Two quotations that are apropos as shit for me right now

Be regular and orderly in your life so that you may be violent and original in your work.  - Gustave Flaubert


He has showed you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you, but to do justly, and to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God? - Micah 6:8

Anti-Racist Reading Roundup - January and February

Here's a list of books I read in Jan/Feb.  They're all great.

The Narrative of Sojourner Truth
Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria? - Beverly Daniel Tatum
Other People's Children - Lisa Delpit
Race Matters - Cornel West
Sister Outsider - Audre Lorde (haven't finished)
Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center - bell hooks (haven't finished)
Black Skin, White Masks - Frantz Fanon
The Souls of Black Folk - W. E. B. Dubois

I was never required to read the classics of black literature in my schooling.  This wasn't deemed important because I was never taught that my race, my whiteness is essential to who I am and to my identity as an ethical being.  Conversely, I was taught that my fellow students' Blackness was a footnote to their identities and should not be dwelled upon.  When I did read a classic of African American literature at school (I can only remember reading one or two in my classrooms), this was undertaken as sort of a charitable frivolity, a way of doing lip service to something a hypothetically nice idea.  When we read white literature (which was nearly all we read), we never interrogated the manifestations of whiteness in these contexts.  So now I am reading the corpus of black literature I was never taught in order that I may learn how to stop participating in the dehumanization and devaluation of people of color.

"My alma mater was books, a good library. . . .  I could spend the rest of my life reading, just satisfying my curiosity."
- Malcolm X (saw this quote on the tagline of an email and loved it.)

Everyday Antiracism #1

I've found that as I shed my race blinders, I am now able to "see" racism all over the place that was previously invisible to me.  I've recently been meditating on the notion that my anti-racism needs to be above all oriented in practice.  Theory is deeply important in that it teaches me to "see" the reality of racism and gives me useful tools for how to live well as a white woman.  But theory is no good to anyone if it results only in me "thinking" about racism (which I tend to do a lot), rather than responding to racism in my community.  In short, I'd like to catalog the daily actions I take to interrupt racism in my own life (the "everyday antiracism" moniker is blatantly stolen from the title of an instructive book I read in grad school.) This will fulfill a few purposes:  1. I can hold myself accountable to responding to the racism in my life.  By opening the window and airing the funk of the racism in my life and the way I respond to it, I can get feedback on how and when I can better respond.  2.  It can help white people who are just beginning to learn about racism and to un-ignorant themselves to "see" racism in their own lives and give them some ideas about how to respond.
[to be continued]

Things not to do in conversations about race with women of color: Learned lessons for white women

I'm sharing this because I feel like it was a key part of my learning and I hope it can help others to the extent that it helped me. Any knowledge I have about this topic is the result of the teachings of women of color, and white allies who listened to women of color. If you want to go straight to the source, read Sister Outsider by Audre Lorde, Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center by bell hooks, and [this essay – link] all of whom come at this from a place of expertise and experience which I don't have.

1. Cry

I heard this one a while back, and thought, “Hmm, I wonder what that means. . .” I kept reading and listening and a while later, I thought, “Got it.” When you cry you are calling out to be nurtured and consoled. Learn the long history of white women expecting women of color to nurture and console them to better understand how you are perpetuating oppression when you cry in a conversation about race. When you cry you do yourself no favors because you identify yourself as helpless and infantile.  You will feel better about yourself if you act in ways that reflect the fact that you can be a mature and competent adult woman who has agency.  Listen to what Toni Morrison writes in "What the Black Woman Thinks about Women's Lib."  

Black women have been able to envy white women (their looks, their easy life, the attention they seem to get from their men); they could fear them (for the economic control they have had over black women's lives); and even love them (as mammies and domestic workers can); but black women have found it impossible to respect white women. . . . . Black women have no abiding admiration of white women as competent, complete people, whether vying with them for the few professional slots available to women in general, or moving their dirt from one place to another, they regarded them as willful children, pretty children, mean children, but never as real adults capable of handling the real problems of the world.

When you cry, you are engaging in a diversionary tactic by drawing attention to yourself and away from those who were actually the targets of racism.  You will be perceived as both obnoxious and malicious (even as you receive attention, hugs and comfort when you cry.  It is likely that the person of color who may have "made" you cry will not receive a hug or comfort).

2. Ask, “How can I help?”

Firstly, there is a laundry list about three feet long of things you could do to oppose your own and your community's racism this afternoon alone, and bit by bit, it will start to become visible to you when you get started doing your leg work. When you ask, “How can I help?” it reflects that you are privileged to the extent that you are blind to the everyday racism that's all around you, as well as to the institutional racism that is in your own community. When you stop being blind to it, the obvious answer will be, act address that racism. A better question is, “Can you point me towards resources that will instruct me on ways to fix this particular example of racism that I now am able to see (because I did my legwork) in my community?”

