A Sense of Doubt blog post #1939 - Why is it so hard for white people to talk about racism?
Three articles to share with a link to a fourth among many other links for continued reading or more information.
Two of the articles were published before the murder of George Floyd on May 25th. I already had those two articles queued up here in my set of draft blog entries, ready to post.
Having this content ready does not prove I am prophetic or the authors -- Robin DiAngelo and Melanie Mallon -- are prophetic. It simply proves that race and racism are important issues in our world, especially our American country and culture.
First, I am sharing an article Dr. Ron DiAngelo wrote for The Good Men Project published on Medium. There's also these graphics that explain much of (not all of) what's contained in that article, which redacts her book White Fragility, which has been on my to-read list for well over a year, maybe closer to two years. As you can imagine, these books have moved to the top of the list.
White people need to confront these issues around privilege and racism, work to be anti-racist instead of simply "not racist," and deal with implicit bias and near invisible privilege no matter how uncomfortable it makes them, makes us. I include myself in this process, and I have been working to really own these values and make them reality.
The Melanie Mallon article from Skepchick collects Twitter posts by Michael Harriot about the history of racism in America and doesn't even share all of them, so one must click the link at the end to read the rest.
Lastly, there's an article written and published, again on Medium, since George Floyd's murder by Taylor Alarcón. The article explores Alcaron's struggles with the issue and what we can all do, though mostly we white people, to help.
WE MUST HELP actively and ardently not passively.
Do not scroll on by.
Participate in your world.
I’ve been getting a lot of questions from my non-Black friends about how to be a better ally to Black people. I suggest unlearning and relearning through literature as just one good jumping off point, and have broken up my anti-racist reading list into sections: pic.twitter.com/gj5uko69OY— Victoria Alexander (@victoriaalxndr) May 30, 2020
White Fragility: Why It’s so Hard To Talk to White People About Racism - via @pensignal https://t.co/ONy6kIvCFY #Racism #WhiteFragility #SystemicRacism #WhitePrivilege #WhiteSupremacy— The Good Men Project (@GoodMenProject) March 20, 2020
https://medium.com/equality-includes-you/white-fragility-why-its-so-hard-to-talk-to-white-people-about-racism-473d91b5091c
White Fragility: Why It’s so Hard To Talk to White People About Racism
Here’s why white people implode when talking about race.
I am white. I have spent years studying what it means to be white in a society that proclaims race meaningless, yet is deeply divided by race. This is what I have learned: Any white person living in the United States will develop opinions about race simply by swimming in the water of our culture. But mainstream sources — schools, textbooks, media — don’t provide us with the multiple perspectives we need.
Yes, we will develop strong emotionally laden opinions, but they will not be informed opinions. Our socialization renders us racially illiterate. When you add a lack of humility to that illiteracy (because we don’t know what we don’t know), you get the break-down we so often see when trying to engage white people in meaningful conversations about race.
Mainstream dictionary definitions reduce racism to individual racial prejudice and the intentional actions that result. The people that commit these intentional acts are deemed bad, and those that don’t are good. If we are against racism and unaware of committing racist acts, we can’t be racist; racism and being a good person have become mutually exclusive. But this definition does little to explain how racial hierarchies are consistently reproduced.
Social scientists understand racism as a multidimensional and highly adaptive system — a system that ensures an unequal distribution of resources between racial groups. Because whites built and dominate all significant institutions, (often at the expense of and on the uncompensated labor of other groups), their interests are embedded in the foundation of U.S. society.
While individual whites may be against racism, they still benefit from the distribution of resources controlled by their group. Yes, an individual person of color can sit at the tables of power, but the overwhelming majority of decision-makers will be white. Yes, white people can have problems and face barriers, but systematic racism won’t be one of them. This distinction — between individual prejudice and a system of unequal institutionalized racial power — is fundamental. One cannot understand how racism functions in the U.S. today if one ignores group power relations.
This systemic and institutional control allows those of us who are white in North America to live in a social environment that protects and insulates us from race-based stress. We have organized society to reproduce and reinforce our racial interests and perspectives. Further, we are centered in all matters deemed normal, universal, benign, neutral and good. Thus, we move through a wholly racialized world with an unracialized identity (e.g. white people can represent all of humanity, people of color can only represent their racial selves).
