Code Switching

The awkward road toward consciousness & congruence

I went for a jog yesterday and couldn’t stop thinking about Training Day, that early 2000s classic where Ethan Hawke plays Jake, a young, naïve, and idealistic LAPD officer tasked with training under Alonzo, a charismatic narcotics detective spectacularly played by Denzel Washington. Jake is thrown into the deep end forced to learn the ropes of policing in the most gang-saturated neighborhoods of Los Angeles.

Alonzo thrives in all settings because he knows the dance of code switching. He speaks out of both sides of his mouth, cop on one side, streetwise hustler on the other. He knows how to navigate both worlds, play the game, and find the necessary common ground to maintain credibility. Jake, by contrast, is a purist – he’s honest, values-driven, and often awkwardly out of place in a system built on constant compromise and coercion. Jake refuses to play along.

As I ran, it hit me: THIS IS US. Training Day illustrates the King Kong sized tension many of us carry once we see what we can’t unsee and what they simply can’t see.

Alonzo is who we sometimes become to survive those cringy holiday dinners or strained phone calls with loved ones who speak easily about college football or the latest heat wave, but never mention or even consider the thousands of starving children in Gaza or the blatant rise of fascism that your conscience just can’t drift away from. Like Alonzo, many of us are trying so hard to hold a foot in both worlds. We massage the conversation, we walk a tight rope of keeping things polite and non-confrontational. We code switch between a prophetic conscience and our beloved connections.

Jake, on the other hand, represents those of us who simply cannot—or won’t—play that game anymore. When you just cannot manage to smile and nod one more damn time. When you can’t possibly pretend to be okay talking about the weather while the US sponsors the elimination of 60,000 Palestinian lives. You can’t dial down your convictions and associate yourself with those who bless occupation, deny humanity, or remain silently complicit with a president who proudly abuses and assaults women of all ages.

Jake won’t budge.

And on most days, neither will you.

This bizarre dissonance and cognitive disassociation hits hardest for those of us raised in environments rigid fundamentalism. If you grew up switching out your Dr. Dre CD for DC Talk before youth group, you were trained for this split. If you learned to talk one way with friends and another in the church lobby you learned that acceptance required a lifestyle of hiding.

Lying. Hiding your integrity under the seat to save you extra work.

It’s never felt right. You’ve always known that this shape-shifting has a cost that’ll catch up with you sooner or later. Fragmented and incongruent, you never wanted to get good at this dance – a dance where the choreography comes at the cost of your character.

Sometimes I wonder how much of a toll this bi-polarity has taken on me. How many sleepless nights are rooted in this lifelong strain of keeping everyone happy while slowly disappearing ourselves in the process?

I hear the sound of a collective cry for congruence. I hear the reverb of longing from tired souls desperate to express an undivided life in the way Jesus.

And listen, once again, I must acknowledge I’m coming from the identity of the straight white man. I’ve got nothing on women in the church or my friends of color who have navigated white patriarchal spaces their entire lives. I’m indebted for the path you’ve worn and how you’ve shown me how to walk it.

I do believe we all know the threat of rejection that comes with being fully aligned with your values from head to toe. You know the ache from the disconnection, like you’re somehow betraying a part of yourself. You know the interior negotiations that come from holding on by your fingertips amidst painful departures from parents or siblings or communities you once loved. It feels so seriously unbearable. Some of us would rather die than compromise. I see you, beloved.

At the end of Training Day (and apologies for the spoiler!) Jake, the one who remains true to himself is the one who receives the respect from the streets while Alonzo meets his bullet riddled demise for a life of playing both sides.

I’m curious… What script you’re living these days?

Maybe you’re still playing your part in the old charade and there’s deep grace for that. You’re so kind. You wrestle with the tensions and you can’t bear the feeling of hurting… anyone.

You’re not alone. There’s space for you here. That feeling of unbearable tension is the sign of your beautiful integrity – your solidarity with all the overlooked, the starving, and silenced.

We are made in God’s image.

We are made of love not shame

We are never alone

Christ is with us

Do not be afraid.