Troubled Faith Reflection
When I taught English III, one of the units I was supposed to teach was African American Literature. Now, if you look at my author's picture, you may note something ironic about me being the one to teach that. Especially since I taught at a predominantly black school. I would introduce this unit the same way every year: “The District says that this year I’ll be teaching you African American Literature… Does anyone see a problem here with that?” And then I would gesture to my exceptionally pasty forearm. This would usually get a big laugh from my kids. I would go on to explain that rather than me preaching to them about African American culture and history exposed in the literature, we would instead be exploring it together, that I wanted them to pour their own experiences into the class discussions because I didn’t have any experience to offer.
I tried to capture that same mentality when discussing Callie’s experience with Marcus, and while her experience is that as a young black woman dealing with an exceptionally successful and rich black man, the fact that they are black isn’t where I wanted to focus my attention, because again, I don’t feel I have the right to really speak on the Black-American experience.
(Note: You’ll notice that I keep using the term “black” rather than “African American,” brief aside on that. I’m originally from New York, and when I referred to a man as African American, he said to me, “Don’t call me that. I’m not from Africa. I’m Jamaican. Just call me black.” So with respect to his wishes, I’ve used this terminology unless otherwise instructed by people I’m talking to or with).
What I really wanted to explore with Callie is power dynamics, especially between established people in positions of power attempting to force those in their charge to see the world they see it, unwilling or unable to see it any other way. Callie’s eyes are being opened to how corrupt the system around her really is, and how she was just going to be made into a pawn like any other one she’d seen her mentor throw away in the past. What she’s realizing, almost too late, is that every one of us is a pawn to someone else, and if we allow them to use us as such, they will throw us away, no matter how dedicated you are to them.
Too often, we are sold easily by hearing what we want to be told. In Callie’s case, she was sold on the idea of becoming the shining example of excellence she’d been told her entire life she needed to represent. Both by her parents and by society. Too often, we see black culture being equated with something ‘lesser’ or ‘uncultured,’ and then compiled with that, we’ve been taught in our society that poverty is a choice that people make when they aren’t willing to work. Both of these assumptions are wrong, obviously, but the young are indoctrinated into this way of thinking not just by the way their parents or elders teach them, but also by how society allows these lessons to perpetuate through our culture.
We, like Callie, put our faith in what we see and what we are taught. We are taught “I have a dream” but never really read that entire speech. We get the kumbaya moments that make great soundbites of togetherness with our white/black brothers and sisters, but somewhere lines like “We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality,” and “We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their adulthood and robbed of their dignity” get cut from the lesson plan. This was one of the reasons why I taught texts like The Murder of Fred Hampton and spoke about Daryl Davis, the man who converted over a hundred KKK members out of the Klan just by being their friend.
We are constantly sold a perspective of the world we live in, and Callie is beginning to realize that what she’s been swallowing for years hasn’t been a promise, but a poison.
Diego has reached that point, earlier than she has, because his crisis of faith happened in the belfry. Grey gave him permission to stop seeing the world the way he was told to view it, but rather begin to define what it meant to identify as who he was. He saw himself as a monster, and that was something to be ashamed of. He saw himself as a Christian, and that was something he was undeserving of because of his monstrous side. But in that moment, Grey gave him permission to redefine what being a monster and being a Christian meant. For Diego, being a Christian meant being a good person and following the teachings of Christ. He has seen first hand how those teachings get perverted by those who claim to be Christian, and how those who act like the Christ would are often torn down. As the meme goes, “When you ask yourself WWJD, remember that flipping tables and beating people with a whip falls into the realms of possibility.” (John 2:13-17 for anyone wondering).
He also got to reimagine what being a monster means. He was told that he needed to be silent, invisible, and obedient. To stay out of matters that didn’t concern him because that was the only way to stay alive. His sire, his mentor, who is no longer around for him to turn to, taught him that passivity was proper, and he, for a long time, obeyed that lesson to the letter. However, when he was given permission to cut loose, to be who he needed to be in order to not just survive, but make a difference, he found that he possessed a strength beyond that which his sire ever allowed him to believe. Too often we are collared and tethered to an idea because we have been told our whole lives that it is what binds us. We only realize once we pull on that tether, that it is little more than a length of twine we believed to be a chain.
The problem with that kind of freedom is that oftentimes we’re wound up so tight one direction that when it’s released, the pendulum swings back violently the other way. Add to that the Clan Compulsion of Ruthlessness in Lasombra, and we get Diego really leaning into his monster side. Granted, he’s using that side to act in a way that protects those he cares about and punishes those who would dare threaten to cause them harm, which is something I’m sure all of us wish we had the power to do, but many of us may look at what he did to Carl in this chapter and think, “Dude… too much.”