Challenges to this identity become highly stressful and even intolerable. The following are examples of the kinds of challenges that trigger racial stress for white people:
- Suggesting that a white person’s viewpoint comes from a racialized frame of reference (challenge to objectivity);
- People of color talking directly about their own racial perspectives (challenge to white taboos on talking openly about race);
- People of color choosing not to protect the racial feelings of white people in regards to race (challenge to white racial expectations and need/entitlement to racial comfort);
- People of color not being willing to tell their stories or answer questions about their racial experiences (challenge to the expectation that people of color will serve us);
- A fellow white not providing agreement with one’s racial perspective (challenge to white solidarity);
- Receiving feedback that one’s behavior had a racist impact (challenge to white racial innocence);
- Suggesting that group membership is significant (challenge to individualism);
- An acknowledgment that access is unequal between racial groups (challenge to meritocracy);
- Being presented with a person of color in a position of leadership (challenge to white authority);
- Being presented with information about other racial groups through, for example, movies in which people of color drive the action but are not in stereotypical roles, or multicultural education (challenge to white centrality).
Not often encountering these challenges, we withdraw, defend, cry, argue, minimize, ignore, and in other ways push back to regain our racial position and equilibrium. I term that push back white fragility.
This concept came out of my on-going experience leading discussions on race, racism, white privilege and white supremacy with primarily white audiences. It became clear over time that white people have extremely low thresholds for enduring any discomfort associated with challenges to our racial worldviews.
We can manage the first round of challenge by ending the discussion through platitudes — usually something that starts with “People just need to,” or “Race doesn’t really have any meaning to me,” or “Everybody’s racist.” Scratch any further on that surface, however, and we fall apart.
Socialized into a deeply internalized sense of superiority and entitlement that we are either not consciously aware of or can never admit to ourselves, we become highly fragile in conversations about race. We experience a challenge to our racial worldview as a challenge to our very identities as good, moral people. It also challenges our sense of rightful place in the hierarchy. Thus, we perceive any attempt to connect us to the system of racism as a very unsettling and unfair moral offense.
The following patterns make it difficult for white people to understand racism as a system and lead to the dynamics of white fragility. While they do not apply to every white person, they are well-documented overall:
Segregation: Most whites live, grow, play, learn, love, work and die primarily in social and geographic racial segregation. Yet, our society does not teach us to see this as a loss. Pause for a moment and consider the magnitude of this message: We lose nothing of value by having no cross-racial relationships. In fact, the whiter our schools and neighborhoods are, the more likely they are to be seen as “good.” The implicit message is that there is no inherent value in the presence or perspectives of people of color. This is an example of the relentless messages of white superiority that circulate all around us, shaping our identities and worldviews.
The Good/Bad Binary: The most effective adaptation of racism over time is the idea that racism is conscious bias held by mean people. If we are not aware of having negative thoughts about people of color, don’t tell racist jokes, are nice people, and even have friends of color, then we cannot be racist. Thus, a person is either racist or not racist; if a person is racist, that person is bad; if a person is not racist, that person is good. Although racism does of course occur in individual acts, these acts are part of a larger system that we all participate in. The focus on individual incidences prevents the analysis that is necessary in order to challenge this larger system. The good/bad binary is the fundamental misunderstanding driving white defensiveness about being connected to racism. We simply do not understand how socialization and implicit bias work.
Individualism: Whites are taught to see themselves as individuals, rather than as part of a racial group. Individualism enables us to deny that racism is structured into the fabric of society. This erases our history and hides the way in which wealth has accumulated over generations and benefits us, as a group, today. It also allows us to distance ourselves from the history and actions of our group. Thus we get very irate when we are “accused” of racism, because as individuals, we are “different” from other white people and expect to be seen as such; we find intolerable any suggestion that our behavior or perspectives are typical of our group as a whole.
Entitlement to racial comfort: In the dominant position, whites are almost always racially comfortable and thus have developed unchallenged expectations to remain so. We have not had to build tolerance for racial discomfort and thus when racial discomfort arises, whites typically respond as if something is “wrong,” and blame the person or event that triggered the discomfort (usually a person of color). This blame results in a socially-sanctioned array of responses towards the perceived source of the discomfort, including: penalization; retaliation; isolation and refusal to continue engagement. Since racism is necessarily uncomfortable in that it is oppressive, white insistence on racial comfort guarantees racism will not be faced except in the most superficial of ways.
