] high school. So, all 12 of my years in Sumpter County were in an African American context. Sumpter County is 70% African American, but have Blacks on very little of anything in that county. I came to faith at age 15 at Mount Olive Baptist Church. I was actually raised in the primitive Baptist Church, but I came to faith at Mount Olive Missionary Baptist Church at age 15. I gave my life to Christ under Pastor Reverend [inaudible 00:10:51] revival at that church. After I came to Christ at 15, 16, 17, 18 years old I just began to spiral into just sinful action and things of that nature. And then something very dramatic happened at age 21. My sister, Sandra, who is one year younger than myself, she was killed in a car accident. She was actually in the Army. She and some friends were out one night while they were [inaudible 00:11:17] the Army and the driver went to sleep as they were coming home, kind of going back to the barracks from their evening out. So, to that juncture I had in my mind that, okay, I’m a Christian I can live, get old, get serious of Christ, I die and go to Heaven. But my sister who died at age 19, just that really rocked my world. It changed my whole perspective on being serious about Christianity and therefore I began to read the Bible. That was the first time I really began to read the bible for myself on a daily basis. Resulting in just me learning more about Christ and just becoming more and more passionate about Christ. So, at age 21 I [inaudible 00:11:56] that situation that took place then around age 24 I was called into the preaching ministry. So, I’ve been preaching ever since. I serve as an associate minister here at Bethel Baptist Church for six years under Reverend Johnny Ware as a ministerial associate. And after which he passed away ... he passed away abruptly from a heart attack nine months later ... the church called me to be the pastor. So, that was 20 years ago. So, I’ve been serving at Bethel for 20 years. >>Kristen Padilla: Dr. Moss? >>Dr. Moss: Yes, again, I want to join my colleagues and say thank you for the opportunity and the privilege to share this morning. I, too, am from a very small little town in [Inaudible 00:12:41], Louisiana. Very, very small town. I graduated from high school in 1969. So, that gives some indication as to what era I grew up in. Busing was nothing new for us. We were bused from the day I was six years old. As it relates to my faith, I would probably, if you would call some of my family and friends, I probably would be listed as the least likely to be sitting here, because as Dr. Beavers said they literally drugged me, and they drugged me for a long time – even when I came to accept the Lord Jesus Christ. There was a dragging. And back then we had the two week revivals. Man, did I hate those two week revivals. So, I had to go back and ask the Lord, “Was I really saved?” Because I got tired of sitting on those benches waiting for something to happen. Some of my colleagues may know what that means. You had to see something back then. But however I came to accept the Lord Jesus Christ as my personal savior and it must have been authentic in that now I don’t have to write on my bio that I love God and I love people. Folks always tell me it’s obvious. So, I bless God for that opportunity to be able to share that with you on today. >>Doug Sweeney: As we mentioned at the top of the show, the purpose of today’s episode on the podcast as well as the two following episodes is to help our listeners learn about the challenges of racism and racial injustice in our society, and in our churches – that we’re all facing these days – but that you all have some special life experience with. Part of the reason we invited you on the show, of course, was to get some advice from you about serving as pastors in this time. But before we get to questions about your own pastoral ministries in the midst of racism and the current racial climate and crisis, we thought we’d ask you to tell us just a little bit about your life stories, your childhoods, and the ways in which you were taught to make some kind of sense of the racial climate in our society. So, would you mind telling us just a little bit about how you were raised with respect to racism and racial injustice? How did your parents teach you to respond to law enforcement? Teach you to make sense of the racial divides in our churches and so on? Could you just share with us a little bit about your life experience as children with respect to racism? >>Dr. Outlaw: Okay. Well, as I said, I grew up in a neighborhood in Baltimore city called Sandtown. Sandtown is the same neighborhood where Freddie Gray was murdered and picked up by police a few years ago. So, I grew up in a predominantly, at that time, Black neighborhood in Baltimore city. Because discrimination was obvious and apparent. I grew up with the notion that ... my mother would say to me, particularly if I would come home and ask her a question as related to racial issues she would remind me by saying, “the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice.” And so that became a mantra for me throughout my journey that whenever I would be confronted with what was blatant racism I would remind myself, “the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice.” And where it became very