(x-posted at Social Science Lite)
It’s funny, I never really thought too much about liberal white guilt until I came to graduate school at Harvard. Now that I’m here in Cambridge, it seems to be a reoccurring topic of conversation. I don’t know, maybe the election of Barack Obama has made us think more about racial privilege. Or maybe it was conservative pundits informing me that the only reason I voted for him was my liberal, white guilt. Apparently, I just can’t seem to make a rational decision, with all that guilt building up inside me. Nor am I able to think critically about race, of course. I can’t see straight because of my overwhelming racial guilt, you see. And I just want to give people of color a leg up, even if they are “unqualified.” Damn whiteness, screwing with my moral compass!
White guilt always struck me as an interesting concept. You know, it’s like, why shouldn’t we feel guilty about things like racism and sexism, and feel a certain personal obligation to work for greater equality? I guess it can often cloud our thoughts, and cause us well-meaning white liberals to act paternalistic or reckless in search of diversity or social justice. My mom is going to kill me for writing this…but I know firsthand what it’s like to be around a, shall we say, overzealous racial liberal. She means well, but sometimes I just had to shake my head growing up.
Just like I think it’s possible to put white privilege in check, and be cognizant of my own racial advantage, so too do I think that it’s possible to keep liberal white guilt at bay. Well, at least that’s what I thought. While visiting my girlfriend’s family in Cleveland a few weeks ago, I faced a situation that helped me understand the basis of white guilt.
It was Saturday night. My girlfriend and I went out to dinner at a local chain restaurant in a (predominantly Jewish) neighboring suburb of Cleveland. Being the aspiring social scientist I am, I made the observation that the restaurant was about 50% white and 50% black. Having now spent a couple of years with me, my girlfriend has picked up on my knack for observing racial dynamics everywhere I go. She replied that she also noticed the balanced proportions.
After dinner we went to her friend’s house to hang out for a bit. Including my girlfriend and me, there were seven (white) people at the house, all gathered around the TV watching a Chris Tucker movie. She made the casual comment to the group, “We went to X restaurant tonight. It was interesting; about half white, half black. I don’t remember it being that mixed when we went to high school.” One of her friend’s roommates, flipping through a GQ magazine (I’m not making this up), fixed his collared shirt and nonchalantly chimed in: “It’s been happening for years. It used to be a cool place to hangout. It would be cool, if it wasn’t for all the schvartzes.”
These are the moments that public intellectuals like Tim Wise thrive on. The kind of situation in which you put a bigot in his place, telling him that it’s not right to use Yiddish slurs for black folks. In White Like Me, Wise goes through strategies to put white privilege in check, particularly when racist “jokes” or slurs are made amongst white friends. But I didn’t use any of Wise’s strategies. I didn’t come up with any witty response. I didn’t say, “What are you afraid of? That you will catch some sort of black disease? That their blackness will rub off on you? That somehow, being in proximity to black people will hurt your good time? This isn’t the Jim Crow South—do you expect blacks to eat at different restaurants, and frequent different stores? Are you that ignorant?” I didn’t say any of that. I didn’t demand that he clarify his insult, noting that the blacks at the restaurant that night were by and large middle-aged, and middle class (though, it shouldn’t matter). I didn’t yell, I didn’t laugh it off, I didn’t do anything. I just sat there, mind running a million miles a minute, seething with anger.
The rage continued to build up, but I didn’t say a word. I was paralyzed, shocked, stunned. I sat there, silent, and silenced by my inability to articulate a powerful response. Chris Tucker made a joke on TV, and everyone laughed. My window of opportunity to say something, anything, passed. I wanted to say, “It’s cool to laugh at their jokes, but God forbid they want to go to the same restaurant as you.” But I didn’t.
It’s moments like this—moments when we are tested and fail to respond to racism—that leave a lasting imprint and a simmering rage in the very depths of our souls. I feel ashamed that I let his comment go unchecked, and personally responsible for similar situations that occur daily. I caught a glimpse of casual, recreational racism. And I did nothing. And it made me sick.
I realized, this is where white guilt comes from.
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But lots of us hate self-righteousness and preaching. I never do it. I have a series of well-executed put-downs and come-backs that have stood the test of time.
About the restaurant: “You don’t mind if they’ve been cooking your food all these years, you just don’t wanna eat with them, is that it?”
