Good Morning My Dear Haviland Community!
Happy Martin Luther King Day!
As our Haviland Community walked toward this day, I have been reading an insightful book authored by Anna Malaika Tubbs: The Three Mothers: How the Mothers of Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, and James Baldwin Shaped a Nation. We all know how Dr. King's work profoundly bent the moral arc of the universe towards social justice, equity, and peace for all. Tubbs' book, however, centers the meaning of his life on another human reality through the eyes and experiences of Alberta King, his beloved mother. Her lens shifts our gaze to a reality that we all should be mindful about: Dr. King was someone's child. Please sit with that thought for a moment and think deeply about the layers of what that means.
One of the stories I particularly liked in the book recounted Alberta's experience of being with her son as he was about to be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize (pg. 160-161):
The day arrived: December 10, 1964. Alberta's son was about to become the youngest man and only the second African American to receive the most prestigious award on the planet. Her strong and curious boy had taken the lessons she'd instilled in him, combined them with his own experiences and education, and made an indelible mark on his community, his country, and all of humanity. Before leaving their hotel on that cold morning, Alberta busied herself to keep from crying. She looked at Martin and decided to focus on his clothes. The knot in his tie needed to be perfect, so she fiddled with it until it looked just right. She brushed his shoulders with her hands, making sure there were no wrinkles in his formal morning suit.
Later that day, the King family would sit at the grand event in the Aula Hall at Oslo University, among a sea of white faces. Alberta could no longer keep from crying. She let the tears fall down her cheeks as her son spoke: "I accept this award today with an abiding faith in America and audacious faith in mankind."
I wonder how often we think about Dr. King as somebody's child — the pride his mother felt, the fear she lived with, the terrible losses she endured?
This book reminded me, once again, that everyone is someone's child. Think about this for a moment. How different would this world be if we lived life everyday respecting this human reality — if those who took the lives of Dr. King, Ahmaud Arbery, and George Floyd had perceived them as someone's child — a fact that absolutely everyone in this world has in common.
Could we perhaps start from this common feature of humanity in how we think about and treat each other? There are many ways to honor Dr. King's legacy, but one of them is to recognize the humanity of everyone we encounter. We are ALL somebody's child.
In "audacious faith in mankind,"
Dean Burton