By Scott Yi

I had growing concerns about my church.

At one time, it had been the organizing center around which my entire life had revolved: spiritual, social, and even professional. For a few years I was hired on as an assistant pastor, helping to foster the growth of the church during a fertile season when it seemed like everyone in the city was interested in seeing what our congregation was doing. People were drawn to an expression of Christianity that was aesthetic yet intimate, inviting but demanding, creative yet unpretentious. We attracted a diverse gathering of college and grad students that made up almost half of our community, while our outreach programs were very much focused on building connections within the adjacent neighborhood, such as an art club for minority kids and a mentoring program for refugee families. I had actually believed that I was going to grow old and base my entire ministry career within this church community.

But that was before the new “vision” the head pastor had sprung on all of us. He had moved our headquarters away from the inner city to a new location that was situated right next to the highway, isolated from the local neighbors. Less support was structured around college students as accommodations instead prioritized young white suburban families commuting in from outside the city. With the change of the demographics came a swift change in the composition of our ministry leaders and volunteer coordinators. I soon became the only person of color serving in any sort of leadership capacity, shocked at how much the community had regressed in our cultural makeup. For many years we had championed ourselves as a multicultural reflection of the early New Testament church, but to call ourselves that now would be laughable. After all the success that our diverse resources had helped to cultivate, we were now a white church.

I emailed my reservations to the lead pastor, underscoring how terrible it felt to find myself in the position of the token minority. I didn’t want my presence to give the appearance of inclusiveness, when policies were so clearly heading in the other direction. As a onetime staff member, I encouraged the pastors to exercise self-reflection and try to formulate long-term strategies that would allow people from other cultures to feel like they can have a seat at the table. There was a reason why so many young people had at one time been excited to be part of this community, and I wanted the church to go back to those principles of openness and equality and collaboration. It was still possible, I told myself.

But when I read the pastor’s reply, it finally dawned on me that nothing would ever change–because I realized what I was actually dealing with was a white supremacy culture. Instead of taking my advice to heart, advice that had always been heeded since it came from someone who cared deeply about the lifeblood of our community, I was harshly rebuked and pigeonholed as an agitator. I was suddenly the bad guy. In the senior pastor’s mind, a good flock is one that is submissive and “easy to lead,” but now I was a suspicious outsider sowing devilish seeds of discord. My words were “laced with distrust” and if I couldn’t give my full, unadulterated blind trust to the elders, then there was something implicitly wrong with me and my theology. And of course, there was gaslighting [1] involved. My own feelings of tokenism didn’t matter because they were “insulting” to the pastor, who prided himself on selecting leaders based on character. “Color of skin is not a factor,” he wrote, which set off even more alarm bells in my head. After the exchange, my wife and I were invited to continue the conversation in person with the elders, which we were more than willing to oblige. With more thoughtful voices in the room, we felt that we could help facilitate a more fruitful discussion about positive steps toward an intentional model of multicultural leadership... but it turned out to be a bait-and-switch. The pastor called to order this “disciplinary hearing,” and we could tell from the tone in his voice that he was ready to kick us out of the church if we didn’t do everything to plead for forgiveness.

A lot of people are in the same boat I had found myself in back then: captive to a white supremacy culture without even knowing it–it seems like no one ever notices it until something goes wrong. One might argue that accusations of white supremacy are severe and unwarranted, as no congregation would ever willingly self-identify as an elitist and oppressive institution. But white supremacy culture is a different thing: culture is pervasive, subconscious, and when left unnamed, insidious. I wish I had the language back then to call out all the underhanded ways in which white supremacy culture had undermined our supposedly Gospel-based lifestyle. But the least I can do now is share what I’ve learned [2] so that others might be more equipped than I was to make healthy choices regarding who they give spiritual authority to.