I have a million of them, and I suggest all white people get a parcel of smart-ass replies. Not only do they work in a pinch (and you don’t have to worry about the “wit” in a pre-rehearsed reply), but they get everyone talking at once and immediately free up other repressed whites to chime in, laugh at the person, etc. Never fails.
For instance, if someone else had put him down, then YOU would have felt okay laughing uproariously at him. In my experience, there are usually at least two other whites (even here in the south) who also don’t know what to say, and if you say something smart-ass, you free them to go ahead and start in on him, too.
Don’t be so hard on yourself. It has taken me 52 years to learn all of this stuff, including my well-rehearsed replies.
But I think you are correct about the white guilt… since I started doing that? Don’t have any. :) And I have lots more fun!
I guess the only thing we can learn from moments like that is that the next time around you stand up for what you believe in. Does it make a difference? I don’t know. For every single time I’ve stood up and said something in response to a racial comment or had a discussion with someone where I try to change there stereotypical views, I doubt it has ever had an impact, but you gotta keep trying, right? Because well, you just have to stand up to that kind of stuff, if no one did, what kind of world would we live in?
If you haven’t already, you should check out Inga Muscio’s book Biography of a Blue Eyed Devil.
That isn’t white guilt though. You’re not feeling guilty because of what white people have done, but what you’ve personally done. To be ?white guilty?, you need to feel guilt over the actions of your ancestors, or your non-ancestors who nonetheless shared your racial group.
That you should feel guilty for what you did, hopefully we can all agree. Whether you should feel over white people enslaving black people in North America when you took no part in it, is a separate question. (And even here, it’s hard to gauge how much our ancestors did/could have done. I’m sure my own ancestors weren’t particularly helpful, but I’d guess those who came over to North America during potato famines and highland clearances had little influence. In this I may be wrong, and I don’t really know all my ancestory (and certainly not all the way back to Y chromosome Adam or mitochondrial Eve.))
Brian: what you’re talking about isn’t white guilt. White guilt is the knowledge–however aware or subconscious–that you personally, as a white person today, continue to benefit from a society that was set up with enslavement and other outrageous forms of oppression built in, very often at non-white people’s continuing expense.
It’s a very uncomfortable truth, which is why white people often either feel guilty about it or deny it rabidly.
This was a fantastic post. I have often felt similarly when people make homophobic or anti-gay comments in front of me. I know these people and they are friends of friends, people you eat lunch with, etc. And sometimes I say things, but other times I am so taken aback by what is being said and the nonchalant manner it’s said in… I am literally stunned into silence.
I can also relate to what you say when ‘why shouldn’t we feel guilty’ about racism and sexism and heterosexism etc. Because it is wrong. I guess all we can do is evaluate ourselves and try to put whatever privileges we have in check and not take advantage of them. Or at least understand that we have advantages others do not.
And next time, hopefully we will all have the power to say something when someone is racist, sexist, etc. It’s hard, but I believe that it is the little things that can add up and make a difference and make people realize their own privilege.
Again, great post.
I’ve always found the white guilt accusation strange. I’m not very good at feeling guilty about things myself, unless it’s for letting myself down in some way. Though I intellectually accept the arguments about how much I’ve benefited from privilege, emotionally I have totally failed to stop feeling entitled and thinking I deserve everything I have. And yet I have no trouble seeing that the world sucks for a lot of other people, and wishing it were better for them and even feeling like I want to do something to make things better for them. I don’t even get why someone would think I’d have to feel guilty about my own status to feel compassion for others.
I would say that it was a good thing that you didn’t respond with the seething anger you felt because that could have very well led to a very ugly but uncessary confrontation where no one would learned anything and feelings would have been hurt. You would be pissed, they would be pissed, and you might be minus one friendship. If they refuse to learn then you’re better off without them but coming down on them like a ton of angry bricks might not be the best way to start.
And while what Daisy says can work and feel good spitting off a smart ass reply can be read as a sign that you are more concerned with one upping someone instead of showing them the error of their ways, which could lead to said unecessary confrontation. Not to say they can’t be effective just saying they are not always the best choice for first resort.
But please don’t feel bad that you didn’t speak up.
Sometimes you’re just stunned into silence when you hear a comment like that.
