White Like Me: Reflections on Race From a Privileged Son (45 page)
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Authors: Tim Wise
Tags: #History, #Politics, #Sociology, #Memoir, #Race
BOOK: White Like Me: Reflections on Race From a Privileged Son
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Others sent around e-mails with pithy questions like, “If Obama wins, will they still call it the White House?” or suggesting that Obama wanted to tax aspirin because “it’s white and it works.” White racial anxiety, in other words, was on full display for the better part of the presidential campaign season.
At no point did this become more apparent than after the media, led by FOX News, began running with a story concerning certain comments made by Senator Obama’s former pastor, the Rev. Jeremiah Wright, of Trinity United Church of Christ on Chicago’s south side. Wright had been the minister who had brought Obama to Christianity and the pastor who had married he and Michelle, but in the media narrative that began to spin out of control in March 2008, he was only relevant as a symbolic weapon with which to beat up on Obama. He was a radical, an anti-white bigot, an America-hater. And upon what evidence were such arguments made? In part it was because he had discussed the history of U.S. foreign policy, including the indisputable bombing of innocent civilians in Hiroshima and Nagasaki at the end of World War Two, and the history of racism in the country. In part it was because he had dared suggest that people of color owed no automatic allegiance to a nation that had neglected them for so long. But mostly, it was because he had said that the events of 9/11 had a predicate: they were not simply the acts of crazy people who hated our freedoms (the dominant and inherently narcissistic explanation offered by most whites, and certainly the Bush Administration), but rather, the acts of people who believed, rightly or wrongly, that such attacks would serve as payback for the history of U.S. actions in the Middle East and Arab world. The symbolism of “chickens coming home to roost,” which Wright had deployed shortly after the attacks (and which now was being used as a political weapon against candidate Obama), was not meant to justify the horror of that day, but merely to place it in historical context. Whiteness, of course, requires a lack of context; it requires that historical memory play no role in understanding anything. To whiteness, the past is the past and the present is the present, and never the two shall meet: historical amnesia is a virtue, even a pseudo-religious sacrament.
I was traveling during the initial dust-up over the Wright videos that had begun to circulate, often edited and cropped to suggest that far more incendiary things were being said than actually had been at the time of the original sermons. I knew of Trinity, and had communicated with Rev. Wright’s daughter, Jeri, a few years before, when she had asked if they could reprint some of my articles within their church newsletter. I had said yes, of course, and felt perfectly comfortable in doing so. The church was a progressive, community-centric place, from which amazing local programs were being directed around AIDS awareness, economic injustice, and any number of other issues. Trinity was solidly within the mainstream of the United Church of Christ, and Rev. Wright had developed an intense following among not only his black parishioners, but his white ones as well, of whom there were far more than commonly believed.
What seemed to bother white America was that Rev. Wright was unapologetically black, and he endorsed what he referred to as a black value system, extending back to Africa, in which community well-being took precedence over individualism and the me-firstism that has long characterized much of white evangelical Christianity. His was the opposite of the prosperity gospel so popular around that time (including among many black preachers), in which ministers insisted Jesus wanted nothing so much as for people to drive a Bentley and wear a Rolex, or at least for their pastors to do so; this, despite nothing in Scripture to suggest such a thing, and much to indicate the opposite.
Whites never minded
that
—no beef with Creflo Dollar, he being perhaps the most venal and cynical of the Christian money-hustlers in the black community—but to tell the truth about America was a no-no. Wright called bullshit on that, and
that
was the problem. He said that the purpose of Christians was to stand in solidarity with the poor, the oppressed, the prisoner, the ill, the despised (which had been, of course, exactly what Jesus had said, no matter the words put in his mouth later by everyone from the Apostle Paul to Billy Graham), and this, as much as anything, is what much of white America couldn’t stand. How dare this black man tell us what it means to follow Jesus! Seeing as how whites had long had the luxury of believing Jesus
was
white, the reaction should not have been particularly surprising, I suppose.
that
—no beef with Creflo Dollar, he being perhaps the most venal and cynical of the Christian money-hustlers in the black community—but to tell the truth about America was a no-no. Wright called bullshit on that, and
that
was the problem. He said that the purpose of Christians was to stand in solidarity with the poor, the oppressed, the prisoner, the ill, the despised (which had been, of course, exactly what Jesus had said, no matter the words put in his mouth later by everyone from the Apostle Paul to Billy Graham), and this, as much as anything, is what much of white America couldn’t stand. How dare this black man tell us what it means to follow Jesus! Seeing as how whites had long had the luxury of believing Jesus
was
white, the reaction should not have been particularly surprising, I suppose.
