Let's Talk About Racism
I understand and fully confess that I, a straight, white male born into a middle-class family and raised in a predominantly caucasian region in the United States, am probably not the best source for first-hand experiences about issues of racism or really any sort of prejudice in any way. I have benefitted from certain privileges that not all people have, and while this frustrates me because I know that I'm not better than anyone else and I don't deserve those favors, I feel it would be unfair if I didn't make it clear from the beginning that I am aware of them. I spent a lot of time wondering if my voice even matters, or if I should just sit back and let those who have been more personally impacted by racism take the floor. But I feel that silence on my end would be unfair to those very people. In writing this, I make no attempt to draw attention from the people who have suffered more than I have or who have been left behind by a system that was supposed to be based on the belief that "all men are created equal." Instead, I simply want to express a few of my thoughts regarding the problem of racial injustice that exists in this country. I am aware that racism exists in many forms and in many places throughout the world, but I will only speak in terms of racism against people of color in the United States because that's all I really feel like I know anything enough about to talk about. With that in mind, let's get started.
Nearly three weeks ago in Minneapolis, Minnesota, a black man by the name of George Floyd was killed after a police officer knelt on his neck for nearly nine minutes to restrain him as he was being arrested. This occurrence is the most recent in a long series of stories of violence employed against people of color without reason. Throughout the history of the United States, there has been case after case of people (many of them, police officers) using excessive (and often deadly) force against someone simply because of the color of their skin. I'm sure you have heard of many of the victims. Eric Garner. Breonna Taylor. Ahmaud Arbery. Trayvon Martin. The list goes on, and on, and on. There's a wikipedia page of more than 200 cases of racially-motivated violence against African-Americans. To say there isn't a problem with racism in the United States would be ignorant beyond measure, and would be blatantly unfair to those people most affected by it.
Racism isn't new. From the very beginning of our country, people divided others into groups based on their skin color. Though slavery was ended by constitutional amendment in 1865, the scars remained. People continued to see blacks as lesser, inferior people. From the 1940s through the 1960s, the Civil Rights movement worked to end racial discrimination and gain equal rights and give all people the same opportunities. Progress was made, but new laws and regulations didn't change the ideas in the hearts of some that black people are somehow less civilized or less human or deserve less than white people.
So here we are. 2020. Hypothetically, we are the most civilized and the most accepting we've ever been. And yet, over the past few weeks, people from all walks of life in all 50 states have come together to protest police brutality and systemic racism with one simple mantra: Black Lives Matter. I won't get into the BLM movement, but I would encourage you to learn about its aims and its purpose. Simply put, Black Lives Matter means that we need to end this cycle of black people being targeted and killed for things that they should be allowed to do but can't because someone else "gets nervous" when they're around.
And so here I am. Like I said, I'm white, living in a place that's made up of a lot of white people. So I can't tell you about what it's like to be a black person. But I can tell you what it's like to be a white person.
I've been pulled over twice in my life. Both times, I was pulled over for speeding. Both times, my greatest fear was losing money. In neither instance did the thought come to my head that I could lose my life. It was unfathomable. I was speeding, which is punishable by a ticket, not by firing squad. And of course it would be ridiculous to suggest that every black person who gets pulled over is killed by the officer that pulls them over. But let's talk about the fact that black people are much more likely to be pulled over than white people (source) and that police are twice as likely to use force against people of color (source). Both times I got pulled over, I knew the reason why and didn't question it. I didn't fear for my life. That's what life is like as a white person.
Oh yeah, both of those traffic stops ended in me getting a warning. No ticket. A few deep breaths and I was on my way again.