I’m used to getting hit on a almost daily basis with some sort of racist insult, so I can not only recognize it, but have a rapid verbal response waiting to strike back..
But call the negativity out. Even if it doesn’t have an effect on the bigot in question, you may still get someone else within earshot of your verbal take down to think about what was said and take steps to modify their own behavior..
You never know
Great article. I had a similar experience in the last week, when I was travelling in Texas on business, doing a great deal of work with a small group of people. One of these people kept on using the expression (which I had never heard before) that we were “working like Mexicans”, and another continually used the word “retarded” meaning, of course, “bad” or “stupid”. Each of these happened multiple times, but I didn’t really feel I could say anything — their turf, and I was there to help them.
One of the things that angers me about that sort of off-handed racist comment is the assumption that I’m OK with hearing it just because I’m of the same skin tone as the commenter. There was an instance a few years ago when I walked out of an Indian/Pakistani buffet place, only to have this exchange with a fellow just outside the door:
Some Unfamiliar White Guy: “Is it any good in there?”
CartoonCoyote: “Well, I just polished off three full plates if that’s any indication!”
SUWG: “So what is it, like, camel-jockey food or something?”
CC: (blankly stares at SUWG for about six seconds in total silence) “I’m sorry, but I really don’t care for that term.”
CC swiftly walks away from SUWG, nearly breaking his ankle stepping off the curb in his haste to reach his car before giving into the urge to rip SUWG a new asshole, then realizes that there’d be no clear place to start since SUWG is clearly 100% asshole.
@Danny
I disagree with your response. “don’t feel bad that you didn’t speak up” and “can be read as a sign that you are more concerned with one upping someone” particularly.
Others have said what I’m saying many many times before, but I’ll repeat it: being silent is usually taken as agreement, and so racists continue on with their racism thinking they have the agreement of everyone around them.
Also, by silently maintaining a space as “safe” for racists, you are maintaining a space that is unsafe for POC. Making it clear, consistently, that a space is NOT safe for racism is the only way the racists are marginalized, and made to feel that their views are not shared by the majority of people around them. This contributes to the de-mainstreaming of casual racism, removed from the category of the every-day, the ordinary, the norm.
That said, I appreciate Jeremy’s honesty and must admit that I too have passed on opportunities to call out racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, ableism and classism. For me, I am often scared of rocking the boat, or of displeasing authority figures at work.
My personal struggle is to move past that fear and to remember that my solidarity is with POC (and any oppressed group for that matter) and that liberation for POC is liberation for everyone.
Czech I didn’t say that he shouldn’t speak up at all I’m saying that he shouldn’t feel bad about not doing so. Feeling bad is where the the shame and resentment start. Go right to thinking about why he didn’t speak up and face that problem so that people won’t think that he is silently approving of the -ism.
And about this:
“can be read as a sign that you are more concerned with one upping someone”
I have crossed paths with people who were more concerned about making a scene and getting some pats on the back than actually showing someone what they are doing is wrong and -ist. One sign is when the person that made the scene is commenting “That’ll show ‘em!” instead of pondering if they made a positive influence. I’m not going to call out an -ist action to stroke my ego but to get that person to change.
That said, I appreciate Jeremy’s honesty and must admit that I too have passed on opportunities to call out racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, ableism and classism. For me, I am often scared of rocking the boat, or of displeasing authority figures at work.
Yes it is pretty bold to admit fear like that. Like I said to the OP even though you missed those opportunites I would much rather for you to think about how to confront why you were scared to sit and feel bad about not speaking up.
For me, it’s a tradeoff. I’ve managed to break most of my friends of the habit of calling things they don’t like “gay” through a policy of constant mocking, but haven’t really called them on “retarded.” When someone says something extremely racist, I point out that it was, but I let the jokes about my Colombian boyfriend being an illegal immigrant slide with nothing more than a frown and pointed non-laughter. I explain what little I know about transgender issues, but I’ve given up on the anti-choicers.
I mean, ideally one would call out every issue of kyriarchy-supporting behavior, but that risks getting me branded as the PC brigade (I mean, more than I am already) and losing any chance I actually have of educating my friends. If I wasn’t here, then my best friend would be getting all her opinions from Glenn Beck. So I just try to make my opinions clear and watch them (slowly) get better.
