The Comfort of Victimhood
(Jeanine’s Truth)
There are so many lessons from this process already–some of which make me feel guilty and conflicted. You see, there is a certain safety in being a “victim” in this entanglement of race and racism in America. It keeps me from having to be accountable. It keeps me from having to be understanding and compassionate. It affords me justification to deny or ignore the humanity of my “adversary/oppressor”. It is self-serving, and, if I am completely honest with myself, it feels good. But I guess the real question, the hard question is at what/whose expense does this comfort come? Do I want comfort more than I want change and community? Am I willing to become what it is that I see and loathe in “them”? Am I willing to slowly sip the seemingly soothing poison of hate/fear/indifference? Or am I truly willing to do what it takes to be free?
When I visited the Rwandan Genocide Memorial Museun in Kigali, one of the things that totally blew my mind was learning that it was the oppressed group who carried out the genocide. It was the group who had suffered countless decades of discrimination and injustice who mercilessly slaughtered men, women, and even children. They turned against neighbors, friends, and even family members in what they felt was their way to liberation. Their victimhood was exploited by the French who were motivated by imperialistic greed. The Hutu sipped the poison fed to them under the guise of liberation–a poison that I am sure felt soothing but that slowly transformed them into the very thing from which they were seeking liberation. The comfort of their victimhood lured them in and then turned them into monsters. It turned them into everything that their oppressors accused them of being. In the end, the Hutu did not even recognize who they had become and there was no turning back.
“…there is a certain safety in being a “victim” in this entanglement of race and racism in America. It keeps me from having to be accountable. It keeps me from having to be understanding and compassionate. It affords me justification to deny or ignore the humanity of my “adversary/oppressor”.
Another lesson from Kigali that continues to resonate with me is how they were able to pick up the pieces and rebuild themselves into one of the most beautiful, peaceful nations in Africa and even the world. It is hard to fathom any way forward after the genocide. How on earth do you ever trust again, how on earth do you ever find peace, and my god, how on earth do you ever find it in your heart to forgive?! How is community even possible after something so unimaginable? In Rwanda, there was reckoning, restitution, and rehabilitation. From there was reconciliation, and more importantly, the reconstruction of the Rwandan identity. None of this was possible without truth and repentance. Confession was crucial. Accountability was non-negotiable. No one disputed what had happened. The evidence was all around. What they focused on was telling their truths–both the Hutus and the Tutsis. And the only way for truth to be spoken to power is for victimhood to be released, for hearts to be open, and for the desire for community to supersede the desire for comfort.
And so, the question, the hard question remains: What do I want more–comfort or change and community? And if it is the latter, am I willing to release my victimhood and make space for truth? Right now, at this very moment, my truth is that I am not always 100% sure. So, on the days when I am sure, I will build community and I will push for change. And, on the days when it all feels like too much, I will rest.