Several years ago, some friends and I (all whites) were out late at night in our neighborhood. Like dumb teenagers, we dared one of our friends to try to climb one of the lampposts at one of the corners. He did, although when he got near the top the post started shaking and we thought the light at the top was going to fall down (but it didn't). We made our way to one of our houses and were sitting around the front porch when, a few minutes later, a police officer rolled up and stopped in front of the house. He calmly said that they had gotten a call that a group of young people were "damaging a stop sign" and that he wanted to know if we had any part in that or if we had seen anything. I think all of us believed that this call was about us, but since we technically didn't do anything to any stop sign, we said we didn't know, and the cop told us to have a good night and moved on.
That's life as a white person. You get the benefit of the doubt. You get let off. You get chances that others don't. And this isn't to mention the many other ways that white people benefit from privileges that people of color don't, like the way whites are portrayed in media and news, or the way that blacks are more likely to get longer prison sentences than white people for the same crimes. The list goes on and on and on.
And so the protests that have started since George Floyd's murder aren't about George Floyd. They're about trying to create real, lasting change in our laws and in our hearts. They're about trying to level the playing field and allow all people the same opportunities and privileges, regardless of race, origin, or background. They're about trying to tear down a centuries-old system of racism and oppression, of kneeling on the proverbial necks of millions of people because we've had enough.
It's not going to happen easily or immediately. Change doesn't come overnight. It comes as we band together and make an effort to fix something that's broken. Racism isn't just a problem in our police forces, it's a problem in our communities. Until every person of every skin tone can enjoy the same privileges AND every person treats every other person in the same respectful way, the problems will still persist. The thing about racism is that it's complicated. Racism can be manifested in something grand like violence, murder, denial of opportunities, privileges, or rights, or withholding a benefit that should be allotted to a person based on their race (or most often, simply the color of their skin). But I don’t think racism is just that. I think racism is the stereotypes, the jokes, the uncomfortableness people feel, or the disregard of people according to what they look like, talk like, or where they’re from.
Sometimes, racism is blatant: it’s kneeling on a person’s neck for nine minutes when that was clearly not necessary. It’s saying to someone “You can’t do ____ because you’re black.” It’s the idea that someone deserves or doesn’t deserve something because their skin is too light or too dark.
But sometimes, racism is making sure your doors are locked when a black person walks down the street. Sometimes, it’s a mother being more willing to let her kids hang out with their white friends than their black friends. Sometimes, it’s just simply choosing to associate with people who look similar to you because doing something else scares you.
Until we can stop all of this, the problems will still persist. Government intervention is helpful and necessary, but what is required of all of us is a deep introspection. We can't just ask, "Am I racist?" We have to ask, "Why did I make that assumption about that person?", "Why did I feel uncomfortable around that person?", and "Does the way I feel about that person or does the way I treat that person have anything to do with their skin color?" I think that we all need to ask ourselves what we can do better, and actively work to change our thoughts and our preconceived ideas about others.
I don't claim to be an expert on human relationships or social problems, but I know that we all need to improve in a few areas, namely: communication, respect, and love.
Sometimes communication is viewed as how we convey a message. But I think that's only the top half. The bottom half is the way we receive the messages of others, and how we act in response. If we were willing to talk to each other in a civil, kind way, and then really listen to what the other people have to say, I think we would avoid a lot of the problems we face, or we would at least face them together head-on. I think that all of us would benefit from taking a breath and working together to find common ground. It is natural to have differences of opinions, but those differences should not warrant a lack of respect for those around us.
And then we have to love people. I'm one of those people that thinks that you don't have to like everyone, but you do have to love them. What I mean is that every single person, without exception, deserves to be treated like a human being. Every person, regardless of what they've done or who they've been, deserves common decency because you are not the ultimate judge of their character. You can't know their story or their motivations. But you can control the way you treat them. This doesn't mean that you have to hang out with every person that is around you. Personalities clash and differences exist; that's fine. But no matter who a person is, we can still treat them like humans. Because I know that you would hope for that same impartial treatment from them.