Secondly, asking this is patronizing because it is like announcing, "The white help wagon has arrived!  Let's get started guys!"  People of color have been defying racism on an everyday basis long before you got there and doesn't need you personally (except to stop being racist and get your network of people around you to stop being racist.)  As your blinders come off, you will see that you have your work cut out in that rather unromantic task alone.  (You're not going to get the White Savior pin for the type of work you can be useful doing.)  

3.  Say that you feel guilty.

A lot of times, these talks get usurped by white women talking about their feelings way too much.  It's not about your feelings.  People of color most likely already know your feelings, because they have likely heard a similar version of them already in another conversation with other white people. 

You should by all means feel what you feel, but it is not necessary to talk about it.  Also, don't say that you want to give up because you feel too guilty.  This is your white privilege speaking (White people are the only ones who get to take a "break" from dealing with racism.  Your friends of color are dealing with it on a daily basis, and for them it's a necessity - not a choice. ) Harness your guilt and turn it into something productive by listening and reading more, so that you will learn the tools to do more.  If you are tempted to focus on your own feelings, focus on those of a person of color instead.  Racism is a disease of a decayed empathy and a good place to begin in unlearning racism is to exercise your empathy muscle by caring how a person of color is feeling.  

4.  Say that you feel powerless.  

Embedded in white supremacy is the historical and long standing image of white women as precious, delicate lily flowers who need to be coddled and babied.  You may participate in this internalized image more than you are aware.  When you say that you feel powerless, you participate in this image, which is deleterious to yourself (because you sell yourself short) and to women of color who are expected to worry about not hurting your feelings when they talk about racism.  You will learn the ways that you can stop being powerless when you begin to listen quietly, intently and well.

5.  Patronize people of color.

Do not refer to people of color as wounded, suffering or broken.  For centuries, folks of color from all walks of life have been accomplishing storied and hallowed feats which you probably did not learn about as you were schooled in a culture which teaches and ingrains white supremacy.  Any freedom people of color now possess is theirs not because it was "gifted" to them by powerful white people (freedom is no white man's "gift" to give), but because they took it.  Do not offer or attempt to "save" "wounded" people of color.  White people can help by solving white problems (racism, white normativity, hegemony).  Let people of color solve the problems in their own communities.  They know how to do it better than you do.

6.  Offer a counter-argument.


Things TO DO in conversations with women of color

1. Listen

2. Start reading the seminal works of anti-racism (by people of color) and books about white privilege. Then keep reading and read tirelessly. Reading is like listening and it offers the advantage that it doesn't leave room for Whiteness to engage in the derailing and denial - added bonus.
   
   [this post is in progress - continually adding to it, as there are a lot of rules to cover.]

Privilege and Child Rearing (Reflection of the day)

One of the many functions of white skin privilege is that we raise our children with permissive and indulgent child-rearing methods.  If we fail to correct our own white child's misbehavior we can always trust that they will not get put on the hot seat if they act out outside of our home settings, and a white advocate will be nearby for our child and can be called upon to say on his/her behalf that he/she "didn't really mean it" if need be.  Our white children will always get the benefit of the doubt.  As teachers, we are mystified when black children and especially black boys fail to "respect our authority" even as we actively shirk exercising authority in our classrooms.  We can introduce policemen at our children's school as people who "want to help us" and are deserving of our trust.  Whiteness = being able to brand spanking as the Great Evil of Our Time.  It's like we can think of no better cause to attend to.

Sometimes with racism 101 roundtables I'm concerned that too much time is spent engaging in & obsessing with our newly discovered white privilege, so maybe I'm a fool for giving it more floor time by posting about this.  Our monologues and reflections about what white privilege is like tend to only tell people what they already knew and take away floor time from people who have something more valuable to add to the discussion (mostly people of color).  A certain trope gets passed on that our privilege has hurt us personally and deeply and we feel, like, really bad about it-- when in reality our white privilege has afforded us every luxury under the sun and, as Louis CK so astutely pointed out, and it's not too "hard" receiving this, that and the other without doing anything to earn it.  (To my mind racism is deleterious to white people in that being racists robs us of our empathy, humanity and ability to experience the kind of deep, radical love for others that Dr. Cornel West talks about.  But anyone claiming that enjoying their white privilege is "really hard" for them is probably full of bullshit.)

So anyway, if I'm going to speak about white privilege, I'd like to try to say something useful in doing so.

