Racists' Anonymous - in response to the Zimmerman Verdict

 In response to the court verdict acquitting George Zimmerman of the murder of Trayvon Martin... (Why? One very eloquent black man has explained "why" here: )

Race was at the core of this case and race it why it became a symbol of such great weight and meaning. To us Trayvon Martin was not just murdered, he was martyred. In death he bore witness to the racism and oppression that blacks and other people of colour experience every day. Why was Trayvon Martin threatening to George Zimmerman? For the same reason that I am threatening to the mothers who claw their children back when I smile and wave back to them on the bus, the men who watch me like hawks when I pet their dogs on the street, and the staff who follow me in their stores. Everywhere I go I am a threat, an outsider, an other. I am a threat because you see me, or at least some of me, yet somehow you do not see this. In Trayvon Martin’s death and George Zimmerman’s trial the world, for a moment, saw. For a few short seconds all eyes turned upon a racially motivated crime, upon a black boy killed for blackness itself. But now the world has turned away because the court has comfortably ruled that blackness really is threatening and you really are justified in keeping watch for it in your communities and resisting it with deadly force. We were wrong, it seems. You will not see.

You will not see his martyrdom because it is woven into the frabic of your privilege, the cloth that the world has tied around your eyes. I will see it every time I look in the mirror, because in my brown skin is the crime for which Trayvon Martin died.

From "An open letter to whites about the black community and the Trayvon Martin case" on The Molinist blog

And here is what I say:

I acknowledge that racism exists.
I acknowledge that white privilege exists.
I acknowledge that I benefit from white privilege, and that I am a carrier of the social-cultural virus that is racism.
I acknowledge that I did not choose to be racist, but that I, and I alone, and responsible for the work of deprogramming my racism.

I have, in fact, been racist my whole life. It wasn't a choice I made. It's the way I was trained to see the world. The way I was trained to see reality. It wasn't a choice that anyone before me made either... my family is Good People. We all get along pretty well too.

We are not gun-toting right-to-life'ers; we all generally think that the KKK is fucked; many of us have lots of friends who are people of color... some of us are republican, some of us are Christian, of us are liberal, some of us are atheist, or even pagan. We are not war mongers, and though most of us might not identify as pacifists... our family culture is definitely to be lovers, not fighters.

Those in my parents generation lived through the Civil Rights Movement, and they were trained that Discrimination is Bad. The were trained that Racism is Bad. They were told, Don't Be a Racist. And so that's what they did... laws were made, and policies were put in place to stop people from being racists.

Those in my generation learned about the Civil Rights Movement in school. We learned how the United States used to be racist. How schools and neighborhoods used to be segregated. How people used to be judged on the color of their skin... we learned about how bad things used to be, and how it's sooo much better now... because we have laws and regulations and policies to protect minorities...

But did those laws and regulations and policies really fix anything? Did they actually do anything to stop people from being racist? Or did they just villify the idea of racism... and steal away the grass-roots movement, the real healing process... steal it away from the people and turn it into the prerogative of the bureaucracy... "It's not my job to stop racism... that's what those laws are for..." "I'm not racist, I'm a good person!"

But we are still racist. We are still acting out white supremacy. We are still complacently supporting the ideals and values of the KKK. And what does white supremacy culture look like? Oh, but it's subtle... subtle to us who live inside it, and see the world and the fabric of our reality through its lenses...

White supremacy looks like this:

“I visited Borders Books three or four years ago. I went to buy a book of poems by Gwendolyn Brooks, an African American poet. When I couldn’t find it in the poetry section, I went to the help desk and was told that it was in the African American section, five or sex shelves near the front of the store on which all types of literature by Black people had been placed. In another part of the store, in a similar setup, was the Gay and Lesbian section—literature of all kinds written by gay and lesbian folks. (I forgot to check to see where they had shelved James Baldwin, who was both Black and gay.)

[…]First, I realized that my sister, for example, was unlikely to encounter anything written by someone gay or African American unless she purposefully searched for those shelves, so her learning was curtailed by Borders’s marketing approach. Second, by organizing books in this way, I think the store was assuming that a reader would want something specifically by a Black author, as opposed to just reading a good novel that happened to be written by an African American.