A few days ago, I took on some transphobic comments, but since the majority of the class was transphobic, it didn’t do much. I felt horrible, but I suppose none of these people had even heard the term “transphobic” before, so at least I made some impact.
I forego the snappy comebacks and keep it personal, but as kind as possible, as in, “You know, it’s hard sometimes to be your friend when you say shit like that.” I try to make it clear that I dislike the behavior, but that it is also worth isolating myself from that behavior down the line. I don’t know how effective that would have been in Jeremy’s situation, considering he may or may not have been among friends.
Yeah Lauren, that’s part of what made this situation (and other like it) particularly difficult to manage: I had just met these people. A couple were childhood friends of my girlfriend, but the guy in question was just a casual friend from high school. When it’s your own friends, there’s a different set of tools to react…but it’s a whole heckuva lot more ambiguous when it’s pseudo-strangers. This definitely played a role in my inability to articulate, you know, any response at all.
Jeremy: I have a hard time speaking up to strangers about something that makes me mad unless I am able, willing, and prepared to fight about it (and I mean fight, because usually this shit means conflict, yelling, fisticuffs). It was easy when I was younger and more cocky — I used to bank on the fact that nobody was going to kick the twenty-year-old blonde in the teeth in public even if she was extraordinarily mouthy. I like the idea of having the ready-made snappy comebacks but that’s exactly the type of thing I forget when it matters — but even that can be considered confrontational in most circumstances.
Maybe it’s the Midwest Nice that makes it so goddamned difficult. But thinking about it, actually, I sort of use that in my favor, because I can smile and say, “That’s not it at all, and here’s why” even at work with the unwashed public and they’re far more likely to engage, however briefly, about it.
Jeremy – I have no delusion that my protests at racist/sexist/homophobic comments are going to actually change the mind of the person making them. However, I have trained people who make those comments not to make them around me. My hope is that if enough people do that, they’ll start thinking twice about making those comments to anyone.
Danny: And while what Daisy says can work and feel good spitting off a smart ass reply can be read as a sign that you are more concerned with one upping someone instead of showing them the error of their ways, which could lead to said unecessary confrontation.
I am not taken as seriously as all that… sounds like somebody important talking.
Really, due to my age, class, sex, self-presentation etc, I am read more as a folksy old hippie (known as charmingly “scrappy”) than someone into “one upping”–in fact, I don’t think anyone has ever said that about me (IRL), now that you mention it.
Why some people can get away with snappy, scrappy put-downs and others are thought to be personally one-upping = that’s a post all by itself.
I’m not white, and I’ve had similar experiences to the ones you described. I think a lot of anti-racist people have that experience, so I would hesitate to call it the source of “white guilt”.
I know I’ve seen “white guilt” used pretty disparagingly on anti-racist blogs, and I think there it was connected with an overzealous and sort of reverse tokenization/fetishization. Like, I’ve heard people on Livejournal say “Oh, I want to be friends with POC because I know I’m going to learn more about anti-racism from their posts!” To me, it was creepy, because it was not seeing myself and other POC as people, who posted stupid stuff and generally talked about their lives, but as almost ~*~mystical forces~*~ that were going to make you anti-racist.
I’m curious to know what your girlfriend’s response was, and how she feels about it.
While I’m far from reluctant to speak up and call out a lot of shitty, oppressive language (I do admit there’s some I’m more reticent on) I wouldn’t necessarily do so to people I had just met who were friends of my partner. I would, however, expect my partner to do so. I’m far less frequently disappointed on this front than I was when we started dating.
Thanks for this post. I wrote one on my own blog a month or two ago on the exact same thing. A visiting journalist was saying that local people’s resentment at being an internal colony was ridiculous and not worth considering. I realized then that we were three upper-middle class white westerners discussing whether or not oppressed people have the right to be angry. Thankfully, the other resident who was participating is involved in social justice as well and had been arguing the same point as me, so our silence itself might have been meaningful.
This post made my day.
Dude, I hate moments like that. Most of the time I am sitting there thinking, Really? It’s [year] and you’re still saying that? Really?? Sometimes I’m on the ball and can comment with putting on, as someone commented in another blog, without putting on my Rage Goggles first.
Still. And then there’s the embarassment of knowing an asshat who would say something like that in public.
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