The reason I wanted to write this is because I saw a video link that showed a black man responding to his nephew who had posted something dumb on Facebook about wanting to be a gangbanger.  The video may well have not been meant for whiteness' eyes, which do not have sufficient vision to be trusted to be able to make sense of sensible things, and which are more likely to take delight in watching a black kid being punished than anything else.  (Call me out if I'm out of line and need to take down part or all of this post.)  The thing that got me about this video is 1. the act of love and protection the black man showed toward his nephew in the style of his discipline.  2.  trying to imagine the reaction of the white people I know if they ever saw this.  Whiteness' understanding is limited such that, if whiteness got its hands on this video, Whiteness' responses would range from "he needs to be nicer!" (ie, be less effective) to "let's call DCYF and report him!" (ie, let's see if we can get him thrown in jail -- for teaching his nephew how not to be thrown in jail as a black youth who is held to an entirely different set of standards he needs to know about).

Black parenting is about survival skills and teaching kids resiliency to withstand whatever will be hurled at them in this racist culture of ours.  White parenting is about the latest new age dilly dalliances and amusing our children, who don't need survival skills because what is there that they will ever need to survive?

[Credit is due to:  writer Lisa Delpit, who edited The Skin We Speak and wrote Other People's Children, for getting me to think critically about these issues.]

In case you still weren't convinced...

Video found at We Are Respectable Negroes where Chauncey lays it all out better than I can.  The video - What a let down.  When the red dress white lady shows up and starts talking, I start thinking, "Yessss!  Finally!  She's going to say it!  Say it! Alllmossst, alllmosst...."  Thennnn comes.... "I wish you would just stop asking about this and talking to me! [burst into tears]"  (Whiteness would like to put in an urgent request that she be removed from having to witness racism second hand or be involved in any discussion thereof, as soon as possible.  You got it, Whiteness!)  Then for the kicker.... "I'm so glad this isn't real!"

Nope, don't worry, Whiteness, it's all just for pretend.  A few further observations:

1.) At 3:20 the white dude asks (when asked why he didn't defend the black woman), "Would you have defended me?" Apparently, Whiteness can envision a scenario in which he is followed around a shopping center because of his race (white).  Sorry, no.

2.) Watch white privilege at work at the end of the film when the white woman "inspires" all the white folk to walk out by her one  comment in response to the racism.  When the black dude says the exact same thing but in a more compelling fashion, no white boycott then.  I can't imagine how frustrating this must be.

Unlearning the White Hero

We need to be clear that there is no such thing as giving up one's privilege to be "outside" the system.  One is always in the system.  The only question is whether one is part of the system in a way that challenges or strengthens the status quo.  Privilege is not something I take and which I therefore have the option of not taking.  It is something that society gives me, and they will continue to give it, and I will continue to have it, however noble and egalitarian my intentions. 

- Harry Brod, from Understanding White Privilege by Frances Kendall

Speaking from personal experience (ie, my own racism), it's kind of marvelous to me how hard the "No, no, no, but that doesn't apply to me - I'm one of the good white people" trope dies.  There's one that's followed me around pretty much all my life, and taken on different forms to reflect my current understandings.

Elementary School
We are taught that racism is a thing of the past. There were Race Good Guys and Race Bad Guys.  The Good Guys won.  All that's left now is the Race Good Guys, and a few straggling KKK members.  You too are a race hero, you learn, though it's not as heroic and cool now that there's "nothing left to fight for."  At around age 7, I learn that I am one of the good guys. At age 8, I go and repeat something I've heard my father say, "Why is there no white history month!"

Middle School
I have begun thinking about what I will be when I grow up, and Dangerous Minds has just come out.  Maybe I will become a white Race Hero and heroically save "urban" schools, which I have been taught cannot be saved without the help of well intentioned white people.

High School
In high school we are taught how to use the phrase "Can we just not bring race into this?" in academic settings.  You know, because we're all race heroes here, right?  We're the good white people, so why bother worrying about race?

College
With white friends, I watch t.v. shows that make jokes about race to show how hilarious racism is.  Check out the subtlety here - The comedian pretends they are racist when of course they could never be real racists.  You know, because we're all white heroes here.  No harm done.  This way we can all laugh at racist comments and no one has to be the bad guy who really meant them.  It's not as if racism is a persistent pattern of dehumanization and abuse.  Why not sprinkle some Holocaust jokes in while we're at it?

Grad School
I am taught a thing or two about white privilege, and now I've arrived.  I'm convinced I've got it and now I'm definitely one of the race good guys.  [A shout out to the directors of the program for first nudging me down the path of anti-racism.  You gave me the biggest gift I could get.  Wish I'd been able to "get it" faster.]

Afterwards
I read a thing or two more, and start to think harder.

Thing is, if I had been given the tools to really get started on the learning(unlearning) process earlier in my life, I could have pinpointed and fixed this earlier on.  Precious time wasted.  That's why it's so necessary to give kids the tools.