Tracie Spencer and a Love for America

John Coltrane’s, A Love Supreme, has been the soundtrack for this project. It has been a fittingly melodic and chaotic companion.

Happy 250th to the United States of America.

During the summer of 1988 I fell in love with Tracie Spencer, an older woman at that, she was 12 and I was 11. Who is that, you ask? Tracie was (is) a RnB / Pop artist. Her song, Symptoms of True Love, not only was it my favorite song in the world, but it described my feelings for her. I watched her music videos hundreds, if not, thousands of times - and this was back when you had to rewind tapes.

Nonetheless, I was undeterred by the struggle.

My family went down to Tampa that summer and one of the items I took was the Tracie's album, which on its cover had, a large portrait of her face. When I slept, the album -- this is a little embarrassing to admit -- rested next to me on a pillow. When I left for the day, the album was placed safely on her pillow.

I later got in trouble with my parents as I'd called #411 to get the number of the recording studio in Iowa, where she recorded her album. I called and (lied) told them that I was the president of her fan club and I we sought her contact info. The guy on the phone, politely declined.

I never succeeded in making contact with Tracie Spencer. Despite the depth and nature of my real feelings, I'd never met her. I didn't know her at all. Ultimately, I was infatuated with the idea of a person I'd never met.

It wasn't until Bible college and life in Chicago when I began to learn about truths about the treatment of my people, which defied the stories I'd been given through high school. That hurt. I'd also met students who told me of America's foreign policy in action in their countries. And of the coups we orchestrated. And of the despots and dictators we helped put into power. This defied the history I'd given through high school.

Despite the nature and depth of my real feelings, I didn't know my country that well. Ultimately, I was infatuated with the idea of a nation that didn't exist.

Like so many of my fellow Americans, I was taught of our noble heritage and of the purity of our Founding and of the perfection of our Declaration of Independence and Constitution. We people were without peer. Chattel enslavement was a mere footnote and a moral accident by deeply moral people. Genocide of the indigenous was never spoken of.

It became aware to me that If America's mother is freedom and liberty our father is genocide and slavery. Like many other nations, we weren't birthed in innocence. It's just that too often we deny who our father really is. We are afraid to look into the mirror because some days we look like our mother and other days just like our father.

I've had countless numbers of conversations on race, racism, and American history and life with countless numbers of white folks - it's been part of my work and civic life for a number of years. On occasion one of them tells me about many in their broader friend and family networks. "They don't know and they don't want to know." Meaning, they don't care to know about how their America has treated non-whites past or present.  

Let's just say, that one day I met Tracie Spencer and we hit it off. And, as we were growing closer, she begins to share the pains of her life, what's been done to her, what she's done to herself, and what she's done to others. And, I say, "I don't know and I don't want to know". What would we call this? This isn't an act of love, its rejection.

I try to be careful about making absolute statements, unless I'm quite sure, and with this I believe that I am:

Most of the Americans who claim to love America the most know the least about America. They are infatuated with the myth and fantasy of a nation that has never actually existed. They don't want their kids or any school anywhere to teach about the evils of our nation with any depth, or at all. They want the books that tell a fuller and fairer American story banned from libraries. They don't know and they don't want to know.

This isn't love for America this is rejection of America.

Maybe, they are afraid that if they learned the fuller and fairer story of America, they'd grow to hate the country? Or maybe they don't know how to hold it all together in their hearts and minds - freedom and liberty and genocide and chattel slavery?

We cannot love what we do not know.

Speaking as one who's put in work (not complete) to learn a fuller and fairer story of America, there were times when had to put the article down or stop the documentary or pulled over the car and turned off book. The shock, grief, and shame were overwhelming.

There were also times of joy when I learned about the secret struggles and success of those who were not yet free. Or, of those who set their captives free. Or, of those who somehow believed and loved a nation that did not love them back. I was also blessed to walk alongside others who were in the midst of their work of learning more. And there were elders and guides who illuminated the journey.

We can't make someone love us back. There is nothing in the Declaration of Independence of Constitution about America's love for its citizens or its citizens love for it. There is often a quick national disposition to bully or heckle Americans who may not love America.

Love must be given freely. Maybe, we can offer curiosity instead of a demand for loyalty. Maybe, for some they've found a way to love their neighbor and their community while struggling to love our powerful, yet imperfect nation.

We are not well and this sickness began a long time ago. And like an arthritic who senses when the rain is on its way, many of us feel that more violence is to come if we don’t out wrestle our demons.

We are not what we once were, but we are not yet what we can be. It’s not too late for us to set aside the untruths of old and take up the liberating burden of accepting the truth of our national story and legacy of our original sins. It may be that the future of America depends upon us reckoning with the implications of the past upon the present.