Parables from Those Who Came Before

By Brandon Morgan

This parable was inspired by Kimberly Jones' book How We Can Win.

Imagine you’re playing Monopoly, and your objective is to go around the board 400 times. That’s a crazy long game of monopoly, right? But in this game of Monopoly, everyone else is given the typical starting money to play the game and you are not. Also, for the first 250 “go-arounds” of the game (where one go-around means making a full revolution around the board), you aren’t allowed to buy any property or earn any money, but it doesn’t mean you’re just a bystander in the game. You are an instrument in helping them accrue resources, railroads, property, and assets. In many ways, you have to remain “in jail” [1] for those 250 go-arounds, while others use you to gain these resources.

After 250 go-arounds, someone in the game says it’s really not fair that you haven’t been able to get money for this time, so they tell you, “I’m going to give you the opportunity to play. Also, here’s some starting money, so you’ll be able to engage happily.”

For a player denied the ability to play the right way for over 250 go-arounds, what do you think about the form of “justice” issued by giving the players denied the right to play “starting money?”

For 250 turns the other players have had the opportunity to gain money and properties but at least now you have something to work with. While you’re waiting for this fresh start in a system that you feel like you really can’t win in, they recant on their promise. Well, part of it. You can now buy property and earn money, but now you have to play the game from scratch with none of the starting funds others received. Also, as you try to play the game, some of the players seem to be against you playing for some reason. Well, except, that is, when you were playing for their benefit. They see your presence on the board as an earning player onerous because there’s someone else to “split the pie” with. You’re now another player to compete against. Albeit, most of the properties have already been taken and you have to work for the owners of those properties at rates they get to decide, but it was “better” for them when they didn’t have to pay you anything.

Let’s fast-forward sixty go-arounds.

You’re starting to make a little something. You’re even able to pick up Baltimore Avenue and another property on the board. It actually seems like your work ethic and savings are going to be able to afford you something for your children to play the game effectively. The other players on the board don’t like that. They burn your money and one of your properties. For the other property, you’re making an arrangement with another player. Typical Monopoly stuff, but he just places his game piece on top of your property and says it’s his.

You look puzzled and when you go to the game master/banker, they side with the other player so all that work for sixty turns comes to close to nothing. The only thing it has cultivated is an increased distrust in the players and those who are supposed to enforce the rules.

What does it say about the system when the game itself disallows for justice or charity (love)?

Let’s fast forward another sixty turns. You’ve had to go through many unfortunate events like the one that happened sixty turns ago, and have had to be savvy about the way you play the game. For some reason, the banker keeps denying your request for a loan regardless of how trustworthy you are. Other players enter the game, and they’re able to get loans. In fact, new rules rise on the board that are meant to help you, but it seems that others benefit, but not you. You accrue your pennies and your dollars (but not too fast, lest the other players burn it again or throw you in jail), and you purchase Baltimore Avenue again. The other players sneer at you, saying the system and an exemption in the rules helped you. You brush them off for what feels like the millionth time and you keep moving forward, hoping they don’t retaliate and burn your money again. You’ve considered playing another game, but every time you do, they disallow you and throw you in jail. Shrugging off your tides of misfortune, you look into the eyes of your child and tell them the story of how the game is played.

Fast-forward another thirty turns. The game seems a little fairer. Someone looks at you and asks, “I just don’t understand why you haven’t been able to get ahead.”

The game is American capitalism infected by the evils of racism. The go-arounds represent years. The players who are constantly set back represent enslaved Blacks brought to the Americas and their descendants. The other players represent forces of White Supremacy in the United States seeking to purport their dominance. These “forces of White Supremacy” can represent: people, laws, practices, deception, prevailing culture.

In this story, that we call history, the enslaved became “the emancipated” according to history (it’s interesting timing that I’m editing this close to the weekend of Juneteenth*).

But are the players truly emancipated if they can’t play the economic game the same way others do?

As you mull on that question, I’ll purport something else. You’ll find similar intertwining games for the emancipated and their descendants with: education, suffrage, housing, health, and employment. These games have deprived Black-identifying Americans of joy, love, prosperity, and peace for the past 400 years. I don’t claim to have answers, only more questions. Questions I hope will lead to critical reflection and action:

•  What policies do I support that allow the oppressed to play in this game of Monopoly?

•  Are there ways that I benefit from the economic oppression of others? Can I personally make repairs?

•  How has the love of money and the desire for domination affect the way we view our “neighbors”?

[1] In the rules of Monopoly, being in jail means you are unable to move your piece or buy any property until you get out of jail which is either by luck (rolling dice) or by paying your way out.

Brandon Morgan is a follower of Jesus that lives in the Greater Boston area. He is currently a doctoral student in public health at Drexel University. Brandon is brought to life by community work, rock climbing, reading, writing, and spending time with those he loves. You can read more of his articles here.