On: "Casual Racism"

 

On:  “Casual” Racism

Colleen Rogers

Confessional.  Putting these sentiments all out there.  Because, if we don’t honestly speak on it, we can’t make any genuine attempt to ever address racial issues productively.  Here’s what I have come to learn about racism based on my own personal observations and experiences …

1.    All of us are racist, but not everyone owns it.  Most of us deny our racist tendencies.  Yet, if you have ever laughed at a racist joke, rolled your eyes at the alternative behavior of another ethnicity, not called someone out for their use of a racial slur, minimized another race’s call for justice, or refuted someone's perception of their own ethnic story, you are indeed a racist.  If we were to be honest with ourselves and each other, we would all have to admit that we have committed at least one of the aforementioned offenses. 

2.    Racism is like a cancerous disease. It is occasionally in remission, but it can always be triggered and flare.  When a race perceives social injustice and responds with political activism and protest, the reactive cancer of racism comes out of remission, sometimes in the most vehement and violent ways.

3.    Really, there is no such thing as being a “casual” racist.  Saying so is like saying you’re “a little pregnant”.  If you were to go to a foreign country and break a “minor”code of conduct because you “didn’t know”it was objectionable, you still might be (at the very least) guilty of a faux pas in the eyes of the residents.  Such as it is with “casual” racism--you may believe you are making an attempt to show commonality, but in actuality, you are acting offensively.  It is up to you to attempt to learn the code and switch your behavior.

  

4.    Conversation about racism is the only taboo left in this country. We have been able to discuss issues like transgenderism, mental health, and  controversial parenting styles, but we cannot talk about racism judiciously without stirring fiery outrage.

I cannot speak on anyone’s experiences with their own racist conduct, so I will cite several instances in my own life where I have recognized this tumor in myself to serve as a starting point for discussion.  Feel free to comment below WITHOUT THE USE OF RACIAL SLURS (you know what they are).  Such epithets are counter-productive for any sincere attempts toward understanding each other's perspectives.

The instances I am relating will not show me in the best light, but they are honest and, I believe, express what some feel but do not share.  I am working here toward recognition and reflection…

Many years ago, my husband and I built our first home.  It was a typical suburban house—one bedroom on the first floor, two on the second, two baths, etc.  It was not palatial, but to us it was a great starter place after renting for too many years.  The black family across the street was amazing—the wife there was a nurse, and her husband taught high school, as did I.  Their home was definitely an upgrade from our place across the street.  Their house had additional rooms, a fancier facade, and a slightly larger lot.  Since we knew both of our families’ incomes were comparable, and that they had the additional expenses of raising two wonderful children, my husband and I tried to figure out how they managed to more successfully budget their assets.

At a block party, in casual conversation without inquiry on our part, the husband mentioned that he and his wife had gotten a significantly lower interest rate loan as part of a “boost” program that enabled minority families to finance their first homes.  My husband mentioned to our neighbor that it might not be such a good idea to share this information with the rest of the block party guests (all of whom were white).  When the party ended, and my husband and I returned home, we had a simmering, low-grade resentment over our neighbor’s financial “perk”.  We felt like a sibling who gets the smaller Christmas present even though he does the same number of chores around the house. 

There it was, through no fault of our neighbors, the tinge of animosity that we suppressed (but still felt).  We carried this the whole time we lived across the street from them.  We continued to extend all the requisite courtesies by picking up their mail when they went on vacation and the like, but we never recovered from feeling that some benefits, although intended to fast track another race toward upward mobility, would never be comprehensively available for us.  I do not believe that many others in our race relate or admit specific instances in which affirmative action policies have picked at and affected the relationships with previously included and accepted minority neighbors.

Many other personal instances of racism have, in my eyes, been an even more heinous snake for me.  As I stated, I was a teacher in a predominately black high school.  The students there were amazing—they were energetic, bright, and creative in every way possible.  I absolutely loved working with them, in spite of my failure sometimes to truly understand where they were coming from, or interpret how they would struggle to get to their personal and professional destinations. 

