I do not want to talk about race.
I have always had a deep-seated feeling that to discuss another person’s race is verging on taboo. I was taught respect, and the worth of every kind of person. I grew up believing that civil rights for all had been achieved, and we are an equal opportunity nation. I hear of white privilege, black struggle, and I chafe at it. I want to believe that no one’s skin color holds them back in America in 2015.
I am white. I grew up in a comfortable working-class home, in a 97% white town in a 94% white state. The university I attended was over 90% white.
I’ve had friends from many economic backgrounds; poor, rich, and in between. I’ve had the chance to travel more than most. I’ve made my home in a diverse city. But my family, educational, social, and professional experience is as a white person, surrounded mostly by other white people.
I like to think about fixable problems; things that can be solved. It is hard to for me to think about race, and racism, because I do not want to believe that there is still a problem; one that is so difficult. I will go out of my way to find other explanations for societal ills to avoid considering race and racism as a factor. I view poverty, education, culture, and economics as preferable to pondering race.
I sincerely want...or wanted...to believe that race is a non-issue; that it is history.
Trayvon Martin, Michael Brown, Eric Garner, Tamir Rice, and Freddie Gray are changing my mind.
I can’t deny that three black men and two black boys were killed unjustifiably, and I can’t deny that the riots in Ferguson and Baltimore represent the rage of a wronged people who have reached their limit. I don’t know whether race or racism is the root cause of these events, but I know of no white boys shot on sight in a park or walking home with candy and iced tea. I know of no white men whose spines were severed in the back of a police van, or strangled on a sidewalk, pleading for air.
Many white people seem to have arrived at simple, confident opinions about Ferguson, Baltimore, justice, and race. Social media is rife with convenient conclusions.
I see cloying faux solidarity and holier-than-thou expressions of guilt:
The rioters are right and I stand with them.
It’s all you unenlightened *other* white people who are the problem.
We need to check our privilege.
This is white America's fault for centuries of oppression.
I see reductive bloviating and dehumanizing disregard:
The rioters are criminal thugs.
Send in the National Guard, and shoot anyone who damages property.
Black people need to pick themselves up and take responsibility.
We have a black president. Racism is not an excuse anymore.
I don’t know how people can come to these conclusions. They are too quick and too simple. But I can’t stay in the middle; the quiet majority, who see but do and say nothing.
It is not fashionable to say, but I have no suggestions to cure this ill. I am trying to acknowledge that I have certain blind spots. I am trying to start to listen, think, and read about race and racism without putting up a defensive wall in my mind.
I only know a cure is needed. This is the United States of America, and it’s 2015.
I have always had a deep-seated feeling that to discuss another person’s race is verging on taboo. I was taught respect, and the worth of every kind of person. I grew up believing that civil rights for all had been achieved, and we are an equal opportunity nation. I hear of white privilege, black struggle, and I chafe at it. I want to believe that no one’s skin color holds them back in America in 2015.
I am white. I grew up in a comfortable working-class home, in a 97% white town in a 94% white state. The university I attended was over 90% white.
I’ve had friends from many economic backgrounds; poor, rich, and in between. I’ve had the chance to travel more than most. I’ve made my home in a diverse city. But my family, educational, social, and professional experience is as a white person, surrounded mostly by other white people.
I like to think about fixable problems; things that can be solved. It is hard to for me to think about race, and racism, because I do not want to believe that there is still a problem; one that is so difficult. I will go out of my way to find other explanations for societal ills to avoid considering race and racism as a factor. I view poverty, education, culture, and economics as preferable to pondering race.
I sincerely want...or wanted...to believe that race is a non-issue; that it is history.
Trayvon Martin, Michael Brown, Eric Garner, Tamir Rice, and Freddie Gray are changing my mind.
I can’t deny that three black men and two black boys were killed unjustifiably, and I can’t deny that the riots in Ferguson and Baltimore represent the rage of a wronged people who have reached their limit. I don’t know whether race or racism is the root cause of these events, but I know of no white boys shot on sight in a park or walking home with candy and iced tea. I know of no white men whose spines were severed in the back of a police van, or strangled on a sidewalk, pleading for air.
Many white people seem to have arrived at simple, confident opinions about Ferguson, Baltimore, justice, and race. Social media is rife with convenient conclusions.
I see cloying faux solidarity and holier-than-thou expressions of guilt:
The rioters are right and I stand with them.
It’s all you unenlightened *other* white people who are the problem.
We need to check our privilege.
This is white America's fault for centuries of oppression.
I see reductive bloviating and dehumanizing disregard:
The rioters are criminal thugs.
Send in the National Guard, and shoot anyone who damages property.
Black people need to pick themselves up and take responsibility.
We have a black president. Racism is not an excuse anymore.
I don’t know how people can come to these conclusions. They are too quick and too simple. But I can’t stay in the middle; the quiet majority, who see but do and say nothing.
It is not fashionable to say, but I have no suggestions to cure this ill. I am trying to acknowledge that I have certain blind spots. I am trying to start to listen, think, and read about race and racism without putting up a defensive wall in my mind.
I only know a cure is needed. This is the United States of America, and it’s 2015.
RSS Feed