Concerned about the lack of historicism that animated so much white reaction, I penned a piece defending not just Rev. Wright, but the larger historical point he had been trying to make: namely, that the United States was not all goodness and light. Yes, we had killed many innocent civilians over the years as a result of our militarism and imperialism; yes, we were implicated in global suffering. Although I didn’t agree with everything Wright said or implied (like the part in which he speculated the government may have created HIV/AIDS deliberately so as to destroy certain “undesirable” populations), I also knew the historical basis for the claim, and was well aware that the U.S. government had indeed released diseases deliberately in poor communities of color before—as documented in Harriet Washington’s award-winning book,
Medical Apartheid
, released around that time. So although I didn’t think that had happened this time out, it wasn’t insane to engage the question, as Wright had, given the history.
Medical Apartheid
, released around that time. So although I didn’t think that had happened this time out, it wasn’t insane to engage the question, as Wright had, given the history.
When my essay ran, Rev. Wright was with his family on a long-scheduled cruise to celebrate his pending retirement from Trinity after many years of service. They had been on the cruise when the controversy blew up surrounding his comments from seven years earlier, about which no one had cared until they could be used against Barack Obama. After the family vacation ended, I heard from Jeri Wright that it had been a nightmare: others on the ship who were watching the news were shooting her father dirty looks, taking pictures of him, and making him feel like a pariah based on the misinformation they were getting from media. What should have been a celebratory moment, to relish thirty-six years of diligent service on behalf of the people in his community, became an exercise in self-defense, in which the family had to protect their father from the glares and comments of people who knew nothing about the man they were being encouraged to hate, but knew that they hated him nonetheless.
Jeri noted that her father had gotten to see my essay while on the cruise and was eternally grateful; it had been one of the only bright spots, she said, in a larger miasma of hostility. I told her it was the least I could do, and that I was equally grateful to her dad and the entire Trinity family for their work. Allyship required that I come to Rev. Wright’s aid in that moment, and I was only too glad to do so.
Sadly, the political reality in America is such that Barack Obama felt he had little choice but to sacrifice his former pastor on the altar of electoral expedience. And so, one week after proclaiming that he would never throw Rev. Wright under the bus, and could no more disavow Wright than his own mother or grandparents, he did just that: condemning Wright in particularly vicious terms, so as to curry favor with white voters who all but demanded the obeisance as a condition of their vote. Putting aside whether Obama had acted ethically in doing so, the political meaning of the act was clear: white power was still in full effect. As with Alex Scott in Bermuda, Barack Obama had to pander to the feelings of white people in order to secure his political future. When he won in November, his victory (given the racially neutered dance he was forced to perform in order to achieve it) confirmed white privilege, rather than argued for its eradication.
PARENTHOOD
THE WEEK BEFORE
the presidential election, the school that both of our girls now attend held a mock vote for the students in which they got to cast their ballots for the candidate of their choice. Barack Obama won handily, and can rest assured that he received the vote of Ashton Wise (and would have secured Rachel’s, but she was still in pre-school at the time). We hadn’t tried to push either of the girls to support one candidate over the other, but it seemed almost intuitive on their parts that they would support Obama. They appeared to instinctively sense something terribly wrong with Sarah Palin, and something angry and menacing about John McCain. At one point, Rachel asked me what Sarah Palin’s “problem” was, entirely unbidden I should add, to which I responded, somewhat tongue-in-cheek, “she doesn’t care if the polar bears die and she likes to shoot moose.” Both Ashton and Rachel were horrified. When my father-in-law went to dinner with them one night, wearing a button with pictures of McCain and Palin on it, Rachel took one look at the button and said, “There’s that crazy lady who hates polar bears!” Some things, as you see, get lost in translation.
the presidential election, the school that both of our girls now attend held a mock vote for the students in which they got to cast their ballots for the candidate of their choice. Barack Obama won handily, and can rest assured that he received the vote of Ashton Wise (and would have secured Rachel’s, but she was still in pre-school at the time). We hadn’t tried to push either of the girls to support one candidate over the other, but it seemed almost intuitive on their parts that they would support Obama. They appeared to instinctively sense something terribly wrong with Sarah Palin, and something angry and menacing about John McCain. At one point, Rachel asked me what Sarah Palin’s “problem” was, entirely unbidden I should add, to which I responded, somewhat tongue-in-cheek, “she doesn’t care if the polar bears die and she likes to shoot moose.” Both Ashton and Rachel were horrified. When my father-in-law went to dinner with them one night, wearing a button with pictures of McCain and Palin on it, Rachel took one look at the button and said, “There’s that crazy lady who hates polar bears!” Some things, as you see, get lost in translation.
I tell this story mostly because it symbolizes, for me at least, how children pick things up; how they are, indeed,
always
picking things up, for good or bad, from their parents, the media, peers, and any number of other sources. By our statements, our actions, or alternately by our silence and
inactions
, we teach lessons constantly, and children are incredibly adept at learning them, even when we think they aren’t paying attention at all. This is why, when it comes to race, parents have to be very deliberate and mindful of the lessons we’re imparting to our kids.
always
picking things up, for good or bad, from their parents, the media, peers, and any number of other sources. By our statements, our actions, or alternately by our silence and
inactions
, we teach lessons constantly, and children are incredibly adept at learning them, even when we think they aren’t paying attention at all. This is why, when it comes to race, parents have to be very deliberate and mindful of the lessons we’re imparting to our kids.
