Thinking about Race...a White Lady Perspective.

Here is the thing, as I sit in my house sneezy with allergies and frustrated by small things that are non-consequential, I have the luxury of switching off the media and wallowing in my own itchy self-loathing.  I am able to disengage from the tragedy that is occurring in so much of our culture.  But I know many can't.  I live in a white household with white issues.  I worry about my family in a way that has an inherent belief that they are safe in a world that will protect them.  I can have a debate with my white friend about the term “all lives matter” and it is heady, and again, non-consequential because I know that when we talk about “all lives” I am included in her assertion.  I am safe and that is a fundamental right, right?

The first time I started to think about the idea of race was when my childhood dog seemed to dislike my babysitter who was black.  Her name was Daphne.  I was about 7.  She was great.  The second time I thought about race was when I started doing organ donation advocacy in high school and I realized there were a higher percentage of people who were black that needed organs than people who were white.  The third time I looked at race was when I volunteered at a homeless shelter.  I did this twice a week for four years in college and yet I still didn’t think about race very much.  There was a mother at the shelter (it was a family shelter) who had come "home" from work and still had her Famous Barr (a clothing store) name tag on.  She was professionally dressed.  I asked the person who worked there the name of the volunteer and without a beat she said, “Oh, Miss. Thompson (name changed)? She live here.”  That was the first time I had to think about poverty being something different than society taught me it was.  These examples represent where I was and how unaware I was (even then as a persistent shelter volunteer) of my own privilege and supremacy.  In reality, I was pretty blind until about two years ago...I am 35.

I like to think of myself as a progressive liberal.  I have all the signs and symptoms:  I listen to NPR; I made mixed CD’s of indie folk bands when I was in college; I went to "shows"; I love Obama; I love documentaries; I have a bunch of t-shirt that say things like “Less Hate: More Love,” and “I vote”; I listen to podcasts; I am on social media; I had Myspace; Occasionally I write letters to lawmakers; People could believe I chose my career over babies;  I love Ellen and I am “down” with RBG; I go to peace rallies; I vote; I read Ta-Nehisi Coats;  I am a professor;  I like to eat at farm-to-table restaurants.  I watched one episode of Portlandia  (the one where they are at a restaurant and, they get a bio tour of the chicken they are about to eat and then it cuts to a feminist bookstore) and had to turn it off, because it was too familiar.  I am "that" person who likes to think herself a do-gooder so it is hard for me to say that I am racist.

I say this because over the last two years I have come to believe that pretty much every white American is racist.  If we weren’t we would be doing more.  It is that simple. We would be doing more to save lives.  We should be doing more.  We live in a society that teaches us that "we" are better.  For “us” it is covert knowledge; For non-whites it is undeniably clear.  Up until about two years ago I saw gay rights as much more of a prevalent issue than black rights (sidenote: gay rights are still really important to me) because, quite frankly, it impacted me more.  Thanks to systems in society for making this possible and for my complacency and ignorance.  In general "we" are treated kindly and "we" don’t get questions...it is how "we" assume everyone is treated.

Here are some examples of things I can do: 

• I can speed
• I can go into a store and not be followed (other than just being a woman—which is a whole different story).      
• I can carry a lot of drugs (mine are legal, but no one would know that until they asked and I have never been asked)
• I can walk in my neighborhood (which includes neighborhoods that are subsidized and non-subsidized) and not be afraid
• I can listen to music is my yard
• I can congregate with friends
•  I can walk in the middle of the road 
• I can approach someone for directions (or anything really) without them being afraid
• I can talk to the security guards on my campus with authority (Why is this the 8^th time I have had to ask to get my classroom unlocked this summer!?!)
• I can have a PhD and not have anyone question how I got it
• I can be angry and people don’t attribute it to my race
• I can express any form of non-compliance and trust that I will be ok
• I can be excellent and people don’t say it is in spite of my race
• I can see people that look like me (white) overwhelmingly in all forms of political office, as CEO’s, as bosses, as TV personalities, as movie stars, as cops
• I can get a soda at a convenient store and while paying, not be shot in the face
• I can go to the Growers Market/Farmers Market and see people like me
•  I can get money or ID out of my pocket without eliciting fear
• I can wear hoodies
• I can freely be out in public when another white lady has committed a crime and hasn't been apprehended 
•  I can be fairly certain my cousin, who is silly and amazing; able to hold a respectable job; smokes weed; owns many guns, and probably carries them on a regular basis isn’t going to be killed with his girlfriend and their child (a dog) in the car.  Come to think of it, I am also pretty sure he could be stoned out of his mind at the traffic stop with a broken tail light and still be OK.  He would be stupid, but ok.  I can say this about most people I know.   That is because most of them are white.

