http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=96038616
"When race does come up among white people, in my experience, it's easy for people to say a handful of safe things and then stop talking about this dangerous subject. If you're white, there is a formula for you to follow. First, you reflect on your youth. You note that, for whatever reason, you were brought up in a home without prejudice. You may offer an anecdote about how your mother believed in civil rights or how you, yourself, stood up for a black kid in school. Finally, you report that you try to see people according to what's inside them, just as your family taught you."
I cannot tell you how many of these conversations I have been a part of. Every time I find myself bored and distracted. I think people are very quick to speak up and say the safe things, because they do not want to be labeled racist, and they are usually so busy trying to get those safe things out and move on to another topic that there is no room to allow for real discussion.
These safe things- they are not my life. My conversation on race does not go like this. My conversation on race starts with the 1961 Freedom Ride bus bombing in my hometown, moves on to my white flight private school, through my cultural studies education in undergrad, to my masters degree in Southern Studies, and concludes with my experience in London negotiating race and class in an environment far removed from Southern black/white relations. Or maybe it keeps going, with my job working on the archived collections of many men who did everything in their power to keep white privilege in place in America. Maybe I throw in the fact that I recently found out that my great-great-great grandfather owned a plantation and slaves. (His son was responsible for bringing the Church of Christ to Alabama, so you can imagine I'm real proud.) Maybe there's a discussion of the effect of race and politics on one another, or maybe it's about race and culture. Race and food. Race and literature. Race and sociology. Maybe I find myself explaining to my co-worker, one white girl to another, why it is difficult to be black in America, in front of one of my former professors (also white). Awkward awkward awkward. Not because I feel that I can speak for black people, which I tried to make clear, but because I was trying to explain my sympathetic response to certain statements of Obama's in regard to his struggle to understand his racial identity. And to put my response and particular understanding in the context of my background and education.
Anyway. Example #2 today of how I feel like I'm often taking part in two conversations at once- one with the person I'm talking to, and another inside my own head, trying to translate my really, really complex beliefs into some form that is easily communicated to someone else.
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1 comment:
Right on.
Race is difficult to talk about because the only words we know to describe the situations are charged - not just oversignified, but charged with an electricity, a dangerousness that we don't know how to handle. And by "we," I don't just mean white people.
I think that many of the "hey, I'm not a racist" white people stories not only stem from desires to avoid the label and cut the discussion short, but to try to connect in some way. It sounds silly, but that story might mean a lot to that person. Many times it doesn't, of course, but it in some cases, it is a genuine to desire to move beyond the wholly unproductive feelings of white guilt.
I had an African-American literature professor in ungrad who encouraged every student of any race to tell or write about stories like those you mentioned. She listened intently, sympathetically, sweetly, and then said, "That's wonderful, my dear. What will you do now?" What she meant was - how do we proceed from here? It was a brilliant method of making people just uncomfortable enough that they couldn't escape thought and real discussion on race. Through literature, she created a safe space for us to explore and talk about race in uncomfortable ways, but then made us apply it real life, too, so that it wasn't *too* safe and unreal. I adored her.
My two cents, though it might be worth less than that. :)
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