pertinent in terms of hair styles ... if you had straight hair, or if you were light skinned, then you were considered to be near White. But if you had kinky hair you had to try to accommodate to the White establishment by pressing your hair or perming your hair. I became very familiar with the various hair styles because my mom with an 8th grade education – she became a licensed beautician. And so how it was that I learned to deal with systemic racism was the fact that my mother was very intentional about my getting a quality education. And she would remind me that I would be the first in the family ... I’m an only surviving child ... I had a sister who died long before I was born. I’m the only surviving child. So, learned that even in terms of how language ... our sociologist language, what we call “dysfunctional families, that if your parents were not married that puts you at a disadvantage. While my parents were not married my father was very much a part of my life and very active in my life. And it was through the church that we got a further appreciation of our Black-ness, our Africanity. And so early on I learned that we had to do better than the other race. Even when I was in the convent in my first year there. I’m reminded of Sister Mary [Tias 00:17:40] who was the Librarian. She would say, “Little Sister, you know we’ve got to do better than the White folks.” So, it was always drilled into my subconscious to excel. And the way I’d stand out, from my mother’s perspective, was for me to get a quality education. So, when the opportunity came through testing it was determined that I had certain skills. The schools were desegregated. I went to the junior high school that was across town. I had to catch two buses to go to this accelerated junior high school. And when it was time for me to go to senior high school, by that time school were integrated, junior high, too, but my counselor said she didn’t think that I had what it takes to get into special [inaudible 00:18:23] preparatory program at Easton High School. And in my mind I said to myself, and I said it subconsciously, “Why?” to me. So, while my counselor didn’t think I had what it took to get into that school, I accepted the admission to that and I was the first Black to be in my homeroom class, the only Black throughout my high school years at Easton High School. So, I always look back and remember that in my mind I said, “Watch me.” And that’s been one of my mantras is to “watch me.” And I never allow the circumstances or racism to determine my future. I was always a fighter, even in elementary school. Because I always was in the prinicipal’s office for fighting somebody. So, I learned from my mom that the way out of Sandtown was to get an education. She regretted that she didn’t have the opportunity to finish high school. And my dad he was from North Carolina, Kingston, North Carolina. He finished the third grade, but he was an entrepreneur. He worked on the waterfront as a long shoreman. And he owned his own business in Sandtown. And everybody in Sandtown knew that I was Bud Outlaw’s daughter. And my mother had enough foresight to give me my father’s last name, because even that was breaking with tradition. Because typically if you’re born outside of the covenant of marriage in those days you rarely got your father’s last name. And there was a reason for that, too. Because our last names were given to us by the slave masters and if you had the slave master’s last name, if your father was a Black man or if your father was a White man, particularly if he was a White man, he was a plantation owner, they didn’t want you to have the father’s last name, because then you could lay claim to the land. So, Outlaw is really not my last name. That’s my slave master’s name that was given to my family. I don’t know the name my ancestors who were brought here against their will to these shores. I don’t know what my African name is. But I do know what my slave master’s name is, and my mother gave me my father’s last name. And so I did excel. When I got in the convent that kind of crystalized for me my academic prowess, if you will. Because I had the opportunity to stay focused and to accomplish certain things. Then I came out of the convent in 1968, in response to a call by the president of Loyola College, because when he spoke at our convocation he said, “Go into the city.” The cities were burning when Martin Luther King was assassinated. And I was in the convent and I felt the call to come back out and I came out and became a social worker for a year, and then I pursued my work in psychology and became a psychologist. I also had a double calling because I was called into ministry. Even in elementary school a female evangelist came to our Baptist Church and she [inaudible 00:21:10] in Sunday school and she said that she thought I had a call to ministry because I didn’t think much of it at that time as a youngster, but later after I came to the AME Church, the African Methodist Episcopal Church I had the privilege of crossing paths with that evangelist one night she did a revival at the church where I was attending. And I told her I was the little girl that she had prophesied would be a preacher someday. And so I became a preacher in the African Methodist Episcopal Church, 1982 I accepted