Third…the rest of the literature section was not labeled “straight white fiction." Seriously. So a customer could go to the literature section and look through all the books, never aware that all she or he was seeing was fiction by white authors. The pernicious privilege is: simply don’t include the Other, and then act as though the picture is complete. In a sick way, it is brilliant.”

~ Frances E. Kendall, Understanding White Privilege

White supremacy is when a black friend of yours talks about their experience of racism in some small way, and you explain to them how racism has actually ended, about how the oppressive actions they experienced were not actually racism, how they're just being oversesitive.

In the words of one eloquent black man who has gone to great effort to translate himself to a white audience:

I want racism to end but almost as much I want to stop being told by whites that it has. I want every white person I ever complain to about the years of piling slights, the extra hours at airport security, the half-seen glances from across the bus from eyes that fearfully refuse to meet mine, to respond with compassion and credulity and not to even think about explaining them away or ‘informing’ me that racism died with Rosa Park or MLK or whatever and they would know. I want white people to stop questioning my experience of racism, to stop defending every offender as ‘just doing his job’ or ‘just doing whatever.’
[...]
Here’s the thing: it’s not about you. You are not the one who is slurred, you’re not the one who is refused service, and you’re certainly not the one who is shot in the street. It’s about us. I want you to acknowlegde that fact. To recognise that I experience racism.From "An open letter to whites about the black community and the Trayvon Martin case" on The Molinist blog

 White supremacy is any time we see a black kid walking through a white neighbourhood and assume they don't belong there. White supremacy is that I, as a white kid, could get arrested for shoplifting at the age of 17, and essentially get a very literal "slap on the wrist" by a community board, where a black girl would have had much worse consequences. White supremacy is acted out in our policing and court systems, but also in our schools.

Students of color face harsher punishments in school than their white peers, leading to a higher number of youth of color incarcerated. Black and Hispanic students represent more than 70 percent of those involved in school-related arrests or referrals to law enforcement. Currently, African Americans make up two-fifths and Hispanics one-fifth of confined youth today.
The American Prospect, by Sophia Kerby

White supremacy looks like this:

1 in every 15 African American men and 1 in every 36 Hispanic men are incarcerated in comparison to 1 in every 106 white men.
The American Prospect, by Sophia Kerby

And like this:

U.S. population by race

U.S. inmates by race

Among men born between 1965 and 1969, 3 percent of whites and 20 percent of blacks had served time in prison by their early thirties. Among black men born during this period, 30 percent of those without college education and nearly 60 percent of high school dropouts went to prison by 1999.   -P.A.P. Blog // Human Rights Etc 

White supremacy is the criminalization and villainization of black men. "But," we say, "isn't there a very real reality there...? Isn't it true that those neighborhoods... those populations... those people are inherently more violent? Isn't it just part of the culture...?"

HELL FUCKING NO IT IS NOT. Violence and drug use... those are symptoms of depression. Symptoms of PTSD. Symptoms of the systemic and ongoing oppression that is being enacted on those communities. If we want to reduce crime, the solution is not putting more people in jail. It is exactly the opposite. PUTTING LESS PEOPLE IN JAIL WILL REDUCE CRIME AND POVERTY. Because when 1 in 3 black men is imprisoned in their lifetime, it becomes legal to discriminate against them. It becomes impossible for them to get a job, impossible for them to find housing, nearly impossible for them to turn their lives around to become stable, contributing members of the community in the way that the government, the way that white supremacy says they should...

And the incarceration is a self replicating, self-sustaining downward spiral of oppression, depression, destruction of communities.

 So yeah, there are big fancy statistics that show clearly, without a doubt, that America is still racist. That we are still oppressing black people and people of color, systematically, institutionally...

But I'm a Good Liberal, I'm a A Good Person, and I was taught to Not Be Racist in elementary school... I'm not responsible for all of those black men being in jail...didn't they just "make some bad choices"?

 But race has nothing to do with one's prevalence for criminal behavior. It has nothing to do with it. White people are just as likely to do drugs, engage in domestic violence, shoplift, and steel as people of color are. "But what about gangs? Don't they promote a culture of violence and crime?" Once again, that's a defensive mechanism, a very reasonable and understandable response to an ongoing campaign of violence and war being waged against their communities.


