A post popped up again in my Facebook feed today which I felt compelled to comment on, given some recent troubling conversations (follow thread below). My journey toward healing continues...
8 April 2018
This all still holds true...and...I continue to heal. What is troubling me now is that a few people have recently shared that at the upcoming UUGA, this whole mess is going to be publicly re-framed as a white supremacy/racism issue because the new President is a woman of color.
I hope what I’ve been told isn’t true.
This re-framing would completely ignore the fact that the issues raised in the letter were predominantly criticisms of the outgoing President, a white woman, and problems with the school itself, many issues which had been raised during the tenure of her presidency, and long prior to the current President’s appointment.
Re-framing these events in such a way would certainly provide an easy way to sweep everything under the rug under the guise of casting those most harmed by the actions of SKSM as racists and supportive of white supremacy culture.
It would also make it easier to explain the avoidance of addressing the serious issues raised in the anonymous email—issues that the former SKSM Board Chair publicly promised would be addressed...immediately prior to re-framing and re-focusing all attention on students and faculty he felt may be involved or who he felt might know who was involved. A promise that has, to this day, not been kept.
I certainly acknowledge that I will *always* struggle with the many ways I have participated in and supported white supremacy culture. This is something all white people born and raised in this country must do if we have any chance of dismantling it.
I also know that my decision to not turn over my emails and computer had nothing to do with who was appointed President and everything to do with upholding confidentiality and my unwillingness to relinquish a very important constitutional right.
For the record: I was not involved *in any way* with the anonymous email. The person involved made that very clear after she came forward. This person has worked very hard to learn from her mistakes, acknowledging them, making amends when appropriate, continuing her education, and recently passed the MFC to become a UU minister. She has modeled good leadership. Good leaders aren’t expected to be perfect. They are, however, expected to acknowledge their mistakes, learn from them, improve, and model that behavior to those who look to them for guidance.
It is my fervent hope that those in positions of power at SKSM (particularly those who were in positions of power when this occurred) will engage in some serious self-reflection and embody the qualities of their former student and soon to be minister.
I still hold out hope that they will acknowledge the wrongs committed by individuals who represented the institution, wrongs not just to me, but to the MANY students (and in some cases families) who were harmed by their actions and who continue to struggle, as I do, with the after effects.
With hope,
Rev. Suzi Spangenberg
It was bittersweet seeing this photo pop up in my Facebook feed from two years ago. Two years ago, I preached a pretty darn good sermon focused on social justice. After talking with folks after the service, I headed to my car to make the 2-1/2 hour drive home to Berkeley. I was tired- I'd driven down the day before. Kind congregants had generously offered me home hospitality, and as often happens when I meet interesting people, I stayed up far too late conversing, especially considering I had to get up early to preach in the morning.
As I got into my car and turned my phone on, I discovered I'd missed many calls, emails, and texts. It turned out that while I had been preaching my sermon, someone had publicly sent out an anonymous email critical of my school's recent presidential search and which including Survey Monkey results which the school claimed were confidential.
I had nothing to do with the email, however my school either felt I sent it, or that I knew who had. At least, that's what I guess. No one from the administration of Starr King School for the Ministry ever spoke with me. Ever. They never once directly addressed me. I did speak to a restorative justice person the school hired and honestly answered their questions, but in spite of that, the school notified me the night before my graduation that they were withholding my degree. They demanded I meet with their legal representative and provide all my electronic communications as one of the conditions of giving me the degree I had worked so hard to earn. Later, they went on to demand my personal computer.
I could have easily provided them with what they wanted to clear my name. However, turning over all my electronic communications/emails would have meant breaking the UUMA Guidelines I had agreed to uphold as a candidate for ministry; it would have meant breaking the confidentiality of my colleagues and of people I had been pastoring - people that were in no way associated with the school, but who expected my confidentiality. It would also have meant breaking the confidentiality of activists all over the country that I had worked with--people I had built solid relationships with over many years, including DREAMERS and others whose very safety could have been compromised.
I felt quite strongly about the school demanding I give up one of my essential rights to privacy -especially considering that the school proudly holds up its reputation as one of supporting social justice and striving to build a just and sustainable world.
Lastly, and in no way of less importance, I realised that if I allowed the school to successfully use the withholding of my earned degree to coerce me into giving up a civil right, the precedent would be set and they could do it again. As a former student representative to the school's Board of Trustees, I simply could not set that precedent. I needed to protect future students from the same terrible experience.
The irony of my school demanding I break confidentiality in order for them to find out who leaked documents they claimed were confidential was not lost on me. I got a lawyer and asked for her help in getting my degree released-a degree I needed in order to be hired as a chaplain.
Over the next few months, there were several articles covering the story in the UU World, and the New York Times also picked up the story. While the coverage was honest and quite sympathetic to me, the actions of many of my colleagues were not.
What I went through during that year was beyond dreadful. Uninvolved colleagues who hadn't spoken to me about what happened began posting their opinions on social media. Many posted extremely disparaging things about me, including some who speculated that I was unfit for ministry. People whom I had thought were friends stopped speaking to me. Seminarians who had stayed in my home, who I had danced with, who had called on me in times of trouble (sometimes in the middle of the night) not only stopped talking to me, they were even too afraid to "like" my posts on Facebook out of fear of what the school might do. Colleagues that I truly trusted and loved turned their backs and haven't spoken to me since.
This broke my heart. It broke my heart and made me question my faith. I lost my faith community at a time when I desperately needed it the most.
To be very clear-there was a small group of amazingly beautiful, steadfast friends and colleagues who spoke up and out for me. Who stood by me even when it was hard-incredibly hard. Who publicly supported me, often taking a lot of criticism for doing so. If it weren't for them, I wouldn't have made it through.
At the same time, I was essentially judged, condemned, and shunned, by a large segment of the UU world for something I didn't do. I can't express how much this hurt. I gained weight. My blood pressure went up. I stopped dancing. I experienced incredible grief. I was left not knowing who I could trust.
The joy I experienced as I traveled my path to UU ministry dimmed and sputtered. I once had sped through multiple GA's and national actions, camera gear in hand, smiling widely as I photographed everyone and everything. I was left no longer feeling welcome.
What really hurt-what hurts still, and what this photograph reminds me, is that the minister of the church I preached at that Sunday was involved in the decisions made at my school. They knew I was in their pulpit when that email was sent and therefore knew I couldn't have sent it. Yet they never spoke out.
Later, when the person responsible come forward and absolved me of any involvement, there was not a whisper from the school. No olive branch was extended, no apology issued. My degree was sent to my attorney's office, stuffed in a postal service envelope, without even a simple note attached.
Now, two years later, I still haven't had a direct conversation with any administrator from Starr King. What I have had have been questions from prospective employers concerned about "things they've heard."
I'm doing all I can to try to get to a place of forgiveness. It's hard. Incredibly hard. I hope one day to get there. I also hope time will mend my broken heart...and I'm grateful beyond measure that I continue to have hope. I most especially look forward to the day when I can view this photograph and only be reminded of the day I preached a pretty darn good sermon.”
