Let the church say, “Amen?”

If it takes a village to raise a child what does it take to educate the village? Can the child in turn awaken the village?

I have been institutionalize for the past six years of my life and for those privilege to not understand what that is like I will explain. Being institutionalized makes an individual feel like they are in a zoo and not strolling in amazement, instead behind a cage where people come over and gaze in awe. Institutions remind you that you do not belong and that nstead of complaining, we should be proud of the privilege to have stepped foot in such an establishment.

Institutions are man-made systems to please and benefit the humans it was created for; therefore, a predominantly white institution caters to white individuals.

I was unaware of these systems for a long time. I grew up in a predominately Black and Latino community where my teachers stayed in the school until 5 or 6pm to help students that needed extra help. The tutoring sessions were sacrifices the teachers made and because of the low-income strata many of them often times fed and drove the children home. I was driven home several times by my fourth grade teachers who stayed for Spelling Bee practice.

In university everything was completely different. I went to a predominantly white institutions often referred to as a PWIs. While in this system, I heared certain areas where athletes of colored convened named the “colored canal.” I also heard professors make distasteful black jokes while in class knowing there where two blacks and one Afro-Latino (myself) fully present. I saw several pictures of black men with “nigger” written on it found in on- and off-campus housing. There was also the Greek party where the attendees had to jump over the fence to enter the Mexican-themed party.

Vent. Rant. Exposure.

I recall having pow-wow meetings with friends of color on campus. We would look at each other and could gauge where the other was emotionally. We took turns encouraging each other saying things like, “don’t punch him, you a semester from graduating.” “It’s ok Hun. If we can make it through this, we are better prepared for corporate America.” “We are paving away for those who are coming after us, the same way the first black student paved a way for us.”

I accidentally entered the PWI that was my university. I was unaware of what it meant to attend a PWI and the oppression that came packaged with the tuition I payed. I managed; Isoldiered through and got my degree.

Now I am an adult and I am fully woke. I can usually spot and sniff out a PWI before I touch the door handles…until I don’t. Sometimes, predominantly white institutions are packaged nicely like the White Contemporary Western Church. This institution like America was not made for people who look like me. As much as I try to twist and turn to avoid the discomforts I tend to find myself on the floor. I find myself either attempting to become comfortable in a seat not created for me or I fall over from trying to twist in turn after every prejudice and hateful statement said in “ignorance.” I used to think it was a Bible Belt problem only to be seen in Southern Churches but the problem is rooted in the birth of this nation.

When it comes to a university I can push through knowing that after a set time they will recognize my achievements because it owes me my degree. However, in the Church there is nothing left to recognize besides the fact that I do not feel safe or seen. I do not feel considered, which scares me as I open up for you to speak into my life, spiritually.

I love the bride, when I consider who she is becoming. In the midst of her process, who she is now, The Church, scares me. It does not feel like home or family the way my elementary school did. I would rather step outside of the four walls and protest against social injustices with the orphans and widows, I tend to see Jesus there more.

I am becoming less and less comfortable worshipping next to “brothers” and “sisters” in Christ who call my blood “brothers” and “sisters” illegal aliens. The Jesus I loved sat next to prostitutes and loved them.

So until the child raised by the village is given permission to shed light, flip systems upside down and stir the pot…I cannot confidently say I will return to be institutionalized again. I am currently still oppressed by America, the larger institution, and that’s already heavy on its own.