We have a racism
problem.
I know it’s not
popular to say so right now, but as a middle class White guy, I’m
calling us on it.
I grew up in a rural
area near what is, for Kansas, a large city. My father was an
executive, my neighbors and extended family farmers. I went to school
with blue collar people and white collar people, the sons and
daughters of doctors and lawyers, factory workers and accountants.
One thing that was
common, though not universal, in the White community, regardless of
social class or education, was racism.
Because I am a White
male, other Whites found it was OK to be racist around me, to share
racist “jokes,” racist stereotypes, and sometimes simple racist
invective, assuming I would agree.
To my shame, I did
not, do not, often enough disagree.
In the aftermath of
an election victory by a person who refused to distance himself from
openly racist people, White establishment types on both the Right and
the Left have gone out of their way to find other explanations for
why so many supported him. The idea that it could be racism would put
pundits and reporters in the difficult position of alienating most of
their audience, so they repeat the ideas that “this was a change
election,” and that Trump’s success was primarily a case of
people “voting their pocketbooks.”
Maybe so. But if
you’re really actively combating your own inner racism, Donald
Trump would turn your stomach. Racism may not be the main reason
people voted for him, but it sure didn’t dissuade too many people.
I think racism in
White America comes in three not always easily distinguished classes.
The first are the
hardcore racists. The active members of this group will be the ones
who organize and turn violent. These are the Klan people, though most
of them will never join the Klan. They’ll move out of a
neighborhood that gets too “ethnic.” They’ll redline a whole
community and disown a kid who marries across racial lines.
Statistics on White
flight would indicate that hardcore racism is far more common than
people admit.
Granted, most White
Americans who harbor racist feelings and thoughts don’t think of
themselves as racists. They’re of the “some of my best friends
are Black” persuasion, and they probably don’t actively hate. But
they still will tell you about the “bad” part of town. They
bought into the “superpredator” rhetoric of the ‘90s.
This second category
of White racists won’t redline a community, but they also won’t
stop the bank executive who does. These people will read Charles
Murray and note that “he makes some good points.”
They pride
themselves on the common decency to say “Well, I’m no racist,
but” before saying something racist.
On my more generous
days, I’d say that this is the most common form of White racism.
After November 8, 2016, I’m not so sure.
The third category
is the one I’ll put myself in. Generally educated in identifying
racism, or maybe even specifically educated in Critical Race Theory,
we still haven’t fully confronted the structural racism in the
institutions and organizations—mainly academic and non-profit—we
pervade.
We’re the sort of
folks who can even identify the definition of structural racism on a
multiple choice test.
We also have a
terrible track record of tokenism, of presiding over the English
department with the one Black guy in it, of setting up the Diversity
Office that employs half the Black folks on campus and has no real
power.
We talk a good game.
Sometimes we even publish anti-racist stuff. But our homes, our
churches, our inner circles, are all lily-hued oases, free from the
anxiety and discomfort diversity might make us feel.
Identity, to some
degree, is at issue in all these categories—the ways we identify
self from other. It’s stronger in those who frequently feel that
identity is at risk. But there’s also a degree of lay tradition: we
feel this way because that’s how we were taught to feel by our
parents and grandparents, the important people in our lives.
We can move through
these categories due to experiences, education, social situation.
Even hardcore racists can change.
So there’s hope.
But the rest of us,
those of us in the second and third categories listed here, need to
stop hiding behind barriers of gentility, academic theory, and social
respectability. We need to call it and confront it when we see
racism, and when we perpetrate it.
It won’t be
comfortable. But real change seldom is.