This is my normal.  I have a level of comfort that I identify as status quo that those who are black just don’t have.  In each of the above situations people who are black have to worry.  They have to think about EACH of those things and if it is safe and, maybe more importantly, how they can avoid others acting in a way that threatens their body.  My graduate school colleague who is black can’t say this.  We both moved far away from home for work (he on one coast, me on the other), have solid support systems, both have clean records, and we are both in our 30’s.  The police have stopped me three times in my life.  Two of those I was speeding, one was for a burnt out tail light.  I got a warning for that last one.  All three times I felt annoyed and a little scared--but never for my life.  Terrence has been pulled over more than 30 times.  My friend Aida has to worry about her black son every day in a way that my friend Lynn will not have to worry about her white son, ever. Both live in university towns and are fairly well known in the community.  Peace of mind shouldn’t be something Lynn and I have and Aida and Terrence don't; but that is a fact.

 

I will never know the level of paranoia and fear involved in being black.  I will never know that oppression.  Never.  And that is the point.  We (again, us white folks) will never, and can never be in the shoes of those who are non-white, and yet we want to tell them what their experience was or should be.  We even have videos to contradict our interpretation, yet our white "reality" is believed more than their black, video recorded, truth.  

When we actually recognize our supremacy (which means power and that is what we have--it isn’t a “privilege” if everyone should have it) it means we are acknowledge something is wrong with the system we created.  I like my privilege and my supremacy when I don’t have to acknowledge it.  You are lying if you say you don’t.  Ly-ing.  I don’t want to give it up.  But I am willing to do that if it means Aida doesn't have to teach her son how to not get shot at a traffic stop.  We have to start questioning what we know to be "true".  We want to assign white supremacy only to the David Dukes of the world; but that would also be wrong. 

I am asking my white friends and family (or those who are reading this) to do something.    At the least, smile at people who aren't white...say hello. Be aware that you hold your purse tighter when a person of color walks by.  Go the to MLK Breakfast on MLK day, don't just quote him.  Go to local events that are held by black artists.  Stay in a parking lot if police are questioning someone of color so you can make sure they are safe (and better yet, record it because sometimes, apparently, body cameras fall off).  Peacefully protest.  Commit an act of peaceful civil disobedience to bring awareness to the cause of racial inequity.  Show.your.face.  Don’t be afraid that you will be the only white person.  People of color face this isolation every day and they still show up!  Don't just go to things to be around people that look like you.  Say something when someone you know (or don’t know) makes a racist comment.  Look up the term "microagressions".  Question the media when they show a picture of a murder victim that looks like a thug and not like a family man.  Email and call the shows producer and ask about that choice.  Question when you see a "cleaned up" version of a mug shot for a white kid from Stanford who was found guilty of rape.  When someone says, “all lives matter” or #alllivesmatter ask them if they have used that term at any time that didn’t involve the killing of a black person.  Social media trends say they didn’t, so why use it now?  You don’t have to be rude, but you don’t have to be complacent either.   Vote.

The above things will make people uncomfortable.  White discomfort, ours or others, is not a reason to not stand for a more just and humane society.  Don’t let your fear or uncertainty hold you back.  Question the reality you know.  We should not be allowed to hide behind our fear of what society has told us is “the right (ie: comfortable) way”.  Please feel free to share this and please know, if you are black, I am working on doing better.  Sorry it took me so long.   Amanda