The unavoidable truth is that people of color simply face harsher punishments in the justice systems, and more intense interference and scrutiny by police in their neighborhoods, than white people do.

So again, I'm not a cop... and I'm not a teacher... and I'm not an employer... and I'm not a judge... It's not my fault that all of those black men are in prison. It's not my fault that George Zimmerman shot Trayvon Martin... I live in Seattle, after all, and that happened in Florida...

Except that I am responsible for the programming that I carry. I am still responsible for my actions. My complacency in the death of Trayvon Martin looks like this:

[paraphrasing: A white woman has a conversation in passing with a random man...] "I really like this library--" he said, and I said me too! but he was still going "--because there aren't a bunch of black boys here, so I don't have to worry about my bike getting stolen."
[...]

This man did not have the same struggle for words. He saw the shocked look on my face and was quick to sputter, "I mean, don't get me wrong, I like black people. But other libraries have gangs of these kids roaming around, stealing things and causing trouble, and I just don't want my bike stolen, you know?"

These kids. You know.
[...]

I was scared, and I didn't want to offend him, but as hard as it is for me to tell you this, in that moment, speaking up was less important to me than avoiding an uncomfortable conversation. So, however quick, I made a choice, and it was to stay silent.

Silence kills people. Ideas kill people. Allowing a narrative of the dangerous black boy to perpetuate in my white presence kills people. I made the wrong choice, and I am ashamed. [my emphasis]
From an absolutely brilliant blog post that I highly recommend anyone read all of: "White People" by Katie Prout

 And I, too, am ashamed, because I have been through this exact same scenario more times than I am even conscious of. And the question is how? How do I take responsibility for that? How do I stop being complacent? I have the same answere as Katie Prout: WE TELL THE TRUTH. WE BE BRAVE, AND WE TELL THE TRUTH.

We tell the truth even when it's awkward. We tell the truth even when it makes us feel uncomfortable. We tell the truth even when it hurts someone's feelings. We tell the truth even when there are risks.

The truth is that white people are just as likely to commit crimes as brown and black people. The truth is that people of color walk through the world every day feeling the wounds of racism and oppression in all of the little tiny ways that we don't even realize exist. The truth is that the Scary Black Man is a person. And his life is every bit as precious and important as mine.

The truth is that every time we villanize someone... the Scary Black Man... the Drug Addict... the Criminal Thief... every time we create an Other, somewhere down the line our story results in real death.

The question, is not "How do we properly punish Zimmerman?" because I do not believe that punishment works. Punishing Zimmerman won't help end racism any more than imprisoning all of those black men stops violent crime. That said, finding Zimmerman guilty of murder could have been a powerful message saying that this behavior is not acceptable. Instead, we condoned his actions. We said "yes, it was reasonable for you to assume that this kid was dangerous based on racial profiling."

But the real question is "How do we heal?" How do we support the oppressed communities of color in healing from their decades of trauma..? How do we heal ourselves from the decades-long trauma of being racist? The trauma of being the villain? One place is to stop villanizing everyone. We villanize the Scary Black Man, and we villanize the Corrupt Police, and we villanize the Gun-Toting Racist... but all of that villanization and "justice" and punishment... it just keeps perpetuating the same cycles of violence.

HOW DO WE HEAL?

We begin by listening. We begin by acknowledging uncomfortable truths. We begin by forgiving ourselves. We begin by breaking down any and all construction of "other-ness". This is not to say that we ignore cultural differences. I am not advocating "color-blindness". Only that we see our wonderful, amazing diversity, and all of the beautiful different ways that people can be in the world, and celebrate that and respect it, and also know when any of us suffers, we all suffer. While all of those black men are in prison... while all of those communities suffer in violence and chaos caused by decades of oppression... I can have no peace. My healing is not complete without their healing, and my prosperity is meaningless without their prosperity.

Villainizing Zimmerman won't help us heal. He needs healing as much as any of us. But his healing is not the responsibility of the black community. His healing is my responsibility. It is the responsibility of his community. But most of all, it is his responsibility. Villanizing racism and equating it with the most extreme, most violent version of itself will not help us heal. We heal by bringing it out into the light, looking at it closely and understanding it. We heal by acknowledging its existence.

