I am white. I was raised in the 60s-70s, when equality was cool, but everything was white. While my town was diverse, it was diverse the way you buy a bag of red Swedish fish and find two blues, a green, three yellows, and the rest red. We “had black friends.” My parents were “we have black friends” people. To be fair, their only objection was if I dated a black boy, but still – all my toys, books, clubs, associations – everything was white. Pretty much all the time. Somehow, though, they raised a social justice warrior.
At 48, I began an undergraduate education. BEGAN. Studying Criminal Justice/Women’s & Gender Studies, my advocacy led me to classes like Wrongful Convictions, Ethics in Criminal Justice, Black Women in the US – classes that took me down the path of social justice. In a Political Science course, one of the required readings was The New Jim Crow by Michelle Alexander. I credit that White professor, and that book, for changing my course of action.
I also had an interesting classroom experience. Most of my age group graduated from college in the early 80s. It wasn’t a bad thing, per se, but they had bene educated earlier, and had been given different ideals. As time went on, however, I began to realize that many of them had never moved beyond those ideals – had never grown. Whereas the professors I was learning from, thanks to continued study, provided a wealth of information that examined a lot of what we learned in the 80s. In addition, I truly WAS the minority in my class – it was rare that there was anyone anywhere near my age. In discussions and group activities, it became apparent that I had a different viewpoint and ideology, as a result of my age, than many of my classmates.
So, I learned. I learned by asking my classmates about their experiences. I learned by reading the readings I was assigned – and then more. I spent time on google scholar and the library system, and I watched a LOT of documentaries.
It is no surprise that I am very focused on LGBTQ+ rights – I’m an Advocate at Rutgers for the Center for Social Justice Education. Having numerous gay people in my family, including my own two children, caused me to examine my biases. It wasn’t easy (I had an argument at a wedding with my son when I asked them why they were wearing makeup), but I continued to learn, and read, and examine my thought process (that same son, 3 years later, was the maid of honor at MY wedding – and looked magnificent!). But I knew little about race, really not a lot about gender, and almost nothing about history and how it had affected them both.
Maybe it’s because I was forced to do these things – read, write, discuss, work in groups, learn. Maybe it’s because I transferred to the Political Science Department to work, and the conversations got even more in depth and reflective. Maybe it’s because my supervisor got married, and I watched her freaking cute as heck biracial son walk down the aisle as her 18 month old ring bearer, but five years later, she was discussing with me having “the talk” with him – where to put his hands when he’s stopped in a car, how to stand, where to put his ID – all things I never had to discuss with either of my children. I realized that when my children left the house, I never worried that they would get killed by a cop during a routine traffic stop.
Some think this the result of being “forced” to learn with the “snowflakes,” but, I was like this before. In 1992, I sat with a priest and learned about systemic racism and the frustration at the fact that we had a recording of four police officers pulling a man from his truck and beating him to within an inch of his life – and they got away with it. In 1994, I heard someone speak on the death penalty and went home and rethought my position – and changed it (from for to against). Every position I’ve taken came from the result of learning from someone else. An article, a book, a documentary – I examined it all, and my mind expanded dramatically as a result.
Of course, if challenged, my first position is to get defensive. In Harrisburg at a conference one weekend, I went for a pedicure while my husband was working. The salon was in a strip mall in a rundown area – predominantly non-white. The place was clean, everyone was nice, and while there, I had a wonderful conversation with the women on either side of me (black and Latino).
During cocktails that evening, a woman (black) asked me where I had gone and how the experience had been. I told her it was a nice place, they did a great job, but the area was a little “ghetto.” “What do you mean?” she asked. I started to stumble over my words. What DID I mean? “You mean black.” “No, not at all. I just mean rundown” “Then why not say rundown? Why say ghetto? People hear ghetto and see black.”
I could have argued that she was ridiculous. I could have explained the actual HISTORY of the word “ghetto.” I could have done any of those things. Instead, I shut up.
I thought about that for weeks. HAD I meant black? I certainly didn’t consider the area “black;” there were Latinos there as well…but did I mean “not white?”
It took talking to people, both black and white, and giving some serious thought to my internal biases. And then I realized that yes, in fact, I did mean black. Even describing my own neighborhood at one time as a “ghetto,” I clearly used the term because the primary population was black.
That was difficult. To acknowledge I participated in systemic racism is one thing. That presented a more academic view that was methodical and logical. I can see that, work against it, or at least understand it.
But this – this was my own prejudice rearing its ugly head. I went out of my way NOT to do this. I had a diverse group of friends, I lived in diverse neighborhood, I bought my son Barbie dolls with different skin colors, I supported educational equity. I loved everyone, damnit!
I realized that I still had a LOT of work to do on my internal biases–that they didn’t go away in a blaze of fire like a phoenix, only to be reborn without them. I actually had to DO something. I didn’t necessarily mean march on Washington, but I DID need to recognize that I looked at things from a certain perspective, and that perspective was not everyone’s perspective, and looking at it from another might give me a different view.
I was an “All Lives Matter” person. I was a “my grandparents came here legally” person. I was a “I have nothing – I don’t know anything about privilege” person. And slowly, through education and action, I stopped allowing those thoughts to dictate my moves. Instead, I let “Black Lives Matter” dictate my moves. I let not wanting to see kids in cages for any reason whatsoever dictate my moves. And I let the knowledge that yes, there are things that do come easier for me because I’m white dictate my moves.
To understand white privilege without privilege, just imagine this. Maybe you don’t have money. Maybe you have to work two jobs to make sure you can afford your house and feed your kids. Maybe you work hard for everything you have.
Imagine people of color working twice as hard – and getting half as far. Because that’s THEIR reality.
I took a graduate class called “History of African American Education.” The most astounding thing I learned is that I knew nothing. And now, I can see the progression… from slavery to George Floyd. It could be a meatball, meatloaf, or hamburger – it’s still the same chop meat.
There are resources out there right now, you can’t spit without hitting one (but don’t spit, we’re still social distancing). Ask questions. Watch documentaries. Read articles online. A lot of them are free. Because we WANT you to learn.
You never know where it might lead you.
And by the way, those kids are not snowflakes – don’t get it twisted – they’re coming for us.
Don’t take my word for it – look it up.
Love, Lili