A lot of people lately have been saying things along the lines of "I stand with the black community" or "I support people of color". The sentiment is good, but I feel like the messages that are being sent when people say things like this are missing the mark. To me, saying things like this perpetuates the idea that we are different, that it's "us" and "you guys," not "we." It sounds like people are leaving their white houses to wave at the black houses across the street and then they'll retreat into their separate residences. Racism, in large part, was shadowed under the idea that people could be separate but equal.
But if everyone's equal, why be separate at all?
Personally, I choose to take a slightly different stance. Instead of saying "I stand with the black community," I want to say "I stand in our community, and together, we are going to rise." This isn't to suggest that I'm trying to insert myself into the bits of black culture or history where I know that I don't belong. I also want to make it clear that I am not making myself a victim. I know that my experiences are different than those of others. But every time I hear the term "black community" I can't help but think: why aren't we in the same community?
I know that we all come from different backgrounds and I am not just another white person ignorantly saying "I don't see color" or "all lives matter." I don't think race should be ignored, because there are parts of every culture and ethnicity that can't be blended or adopted by others, and those differences should be celebrated and respected. What I'm trying to say is that when a person says "I stand with the black community," they imply that they are in a different community. The truth is, the black community is our community, because each person is our brother or our sister regardless of the pigment in their skin.
There's a quote that I really like that I first saw in a picture of the Oval Office during the Obama Administration. It says "The welfare of each of us is dependent fundamentally upon the welfare of all of us."
To me, this means that we as a society become better or worse not as individuals, but as a whole. We can't ignore racial inequality, or any inequality of any kind, and be content simply because it "doesn't affect us." We need to tackle these issues directly and with confidence, and remember that we are all in this together.
A few weeks ago, I watched a video by Trevor Noah talking about the events leading up to and after the death of George Floyd. In the video, Noah compares society to a contract. We, collectively, agree to certain rules and therefore expect certain privileges. We sign this contract, and live together under the agreement to the terms with the knowledge that if someone breaks their end of the deal, there will be consequences. If a person steals a car, violating the rule we have all agreed to that stealing is wrong, that person faces certain repercussions. Trevor Noah suggests in the video that the system itself is failing us, specifically people of color, and has been for a long time. So it's on us, all of us, to consider what the contract means. Maybe it's time to rewrite the terms so that all of us are covered and protected.
What is so insane to me is that this whole movement, the protests, and everything else that's been happening lately is considered by some to be "radical," "unnecessary," or "blown out of proportion." The thing is, this isn't some people getting angry because of one unfortunate event. It's the culmination of hundreds of years of oppression and bigotry, and it needs to happen. Because if we don't choose to change, we never will.
Guys, I said it at the beginning and I'm saying it again: I don't claim to be an expert on any of this. I know that I, as a white person, haven't lived a lot of the struggles that other people have lived, and I never will. But it's frustrating to me that anyone lives those struggles when they don't have to. I know that my voice might not be the one that needs to be heard right now, but I know that if I don't say anything, nothing is going to change.
So like I say, I am no expert on anything that has to do with racial injustice. But I am human, and I know how to love and I know how to feel. So I hope that we can start a conversation, a real, human conversation, without losing track of what matters to us. I hope that we can talk, and even though my voice might not be the perfect one, I hope that you’re willing to listen to me because I am willing to listen to you. Of course, we can have differing opinions and viewpoints—that’s what makes us human. But we can't differ on the fact that every human has rights, and we need to do better at respecting and upholding those rights. I hope that in each difference, we can find that our differences don’t make us better or worse than the other, but rather they serve as focal points to allow us to understand each other better. And I hope we can agree that people deserve to be loved, regardless of who they are or what they look like.
Guys, that's it for this post, but I really do want to start a discussion here. Please feel free to leave a comment here on the blog or reach out to me in some other form. If I am missing something or if you can see some way that I can change, please let me know.
Here, I'm going to link a few videos that you should watch from people who are probably better suited to talk about this sort of thing than I am. Watch, reflect, and grow.