Racial Arrogance: Most whites have a very limited understanding of racism because we have not been trained to think in complex ways about it and because it benefits white dominance not to do so. Yet, we have no compunction about debating the knowledge of people who have thought complexly about race. Whites generally feel free to dismiss these informed perspectives rather than have the humility to acknowledge that they are unfamiliar, reflect on them further, or seek more information.
Racial Belonging: White people enjoy a deeply internalized, largely unconscious sense of racial belonging in U.S. society. In virtually any situation or image deemed valuable in the dominant society, whites belong. The interruption of racial belonging is rare and thus destabilizing and frightening to whites and usually avoided.
Psychic freedom: Because race is constructed as residing in people of color, whites don’t bear the social burden of race. We move easily through our society without a sense of ourselves as racialized. Race is for people of color to think about — it is what happens to “them” — they can bring it up if it is an issue for them (although if they do, we can dismiss it as a personal problem, the race card, or the reason for their problems). This allows whites much more psychological energy to devote to other issues and prevents us from developing the stamina to sustain attention on an issue as charged and uncomfortable as race.
Constant messages that we are more valuable: Living in a white dominant context, we receive constant messages that we are better and more important than people of color. For example: our centrality in history textbooks, historical representations and perspectives; our centrality in media and advertising; our teachers, role-models, heroes and heroines; everyday discourse on “good” neighborhoods and schools and who is in them; popular TV shows centered around friendship circles that are all white; religious iconography that depicts God, Adam and Eve, and other key figures as white. While one may explicitly reject the notion that one is inherently better than another, one cannot avoid internalizing the message of white superiority, as it is ubiquitous in mainstream culture.
These privileges and the white fragility that results prevent us from listening to or comprehending the perspectives of people of color and bridging cross-racial divides. The antidote to white fragility is on-going and life-long, and includes sustained engagement, humility, and education. We can begin by:
- Being willing to tolerate the discomfort associated with an honest appraisal and discussion of our internalized superiority and racial privilege.
- Challenging our own racial reality by acknowledging ourselves as racial beings with a particular and limited perspective on race.
- Attempting to understand the racial realities of people of color through authentic interaction rather than through the media or unequal relationships.
- Taking action to address our own racism, the racism of other whites, and the racism embedded in our institutions — e.g., get educated and act.
“Getting it” when it comes to race and racism challenges our very identities as good white people. It’s an ongoing and often painful process of seeking to uncover our socialization at its very roots. It asks us to rebuild this identity in new and often uncomfortable ways. But I can testify that it is also the most exciting, powerful, intellectually stimulating and emotionally fulfilling journey I have ever undertaken. It has impacted every aspect of my life — personal and professional.
I have a much deeper and more complex understanding of how society works. I can challenge much more racism in my daily life, and I have developed cherished and fulfilling cross-racial friendships I did not have before.
I do not expect racism to end in my lifetime, and I know that I continue to have problematic racist patterns and perspectives. Yet, I am also confident that I do less harm to people of color than I used to. This is not a minor point of growth, for it impacts my lived experience and that of the people of color who interact with me. If you are white I urge you to take the first step — let go of your racial certitude and reach for humility.
—
Help stop Racism, Sexism and Homophobia. Become a Member. Join our social interest group calls.
***
This post was previously published on The Good Men Project.
More recently, DiAngelo here:
https://www.cnn.com/2020/06/07/health/white-fragility-robin-diangelo-wellness/index.html
More recently, DiAngelo here:
https://www.cnn.com/2020/06/07/health/white-fragility-robin-diangelo-wellness/index.html
https://skepchick.org/2020/02/the-evolution-of-racism-in-america/
The Evolution of Racism in America
Root
Melanie Mallon
https://medium.com/equality-includes-you/what-do-white-people-think-when-they-see-black-people-murdered-on-the-internet-b2138256bbc7
What Do White People Think When They See Black People Murdered on the Internet?
White people have the privilege of ignoring the videos; how do we get them to care?
May 27 · 5 min read
AS a black man, I can’t watch the videos anymore, as important as they might be.
My heart hurts. My brain hurts. It’s nothing but unfair.
Within the black community across the country, we’re seeing with time: you can try to avoid it, but there is no way to escape being black in American society. Clearly, it doesn’t matter if you’re poor or rich, uneducated or college graduated, mixed or full. If you’re black, you’re black, and you’re going to see it, if not in your day-to-day life then surely on your timeline.
