A Conversation With D.L. Mayfield, Author of The Myth of the American Dream

D.L. Mayfield/photo by Jared Whitney

D. L. Mayfield is a writer and activist who has spent over a decade working with refugee communities in the United States. Her work has been published in McSweeney's, The Washington Post, Christianity Today, Christian Century, Sojourners, Vox, and the Englewood Review of Books. She is also the author of Assimilate or Go Home: Notes from a Failed Missionary on Rediscovering Faith. She lives in Portland, Oregon, with her husband and two children. In the third chapter of THE MYTH OF THE AMERICAN DREAM, Reflections on Affluence, Autonomy, Safety and Power, you reference a powerful quote from Martin Luther King, Jr. "Men convinced themselves that the system that was so economically profitable must be morally justifiable... Their rationalizations clothe obvious wrongs in the beautiful garments of righteousness. This tragic attempt to give moral sanction to an economically profitable system gave birth to the doctrine of White supremacy." You write that King was talking about slavery. You also make a connection between White supremacy and the doctrine of manifest destiny. I remember, as a kid in the 1960s, being taught (by nuns) about manifest destiny, as if it were inevitable and a good thing. I wonder how you would explain this connection to present-day elementary and middle-school kids, and adults too?

I think manifest destiny is another way to live into the white supremacist belief that America, in particular, is at the pinnacle of innovation and God’s dream for the world. What is interesting is that in the history books I grew up reading, it was only White European Protestants that had the blessing from God to take over North America and make it great (Catholics were of the devil!). Slavery fits into this narrative neatly--first, the indigenous peoples were exploited and then decimated by the European settlers, then chattel slavery became the norm to make the plantations profitable. The most troubling thing about my background is how this conquering mindset is “God-ordained.” As theologian Willie James Jennings puts it, this means that the American (White) Christian imagination is inherently diseased, since it is bound up with the idea that one group of people at the top of a racial hierarchy, and this is God’s will. 

Just a few pages after the mention of supremacy and manifest destiny, you write, "The only problem [with the American Dream] is that being safe and secure isn't a major theme of Scripture - but unjust economic practices are. Especially among the white evangelical churches in America, how can this observation be shared and better understood?

Looking at Scriptures in a more holistic light (and less from an individualistic approach), we do see that the Bible is obsessed with people--and economics affects people! Growing up I thought much of the Hebrew Scriptures were about bowing down to idols--but actually, it’s much more than that. It’s all about shalom, or the flourishing of an entire community. This is why the Hebrew Scriptures talk constantly about prioritizing the poor: the foreigner, the orphan, and the widow--people who were not prioritized then (or now) in exploitative economies.. But what are American white evangelicals known for currently? From our radio stations (safe for the whole family) to our immigration politics (America first) we have lost the vision for the common good. We believe focusing on our family first is a Biblical principle--and I just don’t see that fleshed out in the whole of Scripture. 

I love what you write about the Thanksgiving Address recited by students on the Onondaga Reserve in New York. "[T]he Thanksgiving Address takes its time to thank various elements of the earth - water, wind, fire, plants, animals, and more. At the end of each section, there is a time to invite the listener to agree, to come back to... 'We give things to the stars, who are spread across the sky like a jeweler... With our minds gathered as one, we send greetings and thanks... Now our minds are one." This prayer seems so solidly natural, inclusive and gracious. And I wonder, are these qualities partly an antidote to the American Dream?

Yes, Robin Wall Kimmerer wrote about the Thanksgiving Address in her book Braiding Sweetgrass--which in itself is a great antidote to the extreme individualism of the American Dream! I’ve had the profound pleasure to live as a neighbor to people who come from more collectivist countries and it has shown a blinding light on the limits of my own individualistic framework (both my theology and my civic engagement, to be honest!). I think keeping in mind our relationship to our vulnerable community members, to the earth, and engaging in the practice of gratitude and articulating interdependence are all values I want to continue to grow in.

About half-way through your book, you discuss education and what part it plays in propagating the American Dream. You talk about a once-a-decade touch-up on the local elementary school, conducted by sincere folks, from outside of the neighborhood. And you write "What exactly does it mean to love a neighborhood, to adopt it, to help it, to fix it, when you wouldn't actually ever move into it?" And a startlingly honest follow-up question: "Someone's kids have to attend the worst school in your city. In your mind whose kids should that be?" You make the point that how we answer these questions shows how deeply autonomy is lodged in us. We want the best for our kids, to the exclusion of everyone one else. Is this why the issue of public education is such an emotional one? And why well-meaning parents/guardians can be blinded to complicity in supporting unjust systems?

I think public education is where the rubber meets the road for our values (especially people who consider themselves progressive)--or where intent isn’t enough if the impact is negative. And the truth is our education system is wildly inequitable, and if you have means you try and work the system so your kids get a better situation than others. But if you are a Christian, and you believe the gospel in action looks like loving your neighbor as yourself, we need to not make these decisions with only our children in mind. We need to make them with the most vulnerable children prioritized. I know this can feel touchy to people, but perhaps that is because we are so much more comfortable only thinking about what we owe our own children. But that is not a Biblical concept, especially in the kingdom of God that Jesus talked about constantly. I’m not telling people what they should do with their kids or education, but I am saying we need to ask better questions about our responsibility to those our educational system is failing. 

