I'm Judging You (11 page)

Racism in all its many flavors is easier to recognize and call out when it's KKK-style Original Recipe. But when the form it takes isn't slurs and hate speech thrown in your face, people don't always see it, want to acknowledge it, or understand how much it affects the everyday lives of others. After all, the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and some white people believe that because their motives aren't malicious, they surely cannot be racist or harbor prejudices. I am here to let them know that I am judging them for thinking being “a little bit” of a bigot is a thing. That's like being “a little bit diabetic.”

We are all living in systems bigger than ourselves, but we have to be willing to acknowledge their existence. As engrained as racism and ethnic prejudice are in the United States (and many countries around the world), minorities still have to spend our time convincing white people that there is even a problem that needs to be fixed. Some people think that because they aren't overtly racist assholes (which, You're So Articulate Chad, is debatable) means that the larger society we live in isn't racist either, and therefore they do not recognize the privilege that allows them to even operate from that skewed belief. Being quiet about race or not wanting to acknowledge it is being a part of the problem, no matter how nonracist you personally are.

Some well-meaning folks think if we stop talking about racism, it'll magically disappear, like the smell of an errant fart. But like a fart, people might try to be polite and ignore it but everyone knows it's there. Avoidance has never been a great tactic in solving any problem. For most situations in life, not addressing what's going wrong only makes matters worse. It's like someone breaks your arm, and the person who slammed the baseball bat into it is saying, “The only reason it won't heal is because you keep complaining that it hurts.” How about you get me a cast so the bone can set straight again? America does not want to put the effort into providing this cast. This is why we must talk about race, and we must do it openly.

As we rage about the system that privileges white people over people of color, that has been allowed, encouraged, and state sanctioned, we get pushback saying that not all white people are racist. Listen. We didn't say ALL white people are racist, but racism is real, bigots are plenty, and we're not just making this up to make white folks feel bad. We're saying that white people benefit from an automatic position of privilege because of their skin color in a larger racist society. We didn't call you, Individual White Person, racist, unless you feel like us pointing out the FACT of white privilege makes you a bigot. In that case, by all means, holler like hit dogs do. Racism is not just perpetuated by the people in white hoods. It's also the well-meaning “I have Black friends” people who help it remain upright and unmovable. They refuse to see the part they play in the system because they're too busy making sure everyone knows how NOT racist they are.

Listening to Black music and loving Beyoncé does not give you a free hall pass out of the system of structural racism. Just because I enjoy a salad from time to time doesn't mean I'm a vegetarian. Being able to live without having to be defined by your skin color is the hallmark of privilege. So let's talk about privilege. This word feels accusatory to many, and they feel assaulted (or insulted) by the idea of possessing it. In reality, it's not about
you
; it's about your actual factual societally supported white privilege.

Some of my favorite memories from college are from my two and a half years as a counseling center paraprofessional. We were trained peer counselors, and part of our training curriculum was to spend our first semester as CCPs learning about ourselves, our place in the world, and how it relates to others around us. This is when I was introduced to the privilege exercise, which really changed the way I view the space I take up in this world.

Our group of twenty was incredibly diverse (in color, religious beliefs, class, sexual orientation, gender identity, etc.). To begin the exercise, we all stood in a straight horizontal line across the room. When our facilitator made a certain statement, folks either took a step back, took a step forward, or stayed in place. Example: “Take a step forward if you've never had to worry about where your next meal would come from.” “Take a step back if you've ever felt judged because of the color of your skin.” “Take a step back if your name has ever been pronounced incorrectly.” “Take a step forward if you can legally get married to the person you love.” At the end of the exercise, after about thirty statements, we were told to pause, look around, and see where we were. By then, everyone was standing in different places, and we had to observe whether there was a pattern in who was in front of or behind us. You learn a lot about the people in that room with you, and you might even find someone you'd never expect standing behind you!

Unsurprisingly, the people in the very front were the straight white men in the class. I was in the middle, because I'm heterosexual, Christian, middle-class, and cisgender. The people behind me were those who identified as members of three or four marginalized groups (gay, poor, Muslim, etc.). That exercise changed my world, because it was an important lesson on how we don't all have the same opportunities, and even though we might all technically start in the same place (on paper), we quickly find ourselves behind or ahead in the world.

Our privileges are the things not within our own control that push us forward and move us ahead from that starting line. Acknowledging them does not mean you are admitting to doing something to purposefully contribute to someone else's oppression or marginalization. Nay, friends. It means you recognize that some part of your identity puts you in a better position than others. It means something about you assists your progress in the race of life. It also means that whatever majority group you belong to has likely contributed to the oppression of another. Knowing our privilege does not make us villains, but it should make us more conscious about the parts we play in systems that are greater than us. It should make us be more thoughtful; it should humble us. We need to admit that some of us had a head start and aren't just flourishing on our strength alone.

Again, YOU might not personally be responsible for the oppression of others, but you're amongst a group that is benefitting from said oppression. On the list of privileges, whiteness is arguably the biggest one. This is not an accusation but a fact that people need to recognize and acknowledge. If you are white in the United States, you carry a giant stamp of approval that has already made your life easier compared to others'. White people are in positions of power in every societal structure, and get to see themselves reflected everywhere. White privilege is not having to worry about speaking for your entire ethnicity because your behavior is perceived as yours alone, not representative of everyone who looks like you. It's characters in cartoons and video games that look like your kid, or at least only a few shades away from them. Tights and undergarments that are labeled as “nude” consider your skin the default, so it matches you, and you only, white people. Privilege is never even having to notice when you are reflected in movies or in boardrooms, because you are always reflected.

