This chapter explores the meaning behind not only identifying as white (which is simple enough when we check off the census form), but also identifying white as a race in the same construct that black is a race. Being white, or whiteness, is a construct, with similar rules and roles and obligations as those that are imposed upon being black, or blackness.
“[B]eing a part of American organizations, institutions, and traditions came so easily to me, I couldn’t imagine what could be so tough about adjusting to them.”
There are at least two parts to being white. One is that we have an entire set of behaviors and standards, of value and assumptions, that we all just fall into and fall in line for, and the second is that we not only do not question it, we do not even see it. Whiteness comes easy to us because our non-whiteness is shaved off in order to bring us into conformity. “We don’t do that.” “That’s not right.” “Good people make better choices.” All stated with the confidence that our values are universal and helpful to everyone, yet our standards are designed in order to elevate us as white people. The simplest way to illustrate this is with any advertising that has people. I daresay not one white person in ten thousand would, upon seeing the ad contains only white people, would think a thing about it. Yet at the same time, an ad showing black or brown people would raise a comment in our minds. A shift either to include the characters as one of, by a deliberate choice, or to brand them as “the other.” For decades television shows centered white people. Movies still do. The movies that have leads who are not straight white American males are rare, and extraordinarily difficult to fund and produce.
“I had spent twenty-four years trying to ‘help’ and ‘fix’ others so that they could ‘fit in’ without once considering my role in perpetuating the dominant culture that was shutting them out.”
The key thing here for me is that wanting to “help” and “fix” makes me not just the hero, but the healed. I can do this for you, you broken people, because I have nothing wrong in me and nothing wrong with me. My choices are always good choices, my intentions are always honorable, and any discomfort you might feel, or any harm you might experience, are due to things entirely outside my control.
The problem with this is that it removes us from the situation. We are not doing good by staying above or out, as if we’ve done nothing to perpetuate or even to start the situation. In ways both big and small, whiteness intrudes upon the lives of non-white people, especially black and indigenous in America, with direct energy and intent. We can’t “fix” racism by deracinating black and brown and indigenous people.
“That disconnect created a gulf of ignorance from which all the confusing and upsetting feelings about race sprang—the nagging feeling that there was something I wasn’t getting, the anxiety about saying something offensive, the wall I could feel but couldn’t explain. I knew there was an elephant in the room. I just didn’t know it was me.”
I can’t say I’ve grasped this yet. I see the glimmer of meaning here. I have good intentions, good thoughts, good words. How could someone like me, with a kind, gentle heart, be perpetuation what I claim to detest? Ms. Irving makes the point here, I think, that our lack of awareness about ourselves is where actual harm arises. It is not a mark of shame to understand our part. It is taking adult responsibility.
“The idea that my career in the arts had revolved around trying to help those I’d been taught to see as less fortunate felt twisted. Understanding their misfortune as directly related to my good fortune made me feel as if I’d offered a hand to a drowning person, who was drowning because moments earlier I’d burned their ship out from under them. And worst of all, I had been giving myself a pat on the back for offering them a hand.”
This is such a direct line into my own soul. It’s an ugly thing, but it has to come out. I’ll admit to the temptation to be “good” in order to be seen as “good,” even to feel “good,” is very, very strong. I’ve not yet reached the place where I long for justice and honor so much that I don’t care about the bounceback or even blowback for myself.
“One day, peering at me through the steam coming out of the coffee mug pressed between her hands, she said, ‘You know, most white people don’t even think of themselves as having a race.’ She looked directly at me.”
Yeah, she looks at me, too. I don’t see the myriad ways in which my whiteness envelops me as a cloud. I’m very sure that my friends who are not white can describe in excruciating detail all the ways in which I present and behave as white, consciously or unconsciously.
And how incredibly honest her friend is. A few of my friends are like that, and have made the occasional open, honest statements to me about me.
“‘I’m like a novelty, and I can just feel people checking me out.'”
This is Ms. Irving’s friend noting that her presence in an otherwise all-white situation is deeply distressing and devaluing, and yet for Ms. Irving—who put her there—it was not even a thought.
“I cringe now to think I tried to comfort her by telling her that what she experienced wasn’t important enough for her to worry about. I doubt the impact of my minimalizing her sentiments was comforting in any way. The effect would more likely have been a message along the lines of ‘Your experience doesn’t count’ or maybe ‘It’s all in your head.’ I’ve had people dismiss my concerns; it’s shaming and alienating.”
I have done this to my friends. Yes. I have. I’m getting better at not being such a monstrously indifferent friend, and perhaps I can be trusted a little more, but the temptation is always there, to walk a mile in my own shoes and dismiss the journeys of my friends. (That I have friends when I’m like this baffles me.)
“What if I could have had the courage to take responsibility for my part in what had just happened and had apologized?”
Not only courage is needed, but awareness. I need to see what I’m doing, AND I need the courage to act better and speak out.
“How can racism possibly be dismantled until white people, lots and lots of white people, understand it as an unfair system, get in touch with the subtle stories and stereotypes that play in their heads, and see themselves not as good or bad but as players in the system?”
Rhetorical question, of course. Racism won’t go away through aging or even through being disproved as helpful. Racism goes away when enough white people act to dismantle it, directly and deliberately. It’s much easier to wait for the Greek Kalends than it is to take an active part in destroying the foundations of our society—and that might be one factor in figuring why racism has been a going thing for 400 years now.
“Little did I know when I began the awakening process the degree to which I’d need to leave behind my culture of bravado, comfort, and polite conversation to open up and grow.”
Yeah, this. Not to claim any bragging rights, but up until a moment in time when I realized that I would have to break off, I was in the position of thinking that I could evolve in my thinking without change, and that I could affect the society around me without requiring repentance.
Questions
Can you recall a time when you knew there was an elephant in the room and you only discovered what it was later?
Hidden agendas bore me, and hidden motives make me tired. Nonetheless, I have discovered them, but typically only while in the same room at the time.
Once you’ve recalled that time, make a list of the feelings you experienced. How did you feel once you got the full story and the elephant was exposed?
I felt angry and betrayed by the people I considered as my open, honest peers. And I felt like they had lost me as an honest partner, so much so that when a similar meeting was held, I was fully prepared to withstand the machinations. But they lost me as someone who would trust them.
For context on this series, see my kick-off post here:
Di Brown ‘Nixie’ at https://dianabrown.net/blog-challenge-waking-up-white/
This chapter (from 26-45): https://dianabrown.net/waking-up-white-the-final-chapters/
Dawn Claflin at https://dawnclaflin.wordpress.com/