Sadly, too often parents (and especially white parents) begin by sending the wrong messages to children when it comes to race. Over the years, I’ve asked several hundred people in workshops, “When was the first time you really noticed someone of a different race or color than yourself, and what happened?” And by far, the most common reply has had something to do with having seen a person of color in a supermarket or mall, while shopping with one’s parents. Time after time, whites will describe a similar scene: they noticed the person who looked different, they tugged on their mom or dad’s clothes to get their attention, they referenced the person they’d seen while pointing at them, and then they were met by a forceful and immediate,
“Shhhh!”
from the parent.
“Shhhh!”
from the parent.
To the parent, the shush means one thing, but to the child it means quite another. To the adult, the shush is likely intended as a short, sharp way to convey the notion that pointing is rude. But to the child, especially if very young, the shush suggests that something is wrong, specifically with the person being referenced. It says,
don’t notice that person
, or even,
that person is bad, or dangerous,
and one should be quiet around them so as not to attract their attention—the kind of thing you might be told were you to happen upon a dangerous wild animal while on a camping trip. When white parents shush their children, when those children have merely pointed out something different for which they have no words or explanation, they send a message of negativity with regard to the difference being noticed.
don’t notice that person
, or even,
that person is bad, or dangerous,
and one should be quiet around them so as not to attract their attention—the kind of thing you might be told were you to happen upon a dangerous wild animal while on a camping trip. When white parents shush their children, when those children have merely pointed out something different for which they have no words or explanation, they send a message of negativity with regard to the difference being noticed.
The other problem with the way parents, and especially white ones, deal with race, is that they
don’t
deal with it at all when it comes to their children. They largely ignore it. Over the years, hundreds of white parents have proudly proclaimed to me that they rarely ever discuss racism with their children. “I want my kids to be able to hold on to their innocence,” some say. Others insist that “children don’t see color until we
make
them see it,” as justification for their silence about race. “We’re raising our kids to be colorblind,” still others maintain, as if such a parenting plan were the ultimate antiracist technique, and as if avoiding the topic of racism could instill such colorblindness in the first place.
don’t
deal with it at all when it comes to their children. They largely ignore it. Over the years, hundreds of white parents have proudly proclaimed to me that they rarely ever discuss racism with their children. “I want my kids to be able to hold on to their innocence,” some say. Others insist that “children don’t see color until we
make
them see it,” as justification for their silence about race. “We’re raising our kids to be colorblind,” still others maintain, as if such a parenting plan were the ultimate antiracist technique, and as if avoiding the topic of racism could instill such colorblindness in the first place.
But colorblindness doesn’t solve the problem of racism. First, it doesn’t work. Kids see color, and research suggests they begin to draw conclusions about color-based differences early on. As early as preschool, children have begun to pick up cues about race and gender from popular culture, from parents and from peers, such that they begin to form hierarchies on the basis of those identities. Kids observe the world around them and draw conclusions about that world, with or without our guidance. When it comes to race, unguided conclusions can prove dangerous.
Children can discern, for instance, that there are vast gaps in resources between the parts of town lived in mostly by whites and the parts of town in which mostly folks of color reside. They can see people of color disproportionately represented on the news in stories about crime or poverty. They can see mostly whites in leadership roles, the president notwithstanding. Having observed disparities, children, like anyone else, will seek to make sense of them, subconsciously if not consciously; and if they’re being told—as most everyone is in the United States—that “anyone can make it if they try hard enough,” but then they see that some have decidedly
not
made it to the extent others have, why should it surprise us that some (perhaps many) would conclude that there was something wrong with those at the bottom: that they were, in fact, inferior? And if the disparities have a distinct racial cast to them, how surprising can it be that those conclusions would be linked to notions of racial
group
inferiority?
not
made it to the extent others have, why should it surprise us that some (perhaps many) would conclude that there was something wrong with those at the bottom: that they were, in fact, inferior? And if the disparities have a distinct racial cast to them, how surprising can it be that those conclusions would be linked to notions of racial
group
inferiority?
So unless parents are discussing inequity with children, and placing it in its proper sociological and historical context—in other words, unless they are talking about discrimination and racism, past and present—those children will likely develop an internal narrative to explain the inequities they can see, which will lean heavily towards a prejudicial, even racist conclusion.
This is why the old saying that “you have to be taught how to hate,” has always seemed overly simplistic to me. Yes, if you’re deliberately taught to be a racist it certainly makes it more likely that you’ll turn out to be one. But a child can be taught bias—perhaps not hatred, but certainly a form of racism—indirectly too, by combining their recognition of social inequities with the standard message of their society that where we end up on the ladder of life is all about our own effort. As such, only color-consciousness (and especially a consciousness of the way color continues to divide our society) can really prepare children to confront the world around them honestly and effectively.
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