I will admit that Ole Red’s is probably one of my more twisted creations, and rather dark, but I must take a moment here to remind you, good reader, that this is a story that takes place in the World of Darkness, and this particular scene is rather tame in comparison to some of the things that you may come across in the lore. VtM lore is long, storied, and sometimes strange. But it is also twisted, dark, and at times terrifying. I apologize to you if you found this scene uncomfortable, and I can understand why, but I feel it was necessary to depict the change in Diego here.
See, the old Diego would have come into a place like Ole Red’s and been feeling much like how Callie is in this scene: uncomfortable, disturbed, and out of place. He’s a known entity here, but the treatment he’s getting shows a distinct shift, despite us never seeing him in this element before. While Cedric for the most part doesn’t blink, being the good bartender and remaining neutral in any matter that doesn’t directly threaten his establishment, it is the moments with Dominique that really show us the shift in both Diego and Callie.
Ventrue like Callie take great offense at insults, and Dominique was handing those out like candy. It is her instinct, both as an executive and as one of the Blue Bloods of vampire society, to put anyone who insults her or what she deems as hers in their place. Her instinct is to immediately defend Diego, because he never defends himself. However, when she reads him, and the room, she realizes that this isn’t her stage. The barroom is not a boardroom, and she didn’t have authority here.
But Diego did.
He just needed to learn to use it properly.
One of my favorite things about the World of Darkness is how sometimes the clans can mirror each other. Lasombra and Ventrue are foils of one another, just one is the Church and the other is the State (usually backed by corporate manipulation, so you know, just like the real world). Callie and Diego are actually very similar to each other, but are on different ends on how they work a room. Callie is the executive, the business woman who will destroy someone with facts, figures, and documentation. Diego, with the power of religion and ruthlessness on his side, chose instead to leverage his knowledge of individual personal secrets to get what he wanted and only lose a few favors at his disposal. On top of that, he reinvented himself in the underbelly of the Anarch society with a single, simple display of power and intent. I like to think that Callie’s initial lack of respect for him was that he was a poor reflection of what she’d hoped to see in her rival faction, and in this moment, the pride she felt was witnessing him finally striving for his true potential.
But the moment at the end, the moment with Cedric, was the moment I felt the most important. Because it shows us that just because Diego is willing to embrace the ruthlessness of his clan, he’s willing to use his power as a monster, he hasn’t thrown away his values borne into him through his Christian upbringing, a true Christian upbringing. He’s ever the idealist, the kind hearted soul, and the man who is only willing to use force when necessary to either make a point or protect what he loves.
Beyond that, he shows his loyalty. Not the loyalty of a golden retriever anymore, not the goofy forgiving nature of a naive child, but the faith driven loyalty of a man who knows what he stands for, who is willing to stand by him, and knows that his pushback will carry weight and drive reflection rather than bring down scorn. Diego knows his worth now, he knows that Grey will listen, that Isadora will protect, and that Callie will allow others to lead when they have the better head for it. Diego’s growth, while not complete, is solidified in this chapter, and it is all seen through the eyes of the one person whose growth is only just beginning.
Honestly, this was one of my favorite chapters to write. It gave me everything a Vampire Story needed to have, and then some. While Diego has been struggling with his faith since he entered the story, it is only now that Callie gets a moment to breathe and reflect on her own shattered faith. Faith is something that is very delicate to me in my life. I was raised Christian, but do not carry the faith anymore. I became an Atheist, and not a good one for a long time. Once I started teaching Mythology, my atheism became far healthier because I was learning from those whose faith was pure and true, not those who acted in the name of a god they abused in order to shield themselves from the repercussions of their own repugnant actions behind a veneer of religious freedom. Diego was a victim of such “Christians” and decided to no longer allow them to rule his faith. Callie had her faith in another shattered as well, but began to learn who she could really put her faith in, and in turn is realizing there is more faith she can place in herself as well.
These are lessons that I’m still working on learning for myself. Who can I place my faith in? How can I begin to have more faith in myself? What entities in the world truly have my best interest at heart, which ones don’t, and which ones can I believe in enough to get what I need without falling into the clutches of something that could drag me far too deep? I envy Diego’s confidence and transformation, but honestly I feel more like Callie in my day to day life, but my hope is that she’ll gain her faith back, so that I can believe that I will one day too.
