Hey Raven,
It's been a rough day for you (a rough week) so I'm going to take posting tonight. But not just because you need the break. I need the space. I need the space to write what I've been feeling lately and give voice to some of the rage that has been burning for a long time. Sometimes quietly, unnoticed, while other stresses took priority. Sometimes like a wildfire out of control.
This post is going to be about race in the United States, but specifically about black Americans and the way our system treats them. And the way that affected how others treat them. I'm going to start with some disclaimers because this post is going to be very much about perspective. And it's important to know where mine is coming from.
Here goes: I am a white woman. I grew up in a wealthy suburb (though in the "poor" section of that suburb) going to one of the best high schools in the country. I was in the racial majority in school from kindergarten to graduation. My town was mostly white. I went to a college that was predominantly white. I live in a city that is mostly white, where blacks are not treated with equal dignity. And I live in a state that is among the worst in the country for blacks. And I don't mean top 10. I'm talking top 5. I don't say this because I am either proud or ashamed of myself - I say it because this is the world I have lived in and it is this life and these experiences that inform my opinions.
I could give you facts and research here about white privilege, the achievement gap, incarceration rates, and other symptoms of the prolonged institutionalized racism in this country, but I'm not going to do that. I'm not going to do it for two reasons. First, because a good friend of mine has done a better job explaining it than I ever could*. And second, because I can't today. I can't spit out facts and numbers like that's all this issue is and all it can be boiled down to. I know numbers are important and some people will never believe anecdotal or common sense arguments, but emotions aren't logical. They don't feel quelled by a satisfying study or neat columns of statistics. And emotions are important here.
Today I am still angry. And hurt. And disappointed. And ashamed. And a whole host of other emotions that make my hands shake and stomach turn. Another life is gone and another conversation looms before us about the relationship between police officers and the black community, especially young black men. I don't know all the facts of Tony Robinson's death. Just like I don't know exactly what happened when Tamir Rice, Michael Brown, Eric Garner, or Sean Bell (and many, many, many others) died unarmed at the hands of police officers. We will never know all the facts because we weren't there and any investigation, however thorough, will only reveal so much. We may never know the facts, but we should all know that prejudice certainly played a role. Every cop, no matter the color of their skin, internalizes the systemic racist image of the black man as a dangerous criminal. It is ingrained in us early and stays even when we don't realize its presence. Or its power.
I want to illustrate that image with an experience from my childhood that haunts me to this day. And marks the moment when I finally realized how much I had internalized a pervasive racism I never even noticed before that day. When I was 14 I was finally allowed to stay home on my own. I could walk home from high school, find the key in our mailbox, slip in the back door (the front door never opened even with a key), and hide the key back in the mailbox. Going through that routine one day I swung open the door to put the key back in the mailbox and there was a man standing there, hand raised, about to knock on the door. We were both surprised and the surprise already had my heart racing (and probably his, too). He couldn't have been older than 25 and I think I remember he was holding a clipboard. I know now he was obviously going around the neighborhood doing a poll or collecting data of some kind. But at 14 I was skittish, easily scared, and still nervous about staying home alone. I was also, as I discovered that day, pretty damn racist**, though I had never thought I was.
The man asked if my parents were home (I remember not wanting to answer the question because... I don't honestly remember) so I told him I'd just gotten home. I don't remember what he said in return, but I do remember he took a very, very slight step forward and I remember taking a step back and jerking the door a noticeable amount towards closed, as if preparing to flee. I don't remember much of the conversation before this point, but I still remember with shocking clarity his next words. "Not all black guys are that bad." I can still hear the words as he spoke them, full of indignation, disappointment, anger, and a lot of other emotions I can't put a name to now any more than I could then. Then he turned and left and I closed the door and sagged against it feeling equal parts insulted and terrified.
I told myself with indignation that I would have reacted the same way if it had been a white man. Though I had to admit even in the heat of the moment I probably wouldn't have reacted that way if it had been a woman. I didn't want to think of myself as someone who was racist. I don't think anyone (at least anyone sane) wants to see themselves that way. But I had to admit that the color of his skin had played a role in how I reacted. When I looked back at the encounter later I realized I had handled it very poorly. And probably hurt someone very badly in the process.
The larger point is that we both knew why we I reacted the way I did. I knew, at least eventually, that I reacted to him because I was used to seeing black men portrayed primarily as violent, criminal people. I also realized that I saw men as a bigger physical threat than women in general. He was both. As his rebuke clearly showed, he knew both of my reasons. It took a very, very long time before I forgave myself for that encounter. I often wonder what its effects were on him or if he was just used to meeting with that level of distrust on a regular basis.
I realize now that even though the memory still causes me pain and discomfort to relive I am glad I had it. Many white people go through their whole lives never realizing they hold these prejudices. Never realizing that even though they say and firmly believe they aren't racist, they will still act instinctively when they feel threatened. And our subconscious, ruling over our instincts, has been taught from an early age that black and male is doubly dangerous. So we act and react that way, often causing an overreaction to a simple situation.
Now on the flip side of that encounter the black man I insulted had certainly gotten that reaction before. It was pretty clear even to 14 year old me. He was used to people not trusting him on sight. And now that I have lived a little and actually gotten to know more about black culture and black history I understand that black people learn different lessons in their childhoods than I did in mine. One of those lessons is that the police can't be trusted. And historically that belief is not unfounded. The 50 year anniversary of the march in Selma is illustration enough of that lasting cultural legacy.
None of this subconscious maneuvering in any way excuses my behavior. Or the behavior of the cops who have taken the lives of unarmed black men. Or the man who killed Rafael Ramos and Wenjian Liu. Or the people responsible for the shooting of two cops in Ferguson. It doesn't excuse it, but it gives us insight and I hope it will help us stop more incidents in the future. It is disappointing that we don't teach every kid who passes through the public education system about racial injustice, internalized racism, and institutional racism. But it is, to me, unpardonable that we don't do this for cops. It should be mandatory that every single cop on the streets or behind a desk get trained and educated on the cultures they will be serving. They should know, before they pull the trigger, that they may be pulling it for all the wrong reasons.
Raven. I hope you feel better. Sorry for the feelings post on a day that has already been pretty feelings-full for you. Sorry the post is a bit late! Work got in the way of a timely update tonight. I hope to hear from you tomorrow - I know you have your own sad post to write. Maybe I'll update tomorrow with some kittens or something just so we can have a happy moment on here this week!
*If you like knowing things about the world you should read her blog. If you don't like knowing things about the world you should still read her blog because it's brilliant and everyone should read her blog.
**Racism here = Power + Prejudice (I, being white, have more systemic power than someone who is black)
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