my call to preach. >>Doug Sweeney: Thank you. Dr. Bell, I’m looking at you next because I’m thinking you grew up in a pretty different part of the country than Dr. Outlaw grew up in. What was your childhood like when it came to racism in the society, in the church, with respect to law enforcement? >>Dr. Bell: Dr. Sweeney, as I fore stated earlier, I grew up in a little town in West Alabama, Boyd, Alabama. It was a cotton town. It was known for its cotton fields. Actually the Black belt ... Sumpter County is known for its very rich soil. And so my mother, her family was [inaudible 00:22:08]. My mother was one of 17 kids. My grandparents had 17 children. And so the oldest of the 17 ... they were [inaudible 00:22:15] on White landowner’s farms. My grandfather, Willie Carlyle, he was known to be kind of a very aggressive type man. In Sumpter County, back in those days it was nothing for White people ... if a Black person got out of order a White man would actually whip a Black man or his family in the field, in the cotton field, if they were unruly, whatever the case. Well, my grandfather had a name for not being tolerant of White people whipping him or trying to do ... my grandfather didn’t even allow the White owners of the land to even give instruction to his children. So, what he would always say to any person that his family was working for is that if you want to ... on one occasion one White man is going to tell one of my uncles, “I need you to do such and such,” and my grandfather stopped and he said, “Listen, don’t you ever speak to one of my kids about instructing them as to what to do. You tell me what you want them to do and I’ll tell my children what to do.” On one particular situation with my grandfather, Willie Carlyle, he and a couple of his first cousins were plowing a field with an old mule and a busted plow. They were busting up a field for this White gentleman in Boyd. They had been out there plowing, probably since five or six o’clock that morning. It was about midday and so my grandfather and a couple of guys decided they were going to take a break and rest the mules for a moment. Well, by that time the landowner pulled up where they were and the other two guys, gentleman, when they saw the landowner coming they just kind of went right back to work. But my grandfather ... well, we just stopped, and I’m going to take my break. The owner got out of the truck, he said to my grandfather, “Willie, I’m not paying you to let that effing mule sit there. I’m paying you to be working.” My grandfather said, well, we just started taking a break, so I’m just taking my break and we’ll get back to work.” Well, the landowner had another White gentleman with him. So, the man said to my grandfather again, “You need to go ahead and get back to work.” My grandfather said, “Well, give me a few minutes and I’ll get back to work.” And by that time the White gentleman drew back and was going to hit my grandfather. And my grandfather reached in his pocket and pulled out his switchblade and said, “If you swing your hand you’re going to draw back up a [cuss word] nub.” And so the White gentleman that was with the landowner says, and I’m quoting what granddad had told me, this man’s words, so you all excuse the N-word, but the gentleman that was with the landowner said that, “You got a bad N***** up on your place, Mr. [inaudible 00:24:53]. You gotta bad N***** up here.” And so usually when that kind of situation happens in Sumpter County, in west Alabama, because we’re three or four miles from the Mississippi line as well, so there’s just some horrible stories I could tell you about what happened in those days down there. So, any time a situation like that would happen any Black person that was going to stand up against a White person in those days, they knew that that night the Ku Klux Klan, they were going to come get you. And so my grandfather knew what the situation was going to look like. Most people in that kind of situation would actually flee the area and move north or somewhere so that they could live, survive. My grandfather wasn’t going to run. That just wasn’t his MO. And the White gentleman went back and they decided, “Okay, we’re going to go and get this N*****, we’re going to kill this N*****,” is what they had planned to do. But the landowner had better sense that the other White gentlemen who were around the area. Landowner said, “You know what? You all can go up there and get that N*****, try to get that N***** if you want. You can go up there and try to get him, but I’m going to tell you this, that you all will get him for sure but that N***** is going to kill some of you all.” And do you know based on the words of the landowner, that those White guys never came to get my grandfather. And so in my family heritage even though they were [inaudible 00:26:15] my grandfather and his family moved around quite a bit because he was just not one that was going to tolerate White people mistreating his kids, mistreating his family. And his whole stance was birthed from him seeing his mother being drugged out of her house on a rainy morning when she had the flu, when he was three years old. Again, they were living on this White man’s land. My great grandmother, she would cook for this gentleman. And she had to get up at five o’clock every morning