Soldier of Love

Here is the reflection Camielle shared at the Awakening last Sunday. The service was a follow-up to Saturday’s Diversity and Economic Development conference, which our church sponsored in partnership with Missouri State University, Drury University, the NAACP and the Gathering. The lectionary text from Sunday (Luke 13:31-35) highlighted the reactions that Jerusalem offered to the prophets who dared to speak to the powers that be, and I asked Camielle to share her perspective about what it’s like being an African-American woman living in Springfield, which is of course a city which has also been very resistant to change (to provide some added context for those who may not be familiar with Springfield: Springfield is the second least diverse city in the country with a population over 100K, and it has a history of being incredibly unwelcoming to ‘minorities’, to put it mildly).

Soldier of Love
by Camielle Famous

As some of you know, I am in the middle of pursuing my Master’s degree in Counseling and I really enjoy the program. Last semester, I took a course about Diversity in Counseling. It was extraordinarily trying. I felt this sense of urgency that did not register with many people in the class. As a matter of fact, the only other person who understood my impatience was another black female. So I decided to meet with my advisor. I vented about all of my struggles and frustrations with the class and then it spread to my general feelings about living in Springfield. McGregor, Greenwood Lab GA Interview, The Mall, the church (you should visit…).

Why am I here? I ask myself that question every week, if not every day. I have no relatives here. Friends come far and few in between. There isn’t a place for me to get my hair done the way I like, a radio station that plays music I like, concerts I want to attend, St. Louis style Chinese food, or doctors privy to the African American skin… My mom says to me just come on home. Come back to your family. We are here; we can help you and the kids. As I said all of this, my advisor listened patiently and replied, “Camielle take care of yourself. You are needed here. We need you here.” I thought the comment quite odd, but as the semester progressed it began to make sense.

I always thought I was born in the wrong generation. I am enamored with the 1960s: the fashion, strong communal values, music, and especially the civil rights movement. For some reason, the moment I was made aware about it, I read as much as I could about it. I watched videos, read poetry, and researched books about this period in time where people, my people your people our people gathered together in the name of a cause to bring equality and justice that had been reneged upon during the reconstruction. It was amazing. I could feel through the screen and the pages of the books: the passion and pain, laughter and tears, celebrations and incarcerations. I wanted so badly to be a part of that legacy. I mean too many have no clue as to what our ancestors went through to give us an opportunity to simply read, learn, and vote. I would imagine myself walking next MLK Jr. or singing songs while on the bus during Freedom Summer. I think I could have really made a difference if I was born back then.

But then again, God makes no mistakes. I am here to serve a purpose. Out of all the places in the country I could have been, I am here. But, WHY? You know, in so many ways the struggles I encounter here in 2010 Springfield are ominous to the past I so closely identify. Just about every day the fox whispers in my ear “Get away from here.” Your work in the NAACP is reverse racism. All you care about is black folks. It’s just like the KKK. White people aren’t welcome. Hey, there is no need to participate in the Anti Racism Pro Reconciliation Team because there is nothing to reconcile. We get along just fine. We don’t see color, everyone has a fair chance. One of my best friends is black. We have a black president! Sometimes I just want to scream. Behind your crafty words and empty smiles lies an unsightly truth. I am not blind to the stares and backhanded comments. I am very aware when someone attempts to pet my children. I know the reasons why my baby does not want to come to Wednesday night activities and I cry. My heart is broken. There is a song by Sade that speaks to my spirit. She sings:

I’ve lost the use of my heart
But I’m still alive
Still looking for the life
The endless pool on the other side
It’s a wild wild west
I’m doing my best

I’m at the borderline of my faith
I’m at the hinterland of my devotion
In the frontline of this battle of mine
But I’m still alive

I’m a soldier of love.
Every day and night
I’m soldier of love
All the days of my life

I am here because there is work to be done. Listen, I am trying to cast out demons of ignorance and oppression through diversity trainings, discussion panels, and one on one coffee talks. I seek to perform cures on the minds and spirits of the minorities who have been cut by the shrapnel of racism. I am not here because I want to be, but because I NEED to be. I am a SOLDIER OF LOVE.