Racism is indeed a socio-cultural disease. It is an addiction. As a white person, I see how my complacency in the racist system is another way in which I have been trained to oppress myself. And like forgiveness, healing it is not a light-switch that I suddenly get to switch off and then be done. It is an ongoing, lifelong process. It is a process of being open and vulnerable. It is a process of allowing people say to me "This behavior you just did, it was racist." And it is a process of becoming brave enough to say these things myself, when appropriate.

But none of this can be accomplished without compassion and forgiveness. Because without those, we just continue perpetuating the cycles of violence... and each of us begins with choosing to have compassion and forgiveness for ourselves. For our deepest, darkest demons and monsters.

Layers of privilege, and the word "bitch"

Ok so there's a little story that's been stuck in my head. It's the story of how I got from a point of being defensive about my act of cultural appropriation, to realization, understanding, and gratitude to the people who were calling me out. 

Nobody is asking me for this post, but it's stuck in my head and I gotta get it out.  Because there's a lot of white people out there who just don't understand and I haven't been brave enough to go and bring up this conversation with them, like,

 "Hey, you remember when I was doing that art project, and we talked about it, and we were both like, 'naw, dude, that's totally fine.' Yeah, remember that? Well just so you know, it actually wasn't fine."

I haven't been brave enough, because the reaction I expect to get from many is basically this: "What? No, you're crazy!" Because the thing I wasn't brave enough to do in the first place was to ignore all of those other privileged white people who gave me all sorts of layers of excuses, and I wanted to hang onto the threads of approval from the few indigenous people who thought it was fine, who liked the art, who appreciated all of my consideration.

So in the first place, if it is a grey area, it was never my place to argue the nuances of it.  That discussion belongs to the people whose culture I was appropriating. As a white lady with privilege, looking for ways to proactively de-construct and de-program my white privilege, it's my job to respect and uphold the most sensitive interpretation of that boundary.

And here's why: (bear with me, it's a story) 
In the midst of my defensiveness, while I was spending a few days indulging in emotive petulance - even at the height of my self-justification - I just kept having flashes of the feelings I get when I try to call out dudes for various versions of sexism and male privilege, and the way they brush me off, all defensive and like, 

"Naw, I'm not sexist, you're being over sensitive."

And I thought about how shitty and shut-down that makes me feel. I thought about the nauseating punched-in-the-gut-feeling I get whenever I hear someone (of any gender) use the word "bitch" as an insult or negative curse.  And I do hear it, OFTEN.  And every time I hear someone say it, it hurts. 

[I am skipping the work of explaining why "bitch" is such a hurtful word to me, but a friend and blogger has eloquently explained it in detail here "On the Word Bitch". I highly recommend her writing.]

I usually don't call men out on using the word "bitch". Because telling a man that he is sexast is a scary thing to do. Because they get all angry and threatening, like, "What??? What the fuck are you talking about?"  Or are supremely dismissive, which is often much worse. I don't usually put the effort into checking someone unless I am fond of them and feel like I have some investment in my friendship with them. I don't put the effort into checking people unless I have already have some respect for them.

And the thing is, that's often when it hurts the most to be dismissed. Some crotchety old dude who mostly spends time immersed in violent male culture of some sort, like, say the construction industry (a violent male space I have way too much experience in)... I don't have a lot of expectations.  A guy like that uses the word "bitch" and it's easier to brush it off.  But when some liberal, perhaps an activist guy, perhaps someone I think of as an ally... someone I feel safe around... bandies about this word... well that especially stings. Or this dude talks over me in a conversation, or ignores my opinions in deference to some other dude, or wants to hit on me or flirt with me in "professional" space, or say something about my appearance and be all like, "what, it's just a compliment, can't I give you a compliment?" 

When a guy who I think I can feel SAFE around exhibits some sexist thing... I think: ok, well I'm friends with this guy, that means it's safe for me to check him. It's safe for me to say, "Hey, I think you're being kinda sexist there." And I hope he'll respond like, "oh thanks for letting me know, I didn't realize that was a thing". 

