Whilst I was on placement at the University of Birmingham for my Postgraduate work in Chaplaincy, I submitted a reflective poem called ‘Cycles’. This was for one of my assignments, where I produced a series of ‘spoken word’ pieces as reflective practice based on observations ‘from the field’ as it were. For those of you that read my first piece, you’ll know that creative writing is one of the ways I process data and express my thoughts and feelings through a scholarly lens.
I had been observing my supervisor- himself a Chaplain, who fixed bikes for students on campus as part of his ministry. It was a beautiful and simple way to connect with others. Whilst tending to the faulty bike, he could casually enquire about the well being of its owner and their ‘journey’ at the University thus far. Where in the cycle were they? Undergraduate? Postgrad? Whether fresher or seasoned student, joyful or stressed out with a head crammed full of ideas for their Thesis, Chaplaincy created space to breathe. Addressing the practical allowed time for connection and reflection should the student need it. Chaplain’s are generally ready to offer a listening ear, create safe spaces for dialogue and pray if requested (amongst other things!).
I’d liken my former supervisor’s bike fixing ministry to getting your hair done (if you’ll indulge me for a moment). You're never just going for a cut or a shave. It’s an event, by scheduled appointment, invitation or drop in; community is formed and the service they offer is transformative. You walk in one way but depart looking, feeling, seeming different! Adjusted. Stabilised (am I talking about the bike, the hair or the person here?) Likewise for both there’s a time to be still, and time to receive, there’s time to laugh, time to share in confidence and time to heal. They make time transformative. Chaplain’s create the conditions to facilitate a divine encounter with something Holy beyond the mundane should the opportunity present itself.
During my time at the University, I journeyed alongside a group of young black female undergrads as part of my ethnographic research. I listened to them talk about their experiences on campus: the phenomena of double consciousness, feelings of invisibility, enduring micro-aggression and of being silenced in and out of the classroom. Some spoke of the strain on their mental health, others noted the homogenous nature of a curriculum that did not acknowledge diversity of persons, ideas or perspectives in scholarly work. The academy favoured a mythical ‘neutral’ stance. With their lived experiences dismissed or ignored, it made navigating spaces very challenging indeed; particularly where one is perceived as the minority (this, despite the fact that they represent a global majority). Post George Floyd, society has become a little more aware of the impact such systemic issues have on individuals and marginalised people groups. But I was conducting this work in 2016. Pre-pandemic. The denial and “I don’t see colour”-blind rhetoric was pervasive.
In the early 90’s when I was an undergrad student, these struggles were articulated in hushed tones amongst peers for safety’s sake. Needless to say, these young ladies were grateful to see someone that looked like them who could relate to their lived experiences as black women navigating their way in the world. Someone who would encourage them and pray if needed. Establishing one’s authentic scholarly voice and sense of self in the academy as a person of global majority heritage requires courage and conviction. Without adequate access to mentors, elders, guides or companions to journey alongside them for support, the task can feel daunting. Insurmountable.
My ‘ministry’ with those young women emerged quite by accident, when a lone student walked into the multifaith Chaplaincy exhausted and met me. A lone black woman, trying to figure out her own way in this Chaplaincy world; looking for an assignment. Talk about divine encounter!
Recently the UK’s first black female Priest, Reverend Canon Eve Pitts, asked of her inner city community “where do we go for renewal…?” It turned out, this young woman needed a safe space to breathe and she had a bunch of friends on campus that felt the same. In fact all these young women (of some faith and non) really wanted, was to be treated as though they too were made in the image of the Creator. Not to be viewed as deviant or transgressing simply because their lens was different from established optics that crowded out their view. I could see this, because I had been in their position two decades plus before them.
I sensed the usefulness of my presence with these young women, knowing how significant it would feel for them to be seen, heard, (metaphorically) held and understood. I do wonder how well those ambitious pioneering ‘little’ sisters are doing now they have moved on to a different season.
Life is one big cycle, full of beginnings that eventually come to an end; highs that can simultaneously kiss the lows; expectations that sometimes lead to knock-backs. Yet still we rise, from death to life. To begin again. Someone recently reminded me that every season is valuable. Nothing is ever wasted. Our hard won lessons, can set someone else onto their trajectory. Sometimes all we need is a willing hand to help straighten those handle bars and tell us it’s going to be okay. Before we get back on the saddle and strap ourselves in, ready for the next crazy adventure. Can you relate?
No matter how solitary some of us may seem, no-one really does this journey alone. Someone somewhere is waiting, praying, cheering us on from the side lines. Someone out there is willing to keep our arms up, willing to be that beautiful vessel bubbling over with enough love to share because love has graciously been bestowed upon them at some point and now it overflows.
This life is a cycle not a sprint. The reality is from time to time we will all need somebody to lean on.
Wonderful and moving!
Excellent,beautifully written as always.