“On Being Black at Trinity” by Damien Howard

Before Trinity:

Growing up in inner city Chicago, I could not go outside and play with the other neighborhood kids. I had to stay cooped up in a three-bedroom apartment, with six people, because my mom feared that I would get caught up in “mess.” Furthermore, my father was in and out of jail for twenty years, so my mother worked three jobs and was forced to be mom and dad. And yes, I heard gunshots and many police sirens late at night. I even had close friends die in gang warfare. Eventually, my mother moved me to the suburbs for equal access to the “American Dream.”

Due to space constraints, I am obliged to slide past the racism encountered in the suburbs, skip over commenting about the lust and drunkenness that I experienced in college (even as a “church boy”), press past the discomfort I felt all throughout college as the token representative of my race, and focus on the topic at hand.

At Trinity:

I admit I would not trade my TEDS experience for anything. Here at TEDS, I am truly learning how to be a scholar and I thank God immensely for it. The resources I have and continue to acquire, including academic tools and friendships, will be invaluable assets for the rest of my life. Relationships with Trinity staff persons have helped me persevere through academic, emotional, and spiritual “hard times.”

But more about these “hard times.” I sat in Hinkson Hall my first semester thinking, “Trinity is not the place for me.” I had just plowed through four years in a setting that I felt didn’t value me as a person, and I was starting to feel as if Trinity had a similar methodology (i.e. a “contextualized” education that only speaks to the “majority” group). Why did I feel like this? You read my story. Tell me, where in our curriculum are we unpacking how to minister to those hurting Damiens that don’t know daddy? Where is the theological and practical reflection for ministry in the “hood?” Even more frustrating, it seemed like when topics of interest emerged or when African American religious history was mentioned, the discussion was rushed and disturbingly short-lived. I have found and find myself thinking, “what about the pious African American Christian men and women who relied on faith to endure chattel slavery? Is their history less significant than the Edwards and Wesleys of American Religious History? Why don’t the speakers and the worship music in chapel reflect the diversity of the student body?”

With time, I became more equipped to wrestle with these difficulties. The open ears and loving gestures of my FaithAlive and BLT (Black and Latinos @ Trinity) family continue to be a tremendous blessing for me. However, I regret the fact that I know brothers and sisters, here on this campus, who have gone as far as to admit, “Trinity is spiritually depleting.” When I hear such things, my immediate impulse is that something has to change. Though I have been able to create a tight bond with people from all walks of life, here at Trinity I am often reminded, as Cornel West so poignantly articulates, “Race Matters.”

This is my Trinity experience (as an African American male), and often times, I walk around campus thinking about this. “How can we initiate changes to the curriculum, improvements in staffing, and transformation of chapel to better reflect the global church and the diversity represented on campus?” Maybe Trinity’s goal is to primarily minister to the majority population. That may be the case, but my fear is that we will leave campus with a lot of smarts but be totally ignorant to what’s really going on outside of the 2065 Half Day enclave.

The Future:

I pray that our “Beloved Community” will be spurred on to strategically initiate and continually engage in an efficacious change process. I envision Trinity as a true reflection of the diversity celestially celebrated at Pentecost and that will be eschatalogically represented in the “New Jerusalem.” I am excited about our future!