And then you talk about the Biblical writers and prophets, "who would be baffled by how individualism, consumerism, and affluence have shared our communities - including how we eat, shop, educate our children and worship." You go on to describe another factor of this complex equation, the ramifications of living in a fear-driven culture. "You can't love somebody if you are determined to be afraid of them. Perhaps that's why the Bible is full of the messengers of God telling everyone to 'fear not.' It is our human impulse to fear. And it is our human impulse to baptize it under religious language." Do you see fear actually fueling individualism, consumerism and affluence?

This is an interesting question to answer during a global pandemic. When I wrote The Myth of the American Dream I was thinking specifically about how fear shaped the political mind of white evangelicals in regards to immigration and the decimation of the U.S. Refugee Resettlement Program. I also see this at work in our drive to be political--if we don’t vote for Trump, then the liberals win. What are we so afraid of losing? Cultural power? Government funds? Tax Credits? Again, the Biblical writers would be stunned at our hubris. They lost much more than that--even their lives--and were following God wholeheartedly. But so many white evangelicals don’t seem to be very afraid of turning people away from the good news of Jesus with our actions--and yet that is what is currently happening. 

In the chapter of your book titled "Empire," you write "...White evangelical

expressions of Christianity in America, cannot die because it is inherently blessed by God. This is ingrained in my brain, where this vicious myth has taken root and made itself true." You go on to make the point that: "There is nothing in Scripture, nothing in Jesus, that says my proud and terrible and interesting country is particularly blessed, has some special favor, has some special reason for existence." Believing this myth "leads to small, deformed imaginations - I see it in how White evangelical Christianity has been tangled up in the same pull toward greatness, toward power, toward viewing ourselves as specially anointed by God to rule the world, to hold and be in charge." Given this understanding, how do you see the recent response to the killing of George Floyd and the Black Lives Matter movement?

I think we are in a really important time of unveiling. America has never been great--and it shouldn’t be perceived as threatening to be honest about that. If you feel threatened by that statement, then you have made an idol of your nationalism. It’s scriptural to seek out and listen to the voices of those who are the farthest away from the seats of power and sit at their feet. To see what a just and equitable world would look like for them. Because if the marginalized flourish in our neighborhoods and cities, then we all will! But our entire economy has it backwards, prioritizing the rich at every turn. I think it is moments like this that can actually bring about a cultural shift--if we can listen and try to understand the anger of Black Americans, if we can have the imagination to wonder what it would look like if we defunded the police and put resources towards public education, if we wept with those who wept--I think we can begin to make real systemic and moral changes. 

Part of the solution, as you see it, is "To seek and celebrate the stories we were taught to ignore, erase, or dismiss. This is the first step in acknowledging that how we see ourselves in the world is not always correct. It is the first step of acknowledging that people who come from places of power and privilege always see ourselves as the center... The antidote to these myths is to consciously remember those who are not writing the history textbooks. To pay attention to the world, and the myths we promote and the histories we ignore. To seek out the stories that do not just celebrate people like us but that remember those who came first." Nigerian writer Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie gave a powerful TED talk about 'The Danger of a Single Story.' She seems to be making a similar observation. In your book, you go to note that: "Empire loves to create statues to itself - think of the bull on Wall Street, the statues of Confederate leaders..." What do you think about the recent pulling down of such statues as part of the protests around the killing of George Floyd? Could this be a way of dismantling a single story?

I love all the symbolic imagery happening right now--both the pulling down of statues that seek to reinvent history (the noble lost cause narrative of the south was a strategic and targeted plan to make slaveholders and confederate generals appear noble) and the memorials and murals we are seeing pop up everywhere to lament the loss of Black and Brown lives to police brutality. Obviously, imagery and symbols aren’t enough, but it is a way to shape the cultural imagination. The United States has a horrible history of refusing to engage with the racial violence in its past, and so now the people are forcing a public reckoning. It complicates the narrative, which is vital for people like me. 

Finally, you discuss the importance of lamenting. "In arenas packed with people, in the halls of government buildings, in churches large and small, in universities and conferences, I was not taught to learn how to lay down my power willingly. I was taught to fight for it, which dulled and tarnished my ability to mourn the reality of those who truly were being oppressed in my midst. And if I can't learn to lament and repent, I will never be able to envision a world where resurrection is truly possible." What's your definition of lamenting? What does lamenting look like to you? And how can we learn to lament, and leave room for it?

I’m still learning about lament, and I am indebted to people like Walter Brueggemann, Soong-Chan Rah, Lisa Sharon Harper, and Donna Barber (among others) to reclaim this important piece of Christian and scriptural heritage. Lament starts with the belief that there is a God who is present and listening, so it really is about faith. Lament also is about naming exactly what is wrong in the world--no sugar coating it, and no rushing to make it better. It’s being honest about exactly how messed up our world is. Right now it can be so overwhelming to engage with the news--global, local--because of the sheer amount of tragedies and histories we are being forced to reckon with. Lament helps us be able to name what troubles us, to have an honest conversation with God. And through that, we remember how God has shown up in the past for oppressed peoples. And for people like myself, who envision being the savior in these scenarios or like I can fix racism in the U.S. with a snap of my fingers, it reminds me I am just one tiny person among many many Christians who long for God’s dream for the world to be made manifest. Lament centers us in our actual world, with a faith in a present and good God, and in the knowledge that we are a part of a large community with dreams that come from far beyond us. It’s a beautiful and restorative practice, and at least 30% of psalms are in the lament tradition. And yet we don’t engage with them as White evangelicals hardly at all in our worship services. I wonder if that is because naming the world as it is can be seen as threatening to a religion that has tied itself to the success of the empire?  Click here for more on D.L. Mayfield.