and be at his house at five o’clock every morning to start getting things ready and prepared. Well, she had the flu and it was raining and she just felt terrible. And she couldn’t get up. And that White man came down to their house, grabbed her, and drug her out the house, up to his house, so that she could do her work. And at three years old my great grandfather had passed away just shortly after my grandfather was born. So, just that situation was just forever etched in his memory. It was stained in his mind. And so grandad had just a deep hatred, pretty much, for White people. And so with that, just fast forward from granddad and so my mother, she ... as we were growing up on that little small farm there in Sumpter County in Boyd. Our 20 acre plot was surrounded by great large farmers, farms, and we were one of three Black families in that area on that road that actually had property ... the majority of the people that lived on that road that I lived on when I was a boy they were living on White people’s land. And those families actually worked for the White people. I saw just some of the most inhumane treatment. The White landowners, they talk to people who were twice their age, didn’t call them by their names, called them “boy” or whatever. And so it was terrible watching White landowners treat people in the 80s, the 70s and the 80s, I left Sumpter County in 1987. I was born in ’69. It was terrible watching White people treat Black people as though they were slaves on those plots and on those farms. And so I was privileged in my day to not have to live on somebody else’s farm. So, I didn’t have to work for a White person in a hay field or whatever the case unless I wanted to. But most of the young men around in my area, and young women, they had to go and work for White people. Again, my brother who is four years my senior he actually picked cotton. By the time I came along the cotton fields were kind of waning out and they were going to corn and other vegetables or what have you. One last story I’d like to tell you is ... in the area where I lived it was also a large plot of land for hunting. And so there was some great hunting, deer hunting areas, quale hunting, rabbit hunting, et cetera. In the winter time on that road we lived there were going to be people coming from all over the United States there to hunt. On one particular day one of my cousins and I, we were riding our bikes and there were three young White guys and a pickup truck going up to one of the hunting clubs. It just so happened my cousin ... he happened to look back and when he looked back he said ... they called me “bay,” my nickname was “bay.” He said, “Bay, [inaudible 00:29:18].” And by the time I turned those guys were going about 60mph in that truck. They opened the door with the intention of knocking us off ... they probably would have killed us. And so we had to ditch our bikes into a barbed wire fence. And that was the first time that anger welled up in me like never before, Dr. Sweeney [inaudible 00:29:37]. Anger welled up in me and I think that a hate was birthed in me for White people that day that I’ve brought to Jefferson County when I moved here in 1987. And so I couldn’t understand what was in those ... and they were laughing about it. I mean, they never slowed ... kept going. They’re looking back laughing, hanging out the window, out the door ... like, you could have killed us. And then we were cut up from this barbed wire. So, I had that kind of frustration and then another story, that same cousin that I mentioned, his father had been drinking one Sunday. And he and his family they were in the car and the White man’s land that they lived on, this gentleman, he was driving down the dirt road and the White gentleman was coming in the opposite direction, well, the Black gentleman who was driving the car kind of swerved over into the lane and so they hit head on. They weren’t going very fast, but the White gentleman and the man hit head on. So, my cousin, his dad had the wife, three of their daughters, and I think their youngest son in the car with them. This White gentleman got out of his Toyota pickup truck. Snatched the gentleman out of his car. Kicked him in his behind. I’m standing there on my bike. I was standing there looking with my other cousin on his bike. He kicked him in his behind in front of his wife and five or six of their children. In his behind. And said ... he cursed him out, called him all kinds of names, and whatever. So, that just stirred an anger and a fire in me. For the first ... I thought, gosh, if I were big enough, if I were strong enough, I’d kill that man for doing that to that an in front of his family like that. But again, that wasn’t my place. But I will never forget the injury that that did to me as a human being in this place ... again, it’s 70% Black and Black people in Sumpter County own very little of anything. So, we were very impoverished, poor, again, my family was one of the privileged families that we didn’t have very much, my mother again worked at a sewing plant, my daddy worked on the state highway department. So, we didn’t have very much, but again, I was much more privileged than most of the kids who lived in that little town. >>Doug Sweeney: Thank you, Dr. Bell, for sharing those horrible stories with