Autobiography Pt. 1: Mexico

I recently have been asked by a few people about how I became interested in antiracism.  In helping myself move forward, I realize that I need to look back.  Also, I hope to convey the sense that I too am on a journey; I am a work in progress.  This is part of my story.

When I was a little girl, I wanted to be Mexican.  Actually, I wanted to be Mexican until I was in my twenties.  During college, my obsession with speaking Spanish and immersing myself in “culture” reached its pinnacle, and I traveled to Mexico as often as I could.  I arranged to study abroad during college in Guadalajara, Mexico, and then later returned for a month on sabbatical.  I spent two summers traveling with different groups to Tijuana, Mexico as an interpreter on mission trips, and then returned for a few weeks on another sabbatical.  Eventually, I worked for a summer with a government agency (that will remained nameless) as a translator.  Basically, I translated and transcribed wire-tapped phone calls.  It was this same summer that I got into a relationship with a Mexican guy that revealed once and for all the absurdity of my obsession with the “other." I didn't actually like him for what he had to offer as a person, but for his language and ethnicity.  It was over the weeks of ending this relationship, accompanied by random nightmares from wire-tapped phone calls in Spanish, that my illusion of a mythical Mexico slowly faded and died.  

The obvious explanation for my interest in Mexico and the Spanish language comes from my parents, who hold glorious memories of the years we lived in California, where there were “lots of Hispanics,” and a few wealthy Portuguese dairy farmers.  Not that we knew many Hispanics or Portuguese dairy farmers personally, but the legend grew stronger in the years we lived in exile back in Illinois.  The years in California were better times for my parents.  They represented a strong community, mission trips to Mexico, church planting, and warm weather. It would seem natural that I would be interested in Spanish and Mexican culture. 

The strange part is, many people in California would prefer that all the Mexicans would just go back to Mexico.  Why did my parents hold this fascination, when in fact, we had mostly White friends, not Hispanic?  Is it possible that my parents were young expats of Missouri who wanted to break ties with their family and a perceived lack of culture they grew up with?  In any case, they passed down this perception to me, and I carried the desire with me into my young adult years to break with what I perceived to be a “non-culture” and find a robust cultural identity.

In fact, the effects of racism on White people include a sense of being “normal,” not ethnic or racialized.  In an attempt to assimilate and accrue the benefits of Whiteness, many light skinned immigrants had to shed the remnants of their foods, language and traditions.  This has left many White people divorced from their ethnic roots. This can create an anxiety in some White folks to find culturally roots anywhere they can, whether by hanging out with Black people, learning to speak Spanish, or eating at "ethnic" restaurants.  “Whiteness” is held as the norm, while other racial groups are seen as having “culture” (Frankenberg, 1993). The reality is that White people do have culture, it's just almost invisible because it's positioned as the dominant and privileged culture.

The positive side of my obsession with Spanish is that I did become fluent in a second language.  I was able to experience what it feels like to stumble over words and concepts in another language, exhaust my mental resources in one hour of conversation, navigate through cultural misinterpretations and experience the stages of culture shock.  I became aware that certain groups of people in my own country, namely immigrants and refugees, were pushed to the margins of society.  In my studies, I learned about cultural pluralism, economic and social inequality, and the hegemonic powers of colonialism and imperialism.  I learned there were different ways of viewing and understanding world events than from the "official" perspective of the United States' government. 

All this knowledge took a long time to seep into my understanding of the context in St. Louis, Missouri, though.  I still had tunnel vision for the glorified cultural “otherness” of immigrants and refugees.  I sought out situations to help refugee families, although I didn't establish real relationships with them.  I viewed immigrants and refugees, Hispanics particularly, as culturally, but not racially “other” (Bonilla-Silva, 2003). This is still a form of racism.  It is kind of like saying, "Hispanics are different, but not as different as Black people."  And during this time, I still held many anti-Black biases.  I believed that Black people were at least culturally different from me enough to inhibit any kind of intimate friendship.  I had in me the seeds of something that would grow into my work now, but I had a long way to go.

Autobiography Pt. 2: Cherokee Street.

References

• Bonilla-Silva, E. (2003). Racism without racists: Color-blind racism and the persistence of racial inequality in the United States. Lanham, Md: Rowman & Littlefield.
• Frankenberg, R. (1993). White women, race matters: The social construction of whiteness. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.

Christianity and Whiteness

In doing some reading this summer, I came across the works of antiracist activist Tim Wise.  I haven’t actually read his books yet, but I have listened to a few of his lectures on YouTube.   My first impression was pure awe.  I totally agree with his antiracist message, which he delivers with humor and selective profanity.  I found him helpful in clarifying otherwise muddied arguments regarding race and racism.  He inspired me to have the courage to speak out against racism. However, two things coincided for me.  

First, many of the people in my sphere of influence seem to dislike liberals, feminists, socialists, etc, a detail that has caused conflict between me and these same people at times. These friends cannot reconcile their worldview with these ideologies so as to even sympathize with the aforementioned groups.  This is supremely frustrating to me most of the time, and I have been known to express said frustration.  On the other hand, as Tim Wise pointed out, it's kind of like talking about "my momma."  I can do it, but don't you dare.  So when Wise starts "conservative bashing" on Twitter, it's not like I haven't done it before, but it hits me the wrong way coming from him.  And then he went there—he started insulting Jesus and Christians. 
 
