"But that's none of my business."

I wrote a couple emails to people at the church this morning, saying I wouldn't be back. 
I'd thought of all sorts of Things I Could Say (as in, 'points I could score'), but decided to keep it simple. 
They are who they are, nothing criminal!––and since I'm leaving. . .
 that's none of my business.

Know the Kermit drinking tea meme? Where you say something cutting, and then insist, but that's none of my business? 
It's old, but it's still around. Like so:

The first person I wrote to is a neighbor I'd previously met on the express bus to the university, where she teaches. 

I'd liked her, and she works in a field I'm very interested in--public health--so I'd been excited to see her in church.
Now I won't see her there, I decided to ask if she'd like to meet for coffee. Though she seems like someone who must be super busy (with kids), I found her email at the U and wrote and asked her.

Then I wrote to the pastor.
 I did want to hint that they have a slight problem with their messaging. They say they value diversity, but they clearly signal that they are All One Culture with shared ancestry:
 "Our ancestors forced [Native people] from their lands."

Yesterday the pastor had talked about John Hughes's 1985 movie The Breakfast Club. 
How many people had seen it, he asked.
Most people raised their hands. 
Me too.

"There's a reason we're all here," he said, and everybody laughed. 
Me too.
 
His sermon's theme was "The Spiritual Practice of Remembering", and  his point about the movie was its theme song: 
"Don't You (Forget About Me)" by Simple Minds.

WE ARE COMMUNITY (?) because we share this reference, I guess.  (This is the guy who wants to replace the cross with a communion table.)

And that is, in fact, my demographic--People Who Have Seen John Hughes Films When They Came Out. 
But I really don't want to build on it as a valued piece of my culture.

What I wrote to the pastor:

Hello,
 I'd introduced myself before yesterday's Sunday service (I'd mentioned reading about Roger Williams), and I'd asked about joining an inquiry group.

I'm afraid I spoke too soon. I've enjoyed visiting your church, everyone was very warm and welcoming,

 but in some important places the church and I aren't a good fit, and I won't be returning.

I did want to share a little story first, though. 
I had laughed yesterday when most of the congregation signaled that they had seen The Breakfast Club. 
Me too! 
I'm no longer used to being in the majority with movie references.  

I work at a thrift store in the armpit of Lake Street, and as a middle-class white person, I am in the minority there. But it took me a long time to stop seeing my standards as the norm, and movie references helped me figure that out.

Back in 2018, my manager, [Big Boss], a Black man from south of Chicago, told me about a movie he had rented from Red Box for his little kids, mistakenly thinking it was a Winnie the Pooh story. 
It was a biopic for adults-- Christopher Robin––and he thought I might like it.

I asked who was in it, and he didn't know; so I googled, saw Ewan McGregor, and said, 
"Oh, sure--he's the guy who played Obi-Wan Kenobi".

"Who's that?" he said.

"You know, from Star Wars," I said.

Blank stare.
My coworker Roger, an older Black man who was standing nearby said,  
"Fresca, you're talking to the wrong people."

We all laughed, and I loved that.

[End email to pastor]

This church wouldn't have been a good fit for me even before 2018, but it's extra wrong since the thrift store blew up so many of my assumptions.
I had genuinely believed that everyone knew Star Wars, at least a little, but it's just not part of the culture of my Black coworkers. (Except the Black nerds!)

Star Trek, however, is. It strove to be racially diverse from the very beginning, in 1966. Uhura was a proud Black woman in a visible command position (even though she rarely got to DO anything).

That same coworker, Roger, who'd told me I was talking to the wrong people had once asked me, "What was your gang?"
He'd grown up in Chicago in gangs, so I wasn't sure what he meant, but I said, 
"I was a Trekkie. Still am!"

And he BURST out in a wail,
 "Captain Kirk, I wanna have yo' baaaaby!"

This is from an actual song "Captain Kirk" (1997)--by rapper Master P.  
Parental Advisory! 

Star Wars, however, was and has remained White Boys in Space, even when they shoehorn a Black character in, they are never developed.

John Boyega, a Black actor who played Finn in the 2015–2019 Star Wars trio, said...

"Star Wars always had the vibe of being in the most whitest, elite space. This is a franchise that's so white that a Black person existing in that was something. 
You can always tell it's something when some Star Wars fans try to say,
 'Well, we had Lando Calrissian and had Samuel L. Jackson.' 

That's like telling me how many cookie chips are on the cookie dough. 
I'm like, 'They just scattered that in there, bro!'"
--via 
______

So, I found the church to be nice, well-meaning white folks who make some new noises but do the same things. 
More Star Wars than Star Trek.

This is extremely normal behavior--
it's certainly not specific to this or any other church. It doesn’t help when the people are all older, either.

But really & truly, that's none of my business.
I want, I intend to keep boldly going, Exploring Strange New Worlds. 
Like... knitting groups!  : ) 
_______________________

 P.S. Important to note: 
I am NOT meaning to imply the church is racist. 
                               No.
I mean to say it is stodgy and unimaginative.

John Hughes? Come on, people.