
Fighting Racism From Within
Probably the only good to come out of Donald Trump’s presidency is the realization that our society has a long way to go to get to where we (at least some of us) thought we already were. A huge and very important conversation has been reignited, when it never should have been left in the ashes.
The emboldening of white supremacists in this fractious climate does not surprise me but their numbers alarms me. It’s evident that fringe groups are aligning themselves with the alt -right and have varying platforms, but the underlying unifying thread is hate. How do people get there?
Nelson Mandela‘s powerful quote from his autobiography “Long Walk to Freedom” states;
“No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin or his background or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.”
I believe in the idealism of this sentiment whole- heartedly, but is it really possible?
Take for example my own experience of growing up on the North West Coast of British Columbia. In my small town of Prince Rupert there was and is a significant First Nations population. There are several Reservations nearby and kids who lived there were ferried and then bussed to school. They spoke a little differently and mostly kept to themselves. Once in awhile one of the Native kids would find their way into the “general population”, meaning they’d hang out with us white kids. I knew that they were different from me, and I comprehended that I was in a better situation than they were, but I never would have characterized myself as prejudiced.
At the age of 13, I was sexually harassed and assaulted by two and sometimes three Native boys at my school. They would wait for me at recess and lunch and corner me, hold me down and grope my chest and between my legs while I cried and they laughed. I quickly learned not to trust Native boys (It’s interesting to note that just as I write this I remember a similar situation a few years earlier, but it was a Caucasian boy who had forcibly groped me, and yet while I became afraid of him specifically, I don’t think I attached that suspicion to all white males).
Two years later I was beaten up by a Native girl for no other reason than the fact that I was white and in the wrong place at the wrong time. People stood around and watched as she held me by my hair and accused me of being racist. We had never seen each other before, although I’d heard of her. She was nicknamed Silver Streak because of the patch of silver than ran through her long black hair, and she had a reputation of being a fighter and a drinker.
On that particular day I had been sitting on a storefront stoop with several other friends when she drunkenly approached us from a pinball arcade across the street. One by one she smacked my friends and they jumped up and left me by myself. She dragged me to my feet and started slapping me and asking if I was a racist. When I cried out that I wasn’t, she still slapped me. Onlookers watched and heckled while I was crying and asking for help. Finally her probation officer intervened and I ran home to the jeers of the bastards who stood by and watched. They were mostly white.
I had a few First Nations friends and had since then dated a few. A couple of my brother’s best friends who also happened to be First Nations became like brothers to me and would spend important holidays like Christmas with our family. I’ve had far more positive experiences with Natives than negative, but the few negative ones planted in me some degree of prejudice. But being a little bit racist is like being a little bit pregnant. It doesn’t work that way.
In the 1980’s as a young adult living in Vancouver I’d find myself feeling nervous when walking the downtown streets and seeing Natives drinking in doorways or on street corners frightened me in a way I’m ashamed of.
I’d keep my eyes down and walk a little more quickly, especially if they appeared intoxicated or tried to speak to me. While I would react in the same manner when I encountered a white person under the same circumstances, I didn’t experience the same level of fear.
Fast forward to the 1990’s when my husband and I flew to San Francisco and went to take the Bart downtown. While waiting on the platform a young Black man wearing a hoodie, ball cap and carrying a backpack came walking towards us. I became really nervous. I thought we were going to get mugged. My husband thought I was being ridiculous (I was) but I was unaccountably afraid.
There were no Black people in Prince Rupert when I grew up in the 70’s. Even when I moved to Vancouver at the age of 19, there still weren’t many Blacks around. Not only did I not have any negative experiences with Black people, but also the one experience I DID have was a positive one. I dated a Black comedian for a few months, and when it ended, we parted as friends. So, where had these feelings come from?
As I attempt to understand when and where this realization of my own racism originated I find myself delving deeper into the current climate of our culture and am beginning to realize how apathy and denial have contributed and even fuelled the almost systemic hate we white folk are finally waking up to.
These days, while following the divisive storyline that has become American Politics, I find myself being drawn into the conversation and idea of being “woke”. I had assumed I was. But the more I read about it, the less I know I am. I’ve started listening to sociopolitical podcasts. I’m following the writings of journalists and other people in the media. I’m newly active on Twitter, which is a surprisingly useful resource of different ideas and organizations. I’m educating myself about things like Voter Suppression and Sanctuary Cities. And I am sickened by what recently took place in Charlottesville, Virginia.
Marginalized people across the board have been just that — marginalized. There are no bones about it. White Privilege is a fairly new (to me) term or ideology that first started to sink in for me while watching CNN’s United Shades of America. The host, W. Kamau Bell was interviewing Richard Spencer who is a leading figure in the white supremacy movement and credited with coining the term alt-right.
While I watched incredulously at the brazen bigotry that spewed from Spencer’s mouth, I marveled at Mr. Bell’s (who is Black) composure and lack of visible angst. But when the words “I just want to bathe in white privilege” came from that smug face and the camera did a take away to Bell’s expression, I felt gutted inside. And I felt guilt. For being white and un-woke.
What is this thing called white privilege? It’s not being afraid for your life when you are pulled over by the police. It’s not feeling like your voice isn’t important or even heard. It’s not being passed up for the good paying jobs because you “don’t belong here”. It’s not living with the fact that your ancestors were stolen from their homelands and forced into slavery. It’s not worrying that you might make someone nervous when you walk down the street. Or take the Bart. It is never questioning how you will be treated based on your skin color, and it is so imbedded in our culture I believe many of us aren’t even aware that we have it. We take it for granted.
I think it’s important not to use phrases such as “All Lives Matter”. Saying that all lives matter detracts from the fact that Blacks and other People of Color have it way worse off than whites. The “Black Lives Matter” movement is not trying to take anything from whites or say that Blacks are more important than anyone else. It is trying to make us understand that they are constantly treated badly and discriminated against and that in fact their lives DO MATTER! Declaring that Black Lives Matter is not saying ONLY Black Lives Matter, it is saying that they matter every bit as much as white lives.
Giving people and believing in their due rights doesn’t equate to stripping them of oneself. That is a fear-based emotion that needs to be erased in order for healing and equality to begin. It’s up to all of us to look into our hearts and at our actions and biases and take responsibility for the hurt and damage we have done to our fellow human beings, and therefore society as a whole.
I’m starting with me.