is. I think a lot of White young people in particular just don’t realize how recent some of these evils are in our history. So, I’m grateful to you for sharing those with us. Dr. Moss, how about if we turn to you? And ask what your childhood experience was like with racism. >>Dr. Moss: Let me start with the fact that my dad and mom were actually two individuals who were reared in different cultures. Daddy was always, and his family ... they always owned land. We never lived on any plantation or any White man’s land. My mother was just the opposite. She lived on a plantation. So, she came with different fears, different ... very careful how she walked and how she talked. Because I think, and we never saw it, but I think she had experienced some racism. And some of the things that Dr. Bell had talked about. But my father was always an entrepreneur as well as a land owner. He started with having a logging business and he was indeed a carpenter. And so he had a whole different framework and we were raised in that mindset, because of dad. As it relates to racism, it was very prevalent because it was a time when the Ku Klux Klan was very prevalent. So, what we experienced as children, in particular, my brothers ... that’s why I’m so passionate about the Black male ... they were instructed, time and time again, you cannot go here, son. Because the girls would always stay at home, so we didn’t hear that. You must not talk that way, or you’ll end up in trouble, which meant that my brothers grew up with fierce anger and hated White folk. I didn’t care too much for them either, but I didn’t face what they had to face. And we never had to work outside of the home. So, Ku Klux Klan’s were prevalent. A lot of people in my area were very, very fearful of them. They made themselves known if you went to the store. They clerks will make sure that they wait on them and they’ll engage in long conversations. It was almost like a demeaning of our humanity. And so certainly you’re going through ... look, one of the questions that resonated with me and my family and my siblings, “Why?” Why are we kings and queens at home? I don’t know if you understand this, but daddy always taught us that we were somebody. We were the smartest, we were entrepreneurs ... my grandfather was a blacksmith. So, we had a tad bit of arrogance and I think it was a healthy arrogance. Because it protected us so that when White folk came at us we were ready to spit on them, too. Because they didn’t mean anything to us. But it was built inside of us. My daddy was so adamant about his feelings about who he was and ultimately and subsequently with other Black people. So, we watched daddy move people off of the plantations. I had an uncle who lived on a plantation. And my daddy found him a job. You are better than that. You don’t have to put up with this old man talking to you and you’re 50 years old and they’re calling you “boy.” And so because of that my uncle became a landowner. So, we take great pride in that. It helped us to survive, but it didn’t eradicate racism. It was very prevalent. But even as we began to walk ... I went to a segregated school. I never went to an integrated school. My sister, right behind me, did. And they were saying that they were glad I didn’t have to go. Because I was outspoken. The color of a man’s skin did not stop me from saying what I had to say. Or to do what I had to do. It was drilled in us. And so I guess they say it’s best you stay here, because remember I told you my mom came from a different kind of upbringing. So, that’s pretty much my piece. And I guess when you ask what impact did racism have on my childhood. So, shielded until the only thing that it did for me was to raise questions that no one could answer. And that question was, “Why?” Whether it was my grandmother being called by younger White kids by her first name, I couldn’t understand that. When we were taught to respect and obey our elders. Then you’ve got this little White girl calling you, “Danny.” So, all the way home I’m going, “Grandma, she’s younger than I am. What’s she doing? Why?” So, “why” became ... I still ask, “why.” You know? Because it’s still there. So, basically I came up in that kind of environment. Racism was strong. But we were somewhat shielded. But we had our “why.” >>Doug Sweeney: Dr. Beavers? Last but not least. We’re going to end our episode number one by hearing from you. You are both the youngest member of our panel and you’re somebody who I think grew up in the Birmingham area, a more urban childhood experience. What was your childhood like with respect to racism? >>Dr. Beavers: Yeah, so thank you so much. I’m Black but I grew up privileged. My mom is a judge, she’s a circuit court judge in Jefferson County, Alabama. So, I grew up kind of shielded from racism. My parents taught me about racism. Although they taught me about racism, I was shielded from racism until I became an adult. I remember when I was in the ninth grade, or the eighth grade, and the four officers went on trial for the beating of Rodney King. And I remember all of them getting off, and all of them being acquitted. In spite of that beating, being displayed on video. I remember the LA riots. And that was the first time I had a glimpse of the racism that I was taught that really exists. And so I