But more likely, the response is something like, "Phfffff.  Whatever, you're just being oversensitive." [insert dudely diatribe about the feminist conspiracy to disempower men].  And very rarely do I respond further.  I usually don't argue much, I just mutter something like, "huh, your experience of reality is different from mine..." and let it go. 

Because I don't feel safe. Being shot down once, I'm not likely to put myself out there and push the issue. Partly, that's just me... direct conflict is intensely difficult for me to deal with. A lot of that is Seattle's passive-aggressive culture... a culture of avoiding direct conflict.  'Cause let's face it: white people [the dominant culture of wealth and privilege] in Seattle seriously cannot handle direct conflict.  We'll do almost anything to avoid it.

Another layer is my conditioning as a woman - conditioning that tells me to Always Be Nice, Don't Make Other People Feel Bad, Your Opinion Is Less Important Than Other People's Feelings. Conditioning that perpetuates the sexist programming that makes those guys think it's okay for them to insult each other with the word "bitch", or to refer to some fierce person who intimidates them, or whom they want to belittle. 

[Here there could be a whole separate blog post about aggressive male conditioning giving men permission to make other people feel uncomfortable all the time... rewarding them for imposing their thoughts, opinions, dominance on others... I don't quite have time here.  But this other lady wrote a great post about it...]

And then there's the further layers of hurt and betrayal I feel when I hear women use the word as a negative insult... and it can be so much harder to call them on it, because they often feel entitled, or they've internalized so much oppression and sexism, that they're even more dismissive of the conversation than men are.

Anyways... me and my passive-aggressive self don't generally push it much.  If I do call someone on sexist language or behavior and it's batted down, I usually don't have the energy to counter. I shut down. I feel a little less safe around that person.  I close myself off and share myself less.  I may still be friendly, but I'm usually less excited about trying to hang out with them.  I certainly don't allow them into my sacred space.  I trust them less. 

And maybe that dude is on their own time, doing their own work. Maybe they did hear my words, but they weren't brave enough to acknowledge it in front of the other dudes... maybe they'll come around to the realization slowly... but by the time they do, I've already felt shut down... I've already decided that I'm not as excited as I thought I was about being friends with them... I still trust them less.

So I thought about all of this. And I thought about all of the people who were writing angry comments about how much bullshit I was perpetrating making dreamcatchers.  "It seems like a grey area..." "I think I'm being respectful..." and a whole bunch of people said,

"Oh hell no. You are in, fact, being a privileged white jerk." 

And at first I got defensive, at first I started to say, "well actually, no, it's fine, and let me explain to you why..." which is exactly what dudes do when I tell them I think they're being sexist and they try to explain to me when and where it is appropriate for me to feel offended... they try to define my experience... And you know what?  No one gets to define my experience but ME. 

I realized, "Oh shit, I'm doing the same thing that those privileged sexist dudes do. I'm doing it to these people of color and indigenous people. Huh. No wonder they're pissed off at me..."

I am learning... I am a slow learner.  De-programming my white middle-class privilege is an act no less profound than dismantling and re-assembling the fabric of my own reality. It can be destabilizing. It is pretty scary [where there is fear, there is power]. My process is slow, and often messy. I happen to be a little more melodramatic about it than some... But it also feels like freedom. And it is sooo much better than staying asleep, sick, complacent...

I try to remember this feeling and have compassion for the dudes when I tell them they're being sexist assholes... But sometimes the energy of getting up the gumption to confront people on their privilege uses up all of the energy we have for being gentle. Which is why, when people get pissed at me, I try very hard not to be defensive, I try to listen carefully to what they're saying. 

I could have done better at that this last time, with the dreamcatchers.  And that is why I ended up needing to apologise. The same lessons get repeated over and over again until we learn...

Maybe this experience and writing this post will help me be more proactive in calling people out on their privilege. Maybe it will also help me be more gentle about it, understanding that it's big work to tell someone to reconstruct the foundation of their perception of reality... Because while I understand the anger that many people feel about all of the layers of oppression.... and I generally agree that the anger is valuable and valid... I personally don't have the energy to be angry all the time.  But I think I do have the energy to be gentle, and take on the work of helping to teach privileged people to see through other's eyes.

And certainly, it has taught me to be more responsive to people telling me when I am crossing a line, violating boundaries.