The most glaring aspect of white privilege is that when someone is described neutrally—without indicating color or ethnicity—more often than not, people will assume that the person is white. THAT assumption indicates an uncomfortable truth: in our society, whiteness determines humanity.

Unfortunately, people are so ill equipped to deal with race that some are not only unwilling to see their privilege, they're unwilling to even admit that we're all different colors. They're so committed to avoidance that these people say they don't even see color at all. I call shenanigans. Colorblindness isn't a thing. Well, medically it is. Some people have trouble distinguishing between certain colors. Even scientifically, though, colorblindness does not mean you cannot tell black from white. Random fact for you, if you ever end up on
Jeopardy
and your Daily Double depends on it: the reason Facebook's logo is blue is because Mark Zuckerberg is red-green colorblind, and shades of blue are the richest ones he can see. THE MORE YOU KNOW *shooting star*. But I bet even Zuck can tell the difference between my skin and his.

So for people to sit on some delusional “more evolved” throne and proclaim themselves colorblind, and therefore unable to be prejudiced or racist, is absurd at best, cowardice at medium (yes, medium), and dangerous at worst. “I don't see race or color. I just see people.” You are lying like a good Persian rug handmade by a widow. That statement is an extra helping of wack sauce on disingenuous spaghetti. No one is lacking color. Are we water? Did Jesus walk on us or try to turn us into wine to keep the party going? No, he did not. The point of trying to be “colorblind” is not so we can deny what is obviously there; it's supposed to be so we don't treat people as less-than because of their color. But classifications and categories aren't bad in and of themselves. What's bad are the stereotypes and degradation that come with some of the categories we're a part of. The acknowledgement of the boxes that we fit in isn't wrong, and neither is the recognition of our differences.

Furthermore, eschewing our cultural differences doesn't make America or anyplace a salad bowl. It erases our history and the very relevant events of the past that have led to our present situations. It dishonors our ancestors and the work they've done. And it lets people off the hook for centuries of race-based denigration and injustice. So saying you don't see race is saying you have nothing to fix. “Colorblindness” and cultural erasure help perpetuate this crappy system of oppression, because forced politeness and fear of the “race card” trump actual work and progress. In the words of my beloved cousin (in my heart) Kerry Washington, “I'm not interested in living in a world where my race is not a part of who I am. I am interested in living in a world where our races, no matter what they are, don't define our trajectory in life.” We are not supposed to be homogenous, but we should all be able to exist harmoniously, side by side, even with our differences. I want people to see my color and my culture written all over me, because I am proud of the skin I'm in. It is an important part of my identity. What I don't want them to do is mistreat me because of it.

The world itself is not blind to race, so individual claims to be such are nonsense. It's like saying you see a red traffic light as blue. AND? Everyone else sees it as red, so your supposed blue light makes no damb difference. You and everyone around you still operate like it's red, so what does your perception mean, anyway? Yes, I know race is a construct. So is Santa Claus, and yet we sit down on December 25th every year and exchange gifts that we say he brought us. Socially constructed things become real when they're embedded in the culture. Language and money are constructs, too, and yet they are also real things that have real impact in our lives. We need to deal with the constructs, not swim in cultural denial. We cannot avoid or deny our issues away and think we can actually move forward. You cannot be a part of a solution when you aren't even willing to admit there is a problem.

“Colorblindness” is an attempt to play the Get Out of Trying to Fix This Free card, the ultimate cheat code in the game of white privilege. Being able to move and navigate in the world unaware of how race impacts people of color must give life a rosy tint that makes it easier to deal with. However, it makes it harder for those of us who do not have that setting. It's the well-meaning, yet offensive aunty of the “All Lives Matter” crew, the folks who have to respond with that anytime we say “Black Lives Matter.” We know all lives
should
matter, but ALL lives cannot matter until Black lives matter, too.

I'm not sure who I side-eye more, though: Team I Don't See Color or Team Let Me Honor You by Painting My Face Black for Halloween. One group thinks they're laudable for not acknowledging racial differences, and the other thinks being represented by face paint should make us feel appreciated. For the last time, white folks: Black face, red face, brown face, or yellow face
is not okay
. If there is anything that gets my blood pressure sky-high in two seconds flat, it is blackface-wearing white folks who think they're somehow paying homage to us even as they look more like creatures out of horror movies. WHITE PEOPLE, THIS IS NOT OKAY. I REPEAT: NOT OKAY!

It's not okay for the same reason that it's not okay that there's still a sports team called “Redskins.” If you're reading this after 2016, and you're like “No, there isn't,” then it's because we all finally got our lives together and stopped being jerkwads and changed that offensive name. You might be living in a better world, or at least one that isn't so bold in its awfulness. Congrats. But right now, the Washington Redskins are a franchise in the National Football League, despite Native Americans and allies speaking up repeatedly to say that the name is derogatory. What I don't understand is how a group of people can say, “Hey, you're offending us. Stop that!” and people can go “But it's our team name!” or “We're just having fun! Relax!” That's like if you're stepping on my toes, and I say, “Ouch
—
get off!” and you say, “But I've been standing on your feet for like forty minutes. I like it. I'll stay.” How dare you?!

My alma mater is the University of Illinois, and up until my junior year in undergrad, Chief Illiniwek was our mascot. He was always portrayed by a white student wearing a feathered headdress who'd hop around during halftime of sports games yelling, “OSKEE WOW WOW!” When they got rid of him, people were in tears, saying, “He's a tradition!” Grown-ass people were on TV crying because our mascot, the made-up Indian chief, was being retired. Alums threatened to stop donating to the university because the RACIST. MASCOT. WAS. BEING. RETIRED! I was floored.