At the 2024 Paris Olympics, breakdancing made its debut as an official sport, to the excitement of older hip-hop heads like myself. Some of the best breakers in the world competed on a global stage—a huge moment, though one that won’t return in 2028 or 2032.Yet what most remember isn’t the exceptional creativity of b-boys and b-girls like Canada’s Philip Kim (Phil Wizard), who won gold. Few can name a medalist, but nearly everyone remembers one competitor: Rachel Gunn, aka Raygun.Raygun lost all three battles in the round-robin stage without scoring a point, and her routines didn’t resemble breakdancing in any traditional sense. Which would be fine—if she weren’t competing at the highest level of the sport. Breakdancing has a clear history of demanding power moves that take years of sacrifice. Raygun may be a good dancer, but her routines looked like something from a weekend workshop, not the culmination of years mastering hip-hop’s most athletic element.Her “kangaroo hop” and “sprinkler” went viral, overshadowing the athletes who earned their place on that stage. Soon after, Gunn retired from competition, citing the wave of negativity and its toll on her mental health.I’m not here to attack Rachel Gunn. Maybe her intentions were pure. But what the world saw looked like stolen valor—her inclusion cheapened the art form and robbed others of their moment.This essay is about that same effect in our public faith: American evangelicals often perform persecution while others endure it — and the performance cheapens real suffering.Clear DefinitionsTo talk seriously about persecution, we need clean definitions—specifically in the context of religious persecution, particularly of Christians.Persecution: the deliberate targeting of a person or group for their beliefs. Christian tradition holds that the apostles were martyred for preaching Christ—that’s persecution.Oppression: when structures, laws, and policies are weaponized to restrict the dignity and freedom of believers. Oppression turns persecution into policy.Cultural opposition: the natural clash of worldviews in a pluralistic society (like a Democratic Republic made up of a diverse group of people).People may reject Christian values, criticize them, or choose others—but that is not persecution.Granted, these categories can overlap and sometimes feel unclear. But even then, an objective look at the circumstances is usually enough to make the distinction.And now we can land the analogy: If there were an Olympic event awarding medals to the most persecuted and oppressed Christians worldwide, American evangelicals—white evangelicals especially—would show up front and center, eager to don their laurels and wave to an adoring crowd. But like Raygun, their performance would look like stolen valor. Their “persecution” would be exposed as little more than cultural opposition, staged on the same platform alongside brothers and sisters enduring actual persecution and oppression.The result? Their theatrics would cheapen genuine suffering, damage our Christian witness, and divert attention from those who deserve our solidarity the most. Not to mention, the backlash they recieved would become the newest controversy they weaponize to victimize themselves and their beliefs instead of seeing it for what it is.Manufactured MartyrdomIn the U.S., religious freedom and the separation of church and state are two pillars of our system. Remove either, and the other quickly collapses.Yet in recent years, politicians and celebrity pastors have increasingly portrayed Christianity as under siege. From Trump’s rallies (“They’re not after me, they’re after you”) (Reuters), to Franklin Graham warning that Christians are being pushed out of public life (PBS), to Paula White framing cultural disagreements as spiritual war (Christianity Today)—persecution has become a political talking point. Even federal agencies stumble into this narrative: when the Department of Homeland Security posted the 1872 painting American Progress, critics said it glorified Manifest Destiny and evoked white Christian nationalism (Los Angeles Times).Nationalism thrives on fear. To weaponize the church, leaders need believers to feel attacked, persecuted, oppressed—to see an enemy at the gates. That outrage can then be harnessed, not for Christ’s kingdom, but for political power.To be fair, Christians in America do sometimes encounter bias or exclusion—whether in media caricatures, workplace conflicts, or elite cultural spaces. Those experiences can sting, and they shouldn’t be brushed aside. But they aren’t systemic persecution. Too often, cultural opposition or loss of privilege is rebranded as martyrdom (The Atlantic).Organizations like the American Center for Law and Justice (ACLJ) capitalize on this fear. They frame every courthouse nativity or school-prayer dispute as the first domino on the road to gulags. It’s effective fundraising, ...
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