This is an age, in America, when to see people teaming across an open space that is not a ball field, is to see protest – most likely on the news, in a far away place. New York, Oakland; Cairo, Tunis; Barcelona, Athens; Delhi. Or perhaps it is the bustling crowd under the sodium light of a parking lot, in the wee hours after Thanksgiving dinner has been packed into the refrigerator. Waiting for this year's must-have bargain.

This past Wednesday I was proud to take part in a banquet event on the theme of "Embracing Unity," sponsored by the non-profit Grand Prairie Unity Coalition, of which I am a new Board member. This was the 7th such banquet, which brought together people from many like-minded organizations, local / county / state politicians, and most importantly, around 40 students and family from the local school district. The organization's mission is to provide education and opportunities for cross-cultural association to the Grand Prairie community, and that mission was admirably pursued with Wednesday's event.

A particular comment in Louis Gregory's biography struck me as illustrating the combination of personal responsibility and material detachment in Reinhold Niebuhr famous prayer, "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, And wisdom to know the difference."

It was about three years ago, while attending a conference at Green Acre Bahá'í School in Eliot, Maine, that I had the bounty of making a sunrise pilgrimage to the burial site of Louis Gregory, Hand of the Cause of Bahá'u'lláh. At the time I knew little about him – that he was an early African-American adherent of the Bahá'í Faith, a fantastic and tireless teacher, well-loved by 'Abdu'l-Bahá, and thanks to the Master’s encouragement, one-half of perhaps the first black/white Bahá'í marriage in the U.S.

Jimmy Carter says opposition to Obama is based in racial attitudes. New York Times columnists debate: David Brooks says no, it is based in populism. Bob Herbert says yes it is racism. Charles Blow responds that, if nothing else, it should be obvious to us all that race is still a problem in America. While Brooks's assessment about populism is probably accurate, he is clearly overlooking the consistent racial character of populist movements, and a number of obviously racist attacks on Obama (see Herbert; also pointed out by E.J. Dione on NPR Friday afternoon). Moving beyond the politics of it, what does all of this signify about American culture, and about the continuing struggle for people of color to be afforded an equal opportunity?

In 1938, Shoghi Effendi, Guardian of the Bahá'í Faith, sent a remarkable "letter" to the Bahá'ís of the United States and Canada, titled Advent of Divine Justice. Although he did not, to my knowledge, ever visit North America (1), his diagnosis of the spiritual and moral illnesses of this land were, and remain, uncanny.

Among the issues addressed, he directly challenged the racial status quo in America. In a time of Jim Crow and segregated meetings – even amongst many of the Bahá'ís (2) – the Guardian declared, "As to racial prejudice, the corrosion of which, for well-nigh a century, has bitten into the fiber, and attacked the whole social structure of American society, it should be regarded as constituting the most vital and challenging issue confronting the Bahá'í community at the present stage of its evolution." (3).

While discussing sexism with my wife, there have been a number of times where I've said "I just don't see it" — meaning either that I literally have never seen the behavior in question, or that I didn't see the interpretation being given. To the first meaning there is a clear rebuttal: its easy to miss something that doesn't affect you (that is, affect me, the guy in the room). With respect to the second, one aspect is that I both don't give enough credit to most people to be deliberately coming up with many of the examples of sexism I've heard about, and I generally assume innocence of motive.

Well, Shakesville's Feminism 101: "Sexism is a matter of opinion" does an excellent job in pointing out the flaws in this naïve analysis, including the use of an excellent Matrix-metaphor. The whole thing is worth reading, but one particular paragraph stuck with me, partially because it applies equally well with the issue of racism:

Let me quickly stipulate and clarify that one can unintentionally express sexism. That innocent intent, or ignorance of the history of how women have been marginalized, does not, however, in any way change the quality of what was being expressed. Something can still be expressed sexism even if the speaker's intent was not to oppress women. And particularly if it does fit neatly into a historical pattern, it necessarily conjures that pattern of sexism, intentionally or not.

I'm on a conference call about facilitating interfaith dialogues on the topic of non-violence in religion. I'm multi-tasking as I listen to the introductions; if you've been on many conference calls you'll probably understand the need for multi-tasking.

I wanted to write some useful introduction, but its just not there. So instead, I'll just point you to an interesting op-ed, Jena, O. J. and the Jailing of Black America, and share an extract:

Until we view this social calamity [black incarceration rates] in its entirety — by also acknowledging the central role of unstable relations among the sexes and within poor families, by placing a far higher priority on moral and social reform within troubled black communities, and by greatly expanding social services for infants and children — it will persist.

I've been thinking about writing about the Imus thing since I heard about it. Hesitated not just because of time, but because its so overdone. Well, even though I know they'll never know it, I want to thank NBC and CBS (and their advertisers) for doing the just thing and removing Imus from the airwaves and twisted copper cables.

The New York Times writes about the Uncle Ben's company's new advertising campaign, featuring "Uncle Ben" as the chairman of the company. I had no idea that "Uncle" was a racially biased way of getting around calling someone "Mister". I figured the butlerish image wasn't all on the up-and-up, but it has more negative connotations than I realized.

Over dinner tonight my wife and I were talking about the paucity of major news coverage of women's rights and justice. In the U.S., it seems that you are more likely to find an in-depth look at the current status of women in Afghanistan in a "fashion" magazine than in Newsweek or the other news weeklys. That is definitely a sad state of affairs. We talked about how so many people seemed to have felt that the plight of women was instantly and completely rectified after the overthrow of the Taliban.

Photo used by permission of Flickr user lakerae

"In short, Rosa Parks didn’t make a spur-of-the-moment decision. She didn’t single-handedly give birth to the civil rights efforts, but she was part of an existing movement for change, at a time when success was far from certain." So says Paul Loeb in his article The Real Rosa Parks. His description of the movement for racial justice in America, as exemplified by its leading lady, Rosa Parks, offers many lessons for other would-be movements, including the Interfaith Movement.

For years I have heard people declare that there is "no such thing as race" and been uncomfortable with that bold declaration. While the intentions are pure — by removing race, one ostensibly removes the reasons for discrimination — and science has by and large agreed, I've always asked myself: "if there is no such thing as race, how come I can tell with 99% certainty what continent, and often what region, almost anyone's ancestors come from?" In the op-ed A Family Tree in Every Gene, evolutionary biologist Armand Marie Leroi takes on this notion by demonstrating the biological evidence for race and the modern medical and sociological implications thereof.