What is and is not holy trouble?
What we saw unfold at the Capital on January 6th was not good or holy trouble, and we need to talk about the distinctions.
First, maybe take a moment to breathe. I’m speaking to myself here too. What with attempted insurrections, white supremacists walking the halls of our Capital, plus a pandemic that’s still accelerating, it’s been an incredibly stressful time to be alive and paying attention.
My 12-year-old watched a fair bit of the attack on the Capital happen, and we quickly began talking about why what we saw on Jan 6th was NOT holy or good trouble. One of her first observations was that the mob would have been treated very differently had they not been predominantly white men. I’d like to continue this conversation with you all. I’m still processing, and your thoughts are welcome. Here’s a start on how I’m sussing out the distinctions between holy and unholy trouble, and it's a really appropriate conversation to have as we head into MLK Day weekend.
None of what we saw unfold on January 6th is what the late, great Rep. John Lewis would call good trouble, what his colleague and mentor in the Civil Rights movement, Bayard Rustin, would call angelic trouble, and what I term holy trouble. But all of us are susceptible to thinking we’re acting on behalf of a just cause while we’ve actually been swept up in lies and deceit (another reason why helping the children in our lives know how to check their sources of information, especially online ones, is crucial).
Breaking Unjust Laws
To begin, I’d like to start with an incident in 1942 that Bayard Rustin wrote about:
“Recently, I was planning to go from Louisville to Nashville by bus. I bought my ticket, boarded the bus, and instead of going to the back, sat down in the second seat. The driver saw me, got up, and came toward me.
‘Hey, you. You’re supposed to sit in the back seat.’
‘Why?’
‘Because that’s the law. Negros ride in the back.’ *
I said, “My friend, I believe that is an unjust law. If I were to sit in the back, I would be condoning injustice.’”
This scene repeated at every stop until the driver called the police. When the police officers confronted him and demanded that he move, Bayard said:
“I believe that I have a right to sit here. If I sit in the back of the bus I am depriving that child—“ I pointed to a little white child of five or six—“of the knowledge that there is an injustice here, which I believe it is his right to know. It is my sincere conviction that the power of love in the world is the greatest power existing. If you have a greater power, my friend, you may move me.’”
This was one of many times Bayard was beaten and arrested for resisting injustice. It took great self-discipline and training for him to intentionally and nonviolently break an unjust law. He went on to train many others in the Civil Rights movements how to do break unjust laws in this highly intentional way, and he was a key mentor to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and planned the March on Washington where Dr. King gave his, “I Have a Dream Speech.”
(*Note: The driver used a different word—a slur—that Bayard also wrote, but that I’m editing slightly here. You can read this account in Time on Two Crosses: The Collected Writings of Bayard Rustin.)
Goals and Intentions of Holy Trouble
Holy and good trouble does mean sometimes breaking unjust laws. Holy trouble does mean causing a disruption to the status quo. But the goals and intentions matter. Here are a few questions to help suss out the distinctions:
- What motives are underneath our actions? This question is really the most crucial. As Herb Montgomery, one of the modern-day people profiled in the book said, imagine the story of Jesus overturning the tables of the money lenders in the temple. It’s a really different scene if he wore a MAGA hat versus if he wore a Black Lives Matter hat. Why is that?
- For whose benefit are we acting? Is what we’re doing good news for the most vulnerable in our society?
- Who we are listening to? (Character does matter—someone who bullies, lies, cheats, and brags about doing all of those things will eventually lead us into trouble.)
- What are the fruits of our actions?
- What are our asks? Organized movements have very clear and specific demands. For example, the Black Lives Matter movement has specific asks about investing in community resources rather than ever-higher police budgets, changing the school-to-prison pipeline, and accountability for the police (looking up the specific asks of your local Black Lives Matter chapter could be a great activity).
- How are we asking ourselves questions to try to ensure that we are working for a more just and more loving world for all?
- How do we make sure we are not dehumanizing our opponents, even if they are dehumanizing others? (We cannot become like that we oppose.)
Nonviolent, direct action
Bayard Rustin was committed to nonviolent, direct action as a path to a more just world. Direct action must be sustained over time in community with other people with a shared goal. This isn’t passive at all even if it is committed to nonviolence. In fact, it’s much harder and requires much more training and self-discipline to disrupt the status quo without resorting to violence against people who are being oppressive.
Bayard studied nonviolent resistance from Mahatmas Gandhi. Gandhi’s decades-long, nonviolent campaign opposing British rule in India had succeeded when India and Pakistan became independent. Bayard wanted to immerse himself in the principles of nonviolent resistance that had led to the overthrow of an empire. Nonviolence means more than just not using physical violence. It means taking peaceful action to bring about change, including sit-ins, marches, hunger strikes, boycotts, picketing, and more. Direct nonviolent action disrupts the status quo and eventually makes it impossible to ignore.
People are never the enemy
This is really one of the hardest lessons that Bayard Rustin and others have to teach me. People aren’t seen as the enemy in nonviolent movements; instead, the ignorance that leads to harmful acts is the enemy. Dr. King spoke of the “double victory” being when not only are oppressed people liberated but when the oppressors realize that the systems of oppression they are part of are harmful—even harmful to them.
This is echoed by Valarie Kaur, a modern-day holy troublemaker and Sikh leader also in the book, who leads the Revolutionary Love project and who has been on the receiving end of hate and oppression. She says that the ethic of Love doesn’t mean we have to feel warm feelings towards oppressors; rather, it’s about refusing to dehumanize anyone.
“No one should be asked to feel empathy or compassion for their oppressors. I have learned that we do not need to feel anything for our opponents at all in order to practice love. Love is labor that returns us to wonder—it is seeing another person's humanity, even if they deny their own. We just have to choose to wonder about them.” - From See No Stranger by Valarie Kaur
Holding room for the humanity of even those committing atrocious acts matters even if they deny their own (or ours). It’s how we keep aligned with the larger goals of holy and good trouble.
If you haven’t yet read Bayard Rustin’s story with the children in your life, he is really the North Star for this book, and his profile is one that’s entirely free online for any non-commercial use. You can find it here.
I’d actually love to hear thoughts back as you have these discussions with the children in your life (if you reply to this email, it goes right to my inbox).
Holding hope for us all. And maybe take a nap and drink more water? Living through unprecedented times is exhausting.
With much love,
Daneen Akers, author Holy Troublemakers & Unconventional Saints