As this continues to happen, I continue to see an increasing influx of people of color having their “wake up” moment, treating their Twitter feeds how James Baldwin treated his notebook. I can’t help but think of the raw, dark humor I often see on ‘black Twitter’ in particular:
“Have we tried capturing footage of police killing dogs on camera? Have we tried that approach to get white people to start caring?”
I see lots of colorful profile pictures making colorfully bold statements, but I continue to beg the question: how do my white friends feel about all this?
After all, they’re awfully silent.
And in particular, what do white people think when they see black people, week in and week out for years now, being murdered on the internet?
Ican tell you how I feel, although with a little reflection and empathy, I’m sure you’d guess.
And let it be known that I am speaking from my own experience, and that my thoughts alone do not speak for the entire black community at large here.
I feel sick to my stomach, like I’m going to throw up. I feel dizzy, lightheaded, and groggy — an inability to focus on whatever task I have at hand at any given moment in time. Complementing the physical conditions, I also feel an overwhelming mixture of fear for my life, sadness for those lost, and anger towards the perpetrators. They say the moment before you die, your life flashes before your eyes. I can tell you right now that every time a person of color is killed at the hands of law enforcement, and in particular when the murder is caught on video, my life flashes before my eyes.
Itis my personal belief that no one deserves to die, whether or not that person is “guilty” or innocent; I am a believer in schools over prisons, in education over reprimand.
So when I see human beings, black, brown or otherwise, murdered in cold blood, often in the streets of their own neighborhood and surrounded by their community, I immediately think about my own circumstance, or that of my loved ones, my closest friends, my little brother and loved ones, who also certainly do not deserve it but at any given moment can lose their lives at the hands of the very people designated to serve & protect them. I think about walking through the subway in New York City in 2016 and passing by two [white] police officers who give me a grim look up and down, each with a firm grip on the respective handguns on their waists, mentally assessing whether or not I am “trouble.” I think about my 9-year-old brother running around the playground or the mall, being falsely accused of doing something he didn’t do; after all, Emmitt Till was only 14. I think of my black best friend being pulled over in the dark of night in the middle of Iowa during a cross-country road trip, and how much of a surprise it was when we got let off with a warning. I think about how at any point in time, I could be running through the neighborhood on a jog and be assumed a thief, and that, without any opportunity to defend my innocence, can be pursued and executed as such.
Ican go on and on, but for the most part, I think white people can figure this out for themselves, if they just gave it some serious thought:
Maybe, imagine a war going on outside; you can’t leave your house because you are in fear of your safety because, say, the Taliban has entered the United States and are going around stopping, frisking, and in the worst scenario killing helpless, innocent Americans.
For black people, the police are the biggest, scariest gang there is.
For black people, the police are like the Taliban. They are terrorists and murderers. Trust me — I know how powerful of a claim that is, but I promise, I am not speaking in hyperbole.
And you know what the scariest part is? Police actually get away with it.
SO what do white people think of all this? Do they avoid videos like many people of color do to avoid the trauma? Do they watch the videos, think “man, that’s crazy,” then keep scrolling? Or do you actually speak up, knowing that anyone being murdered is still a murder, and that especially in the hands of law enforcement, something is clearly wrong with the justice system. Or maybe, just maybe, they turn a blind eye because they think black people had it coming.
Amidst this election year, I’ve been having many critical conversations with friends and family and closely monitoring online forums like the New York Times comments sections. Part of my analysis is that it has become a very apparent and uniquely American attitude that if an issue doesn’t directly apply to you, then it doesn’t matter (even though there are ways you can help). It happens with healthcare, it happens with immigration, and it very much happens with police brutality.
As important as the videos are, they have become numbing and overwhelming. But because I am black, I do not have the privilege of ignoring them.
Obviously it’s time for more swift and rigorous action, but first, somehow, we need to invite non-black people to the dialogue, and hopefully (*fingers crossed*) get them to care.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 2006.09 - 10:10
- Days ago = 1803 days ago
- New note - On 1807.06, I ceased daily transmission of my Hey Mom feature after three years of daily conversations. I plan to continue Hey Mom posts at least twice per week but will continue to post the days since ("Days Ago") count on my blog each day. The blog entry numbering in the title has changed to reflect total Sense of Doubt posts since I began the blog on 0705.04, which include Hey Mom posts, Daily Bowie posts, and Sense of Doubt posts. Hey Mom posts will still be numbered sequentially. New Hey Mom posts will use the same format as all the other Hey Mom posts; all other posts will feature this format seen here.
No comments:
Post a Comment