had a faraway glimpse. And then as I became older and we came into the age of social media I would hear different people dying, unarmed Black men, unarmed Black women, at the hands of White police officers. And I would see people marching around the country. And then there was a phrase #blacklivesmatter. I began to wonder, man, are those people going overboard? Do people really get killed because of the color of their skin? Dr. King marched years ago, you know, does this stuff really go on? Until I remember specifically in the year of 2014, my wife and I took our family to Disney World and we stayed at a condominium just outside of Disney World. One particular morning my wife and I decided to go for a walk around the neighborhood and all of our children and grandchildren, I know I look too young to have grandchildren, but I do. All of them stayed in the condominium. As we’re walking around this neighborhood, just taking a morning stroll, we noticed a helicopter flying around the neighborhood. And the helicopter kept circling the neighborhood. As we continued to walk the helicopter was only circling us. So, we looked up into the sky and the helicopter kind of tilted over. When the helicopter tilted over, as if it was turning, we noticed that it said, “Sherriff.” As soon as we looked back down there were two sheriff cars that came to a screeching halt in front of me and my wife. Two police officers got out of one of car. One Latino police officer got out of the other car. All three of them had guns pulled on my wife, as well as myself. They told us to get on the ground. They told us to turn around. To lay flat on our bellies. They came and they handcuffed us. They detained us. They put my wife in one police car. They put me in another police car. And they detained us for maybe about an hour and 15 minutes. And I remember this neighborhood. It was an affluent neighborhood. And the neighbors started to come out of the house. And the police officers started to give high fives to the neighbors and the neighbors started to high five the police officers. And they were saying, “Yeah, we got ‘em.” So, finally they got us out of the car, after about an hour and 15 minutes. When they got us out of the car we said, “Sir, do you mind telling us what we did?” They said, “Well, there’s been a robbery and a burglary inside of this community and you two fit the description of the person who did it.” And they said, “Obviously, now we know that you didn’t do it, but I want you to know that you fit the description of the person who did it.” The first thing the officer said to me is, “If you run, I am going to taze you.” And I remember just being infuriated. I remember being embarrassed. Because here it is. I’m wondering, as I look on social media, “Do people really get profiled because of the color of their skin?” And it was not until 2014 when I became an adult that what my mom taught me as a child, that racism is alive and well and you will get profiled just because of the color of your skin. And I realized how privileged I was here in Birmingham, Alabama, growing up with a mom who is a judge and a grandfather who was a prominent pastor in the city. When I got away from my privilege. When nobody knew me, when nobody knew my mom, nobody knew my grandfather, I realized that you can get profiled just because of the color of your skin. In that moment it was not about me being right, it was about me living to see the next day. But I quickly saw how these kinds of instances could have gone another way, because I was so infuriated. I did not want to obey the orders of the police officers. I wanted to have choice words with the police officers. There were things I wanted to say. There were things that I literally wanted to do. But I could only think about living to see the next day. But I can also think about how other people who are in the same situation can end up saying something and be right in what they say, but just because you’re right in what you say you could escalate it instead of deescalate it and a situation can go an entirely different way. Later on they Googled me, they found out I was a pastor and they apologized. But after the apology the damage was already done. >>Doug Sweeney: Lord have mercy. Racism is still with us. I think we all know that. And if you didn’t know it a couple of months ago, you certainly know it now if you’re watching the TV news. You have just listened to the first of what will be three episodes of a podcast series here at Beeson Divinity School on racism, racial injustice in the churches. You have been listening to Dr. Patricia Outlaw, Dr. Mary Moss, Dr. Thomas Beavers, and Dr. Calvin Bell. We thank you for tuning in. We promise that in the next episode we will talk about these guest’s experience with racism and racial injustice in society and in the church in their adult lives. So, please do tune in next week. But for now we say goodbye. >>Kristen Padilla: You’ve been listening to the Beeson podcast. Our theme music is written and performed by Advent Birmingham of the Cathedral Church of the Advent in Birmingham, Alabama. Our engineer is Rob Willis. Our announcer is Mike Pasquarello. Our co-hosts are Doug Sweeney and myself, Kristen Padilla. Please subscribe to the Beeson podcast at www.BeesonDivinity.com/podcast or on iTunes.