Are White People Inherently Racist?
This week's readings, and especially "I Am Not Your Negro" (2018), have forced me to come to very honest terms with my own internalized biases in regards specifically to race.
I grew up in a small, predominantly white town and so never really thought about race. For years, I considered this to be an asset - how could I be racist if I'd never been told to hate people of color (POC)? How could I be racist when I was raised to judge people based on their character, and not on their appearance?
It wasn't until the protests in Ferguson, Missouri in 2014 that I began to come to terms with the fact that my whiteness, by default, placed me in a position to not only be ignorant to racism, but to perpetuate it without even realizing. I have mostly to thank authors and activists of color for writing articles about race-based police brutality and putting the lifelong experiences of POC into terms understandable by white people.
As we move into what I keep seeing referred to as the new civil rights movement, I'm struck by how much white people needed to see, witness, watch the injustice and brutality happening in order to believe it. I see comments about how things are "worse than ever" now, but POC have been trying to tell us for years, we just never believed it without proof.
There are two quotes from the film that really stood out to me as just as relevant these days as when James Baldwin said them in the first place.
"I'm terrified at the moral apathy, at the death of the heart, which is happening in my country" (Peck, 2018).
I know I'm guilty of this - perhaps not apathy exactly, but a feeling of hopelessness and overcome with compassion fatigue. Since the 2016 election, it feels like things only get worse and worse, with no progress at all. This year, 2020, feels like an eternity of bad news about which most people can do nothing. Being confronted day after day with horrific scenes from protests, destruction from natural disasters, and ongoing brutality against POC makes it hard to feel like any action is making a difference. I fear that people with societal privilege aren't seeing changes as rapidly as they may be used to and will be inclined to give up in the face of that which seems impossible.
"But what one does realize is that when you try to stand up, and look the world in the face as if you had a right to be here, you have attacked the entire power structure of the western world" (Peck, 2018).
We see this play out again and again as Black Lives Matter activists demand justice, and counter-protesters only respond with "All Lives Matter". The very act of POC and allies asking for equal treatment under the law is viewed as an affront to privileged lives, so much so that ALM supports will go to almost any length to defend police brutality, even against children. At the very beginning of the film, when discussing integration in schools, a woman is recorded saying, "God forgives murder [...] but He is very angry, and He curses all who integrate" (Peck, 2018). This was not a shocking statement at the time, and I feel it wouldn't be that shocking now, either. The implication is that murder is a better option than integration - and right now across the country and world, we see calls for murder over acknowledgment that POC are at greater risk of harm and death from law enforcement. If they didn't want to be killed, maybe they shouldn't have broken the law, right?
Sources:
Peck, R. (Director). (2018). I Am Not Your Negro
[Motion Picture].
Emily, I had similar reactions to the reading and film this week and I appreciate your honesty and humility in writing about your realizations relative to racism. The quote about "... looking the world in the face as if one had the right to be here" caused such a visceral reaction for me as well. I agree that (some) white people probably now "believe" that things are as bad as James Baldwin knew and witnessed that they have always been, but even so, it is shameful that one only learns of this if they seek it out. It is an obvious first step to teach actual, ugly and truthful history to our children but beyond that, I realize that I don't know how to be instrumental towards change. Even saying that gives me pause as it solidifies the stance that my privilege allows me to not think about racism on a daily (or moment to moment) basis because I don't have to in the same way that a BIPOC does due to living with its effects. However, while it is true that I don't have the answers, that doesn't mean I can't challenge the lie when I hear beneficiaries of its existence. Even if I trip over my words and speak with a shaky voice, now that I understand "the lie" and the lengths white people have gone to perpetuate it, I have no excuse for not challenging it whenever possible. I have to always speak up when people in the lunchroom say NFL National Anthem kneelers aren't patriots or that black people wouldn't get killed by law enforcement if they would just do what they are told. Once one understands the lie and how it has been imbedded into our lives, we cannot "un know" it, passively allow its existence, and remain silent when it is perpetuated.
ReplyDelete"Unknown" is me... I keep getting logged out of comments.
DeleteEmily,
ReplyDeleteI am intrigued by your comment about white people "needing to see brutality/injustice to believe it is real". One of the things that surprised me over the last few months is how frequently and easily people shared videos of POC being beaten, shot, or killed on the street. I remember one video circulating of a man being murdered by police--he literally died on camera!--and wondering why people would want to consume such a video. Granted, crime shows and podcasts are fairly popular in our society... but there is something different about watching a real life murder happen on camera. That also makes me wonder how someone could stand and film the brutality without calling someone. (Though, who do you call for help when the police are doing the killing?)
It is pretty frustrating that we tend to not believe the experiences of black individuals. There are studies that have shown that many doctors think that black people do not feel pain the same as white people, meaning that they tend to go without needed treatment. Black women also die more often as a result of childbirth/complications than white women. This is also probably due to the fact that medical professionals don't believe them. I wonder what we can do as social workers to change this pattern?
Watching the documentary, I was struck how almost all of it is applicable today. Seeing images and clips from the past 10 years interspersed with images from the 50's and 60's is telling. The US often applauds itself for the progress made (a black President! the most diverse group of candidates in a presidential primary!) -- but what's really different? Glaude's explanation of our cyclical response to change makes total sense - the election of President Obama was presented as an 'end' to racism. In reality, it was just the genesis for the next round of white superiority that led to the election of Donald Trump.
ReplyDeleteEmily, you make fantastic points and raise such critical self-reflective questions of how we each individually play a role within the racial hierarchy, whether its direct or indirect. I have come to the similar realization in my undergraduate years in which was during the 2014 Fergeson riots and the 2016 election. These events led me, personally, to desire more information and education on the real history of the black community instead of the white based education that I had previously known through public schools. I found it to be extremely difficult to come to terms with the history and the current policies and systems that are put in place to oppress the black community.
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