It was arduous for me to become their teacher.  My parents were blue collar people, my Dad a trucker, my Mom a waitress.  Three of us siblings were in college, at one point at the same time.  As I was the first to attend college, my family struggled to navigate the financial burdens of me getting a degree.  My Mom worked more hours, my Dad took on a weekend job as a bartender, and I waitressed while going to school as well.  My parents signed promissory notes and borrowed money.  It took me an extra year to finish getting my degree, not because of poor grades, but because I had to work more hours and save before I could return to graduate.  Finally, I got my degree and my certification to teach.  The rough road was treasured because it had so many landmines for me and my family to dodge.  As the first college graduate in my family, it was an overwhelming accomplishment for us all. 

At some point, toward the middle of my teaching career, one of my students proudly approached me to tell me that he had earned a full-ride minority scholarship to attend my own Alma Mater.  He stated that he wouldn’t have to work at all, just focus on his studies, and attend his classes.  I remember stepping outside my classroom, into the hallway, suddenly feeling tears streaming down my face.  His high school grades were decent, but I had been a State scholar. I was painfully reminded that I never, ever received a free ride.   

I prayed that at least, since he had been given an opportunity that I had not been privy to, he would hunker down and do his best.  He did not, and left college after his first year.  I was devastated by how cavalierly he received, and then tossed aside, a gift that would have made my family’s own struggle so much less overbearing had it only been offered.  I remember that the sense of inequity I felt at the time stung me to the core. I worked hard at flat lining my feelings with the goal of celebrating my students’ advantages toward their betterment, even if I recognized that their advantages appeared to divest from my own.  I find my feelings then to not show my character in the most favorable light, no matter how "justified" they were at the time.  Back then, I perceived these two instances to be a kind of reverse discrimination, a component of affirmative action. The term “white privilege” seemed non-applicable to me, since in my eyes it did not generate any special considerations for MY socially limited designation.  White privilege seemed to refer to a "white-someone" who was wealthier, with insider trades and the connections that my family lacked. "Privilege" meant having stacks, not being able to walk around a mall "untracked".  

My own personal issues with racism continued to be noted even into my last teaching position.  We had a student there that I’ll call Dontrell.  Dontrell was, as they used to say, a “spirited” young black man.  All of us white teachers had difficulty “reigning” him in.  We did not know how to “keep him seated”, get him to be “compliant” with the rules, etc.  Essentially, none of us white teachers “related to” or “understood” Dontrell whatsoever.  The last straw for us was when Dontrell took his school-issued laptop, laid it on the ground, stomped on it, and then demanded another computer as a “replacement”.  Dontrell had no learning disabilities, mental illnesses, or any other detectable cause for his conduct—it was just that we had no ability to connect with...all...that...behavior... 

One day, when all the students were in the cafeteria, his white teachers were sitting in the classroom at our own lunch table.  That day had been one of the most insufferable days of “Dontrelling” and one of the exasperated white teachers finally broke down and said, “I hate Ni**ers”.  With two administrators there, and three other teachers present, no one checked this teacher’s blatant racial slur.  No one.  Including myself.

I will tell you that I am not a white supremacist, white nationalist, or a member of any minority hate group, but I do believe that I have been complicit in allowing my own perceptions of racially-oriented benefits and  failure to halt the blatant racial slurring of others, to be inexcusable behaviors.  I have since tried hard to recognize these basest tumors of my own racist cancer. 

I am still struggling with what I have since been taught are characteristic expressions of “casual racism”, a kind of localized, insidious, nasty sub-texted racism generally exhibited (and denied) by "nice" white folk. 

I often now retreat from bringing up any uncomfortable issues on race.  I do not discuss black on black crime, use the phrase “not all white people are...” or even quote the mantra that “all lives matter”.  I'm still not always able to use thoughtful consideration when dodging all of the mumbled, taboo triggers of “casual” racism.

I know that some of my comments herein will be considered racist, even though I have stammer-attempted to explain my vantage point.  I do realize, though, that neither muttered sentiments nor high-pitched shouts are the volumes needed for solutions. 

Graphic from:    
https://www.sbs.com.au/nitv/article/2016/10/11/comment-can-racism-ever-be-casual