In simplest terms, white supremacy culture is the ideology that white people and the ideas, beliefs, and actions of white people are superior to people of color and their ideas, beliefs, and actions. If you are unsure whether your church’s culture is based around the principles of white supremacy, here are four main characteristics to be on guard against:

1. EXPECTING PERFECTIONISM

Churches that expect perfectionism are usually very hierarchical and authority-driven, where the most important decisions are made from the top-down instead of from the bottom up. There is only “one right way” to do things, often to the point of stubborn dogmatism. It is difficult for the community to learn from mistakes because with perfectionism comes a persistent apprehension to perform and to “look the part” of evangelical cleanliness and respectability. Individual behavior is scrutinized, while collective growth is ignored. The lead pastor is viewed as the exemplar of moral perfection against which all others are measured.

2. CONCENTRATION OF POWER

Decision-making abilities are hoarded by those at the top, to such an extent that suggestions for change are viewed as threatening and even unbiblical. Paternalism runs rampant as leaders insist they know what’s best for everyone, often without even consulting those who are most affected by policy decisions. Elders and pastors expend significant energy on defensive posturing, such as by explaining away abuses and restricting avenues where people might actually feel heard.

3. THE HAPPY MAJORITY/SILENT CONFORMITY

A community whose norms are predominantly established by the class of privilege will try to avoid open conflict and evade issues that feel uncomfortable or too complex. Whenever minorities call out discriminatory behaviors, they often become the subject of investigation themselves and are scapegoated as troublemakers. Honest inquiry never leads to any meaningful examination of organizational shortcomings. Leaders will claim a superior vantage point of “objectivity” in order to win arguments, contrasting their supposedly neutral approach against the emotional volatility of minority protesters. Changes usually amount to quick-fix solutions that temporarily appease church members so that programming can get “back on track.”

4. PROGRESS IS MORE/BIGGER

Church growth is weighed in quantitative terms (members and tithing), while the pastor ironically espouses the importance of qualitative growth (discipleship and faithfulness) from the pulpit. Under the capitalist assumption that bigger is always better, church workers feel a constant sense of urgency to produce visible results – making it difficult to ever take the time to become more inclusive or improve decision-making processes. Burnout is common as everyone endures an underlying pressure and ambition that their church ought to look more “successful.”

A cursory look at the narrative arc of the Bible will easily show us that expecting perfectionism, concentrating power, conforming to the majority, and desiring material success are completely antithetical to the Way of Jesus. There are too many biblical passages to list here as my counterexamples, so I’ll just conclude with this: Luke 12:2 says that “Nothing is covered up that will not be revealed.”

Part of the reason why white supremacy culture in the church has been pervasive for so long is because its contours have been unnamed for so long, hidden under the facade of religious devotion. It is my hope that naming the sins of white supremacy culture will wake up my brothers and sisters to a better way of living out God’s Kingdom here in the 21st century. But even after hidden things have come to light, sincere Christians often do choose to remain with their oppressive institutions, having convinced themselves that there’s nothing better out there or that God has appointed them to stay to somehow be a part of the solution. I have many unhappy friends who chose to go this route. Fighting oppression is a worthy calling for all who seek to live like Jesus, but please don’t make the mistake of confusing your enemies with your friends. You can’t receive your emotional support and your courage from the very same source that is traumatizing your spiritual identity. Springs of eternal life (John 4:14) don’t come from the same ground that’s been contaminated with oil. Find the people of God who will love you and accept you with your imperfections; the people of God who are sacrificing their privileges and their possessions; the people of God who walk above the turmoil of this world with a supernatural peace in their hearts because they understand deeply that progress is not bigger or better–progress is a mustard seed. When we’ve all found each other, then the invisible Body of Christ will at last be manifest.

Notes

[1] Gaslighting is a term based on a 1944 movie where a man manipulates his wife by causing her to question her own perception of reality.

[2] The following list is adapted from the workbook White Supremacy Culture in Organizations by the Centre for Community Organizations in Montreal.

Scott Yi lives in Providence, Rhode Island, where he writes and teaches literacy to underserved populations. Scott is a former medical student, former pastor, and current cat dad.