I found myself slightly defensive, to say the least.  I argued, “I mean,  I understand there is hypocrisy in the Christian church, I get that there have been abuses, but for me, these have not been a correct representation or interpretation of my faith."  I find it supremely intolerant and hypocritical for Tim Wise to defend Islam and denounce stereotyping of Muslims for the acts of just a few, and then proceed to lambast Christianity and stereotype Christians.  Both religions have been potentially misinterpreted by groups of extremists.  Further, both religions have historically and currently do maintain hegemony in various parts of the world.  According to his own moral code, if it's not okay for him to stereotype Muslims or insult Islam, it should not be okay for him to do the same towards Christians and Christianity.

However, as I reflected on my reaction I suddenly had an "aha" moment regarding Christianity and its role in the U.S.  I suddenly saw the parallel between White privilege and "Christian privilege," between White supremacy and role of Christianity (or a distorted interpretation of it) since the before colonies were established by White settlers.   I'm not trying to gloss over the entire history of Christianity, and it's important to note that I’m locating my discussion in the U.S. 

All this to say, I realize there are reasons why Tim Wise and others would be angry at Christians, and specifically White Christians.  I also realized that I had used the same type of logic that I have heard other White people use when talking about "race," but this time applied it to religion.  The argument goes something like, "Well, there is racism in other countries.  Look at what [insert oppressive people group] did to [insert oppressed people group]."  At which point, I want to say, "Right, but we're in this country, and we have to deal with our mess, not theirs."  So in saying, "Islam maintains hegemony in other countries, oppresses people, etc." I should follow my own logic, "Right, but it doesn't here, whereas Christianity has and does."  

In this country, Christianity has a complex and problematic relationship with "Whiteness."  (This first and foremost evidenced by the fact that when I or other White Christians talk about Christianity, we are thinking about White people.) This dual identity, often seen as one and the same, maintained institutionalized slavery based on a hierarchical racial order.  This ideology continues to dictate life in the U.S. and has real psychological and material consequences.  White Christians cannot separate themselves from this history, nor from the present reality of segregation and racial inequality.  It must be acknowledged first before continuing in any public or community relations.  

My new stance is that Christianity may have earned a good number of the insults dealt out by Tim Wise, although I can't fully stand behind his type of activism.  We [White Christians] have marginalized and oppressed people of color, and we continue to maintain a segregated order (see Emerson's study, "Divided by Faith").  Secondly, as a Christian I am supposed to follow Christ, who "while being reviled, did not revile in return," and he was blameless—I am not.  Finally, I started to wonder how much of White Christian’s outrage at being "persecuted" in the U.S. is really just masked rage at losing privilege?  Rage at being perceived as anything but the norm?  Fear at losing power?  And anyway, how do Christians justify fear and rage?  Do we recognize it as such, or do we call it “righteous indignation”?  This is one of the reasons why we need truly diverse churches.  As Christians, we need the perspective of people from other racial groups to reveal our pride, indignation, fear, privilege and oppression for the purpose of repentance and reconciliation.

Critical interrogations of whiteness

I have been trekking through a book for the past two weeks, "White women, race matters: The social construction of whiteness" by Ruth Frankenberg (1993).  Part of the trek was due to my lack of familiarity with feminist theory.   After I did some background reading, I was able to better contextualize this work.  I also learned that feminist theory is quite useful for framing and discussing oppression, privilege, inequality and racism.  Standpoint theory, concepts of oppression (Frye, 1983) and privilege (Bailey, 2004; McIntosh, 1990) are particularly helpful in understanding and placing Frankenberg's work.

Standpoint theory is basically that a person’s standpoint (i.e. gender, race, class, etc.) determines how s/he views the world.   The dominant people, those at the top of society, do not clearly view those below them, while those in subordinate positions are able to see both their own position, as well as those in the dominant position.  While standpoint theory would suggest that those who are oppressed or subordinate in some way  could understand the oppression of other people more easily, there are some limitations.  For example, while it would seem that White women should be able to empathize with the perspective of people of color, women of color were historically excluded from the feminist movement.  While the White feminists had an understanding of oppression (i.e. "systematically related barriers and forces not of one's own making"), the understanding of the opposite side of the coin, that of White privilege (i.e. "unearned assets conferred systematically"), was not at the forefront of the feminist dialogue at that time.  Frankenberg documents how White identity prevented White women from seeing outside the hegemonic White Discourse.  In other words, it was not obvious that racism did and does also shape the experience of White women. 

In her book, Frankenberg discusses how many White women moved from anti-racist movements to the feminist movement.  However, the second wave feminist movement was dominated by White women's perspective, which marginalized and ignored the experience of women of color.  This is the intervention Frankenberg makes with her study, a series of interviews with 30 White women in the 1980s in California.   The women came from a wide range of backgrounds (i.e. ages, class, sexual orientation, place of origin, etc.); however, her sample did provide a disproportionate number of women who had been involved in the feminist movement and/or interracial relationships (i.e. partners and/or children).  Specifically, she uses interracial relationships as a focal point for examining the dominant discourse (or discursive repertoires) regarding race. 

Frankenberg defines racial difference as social constructed and historically located, which I see as related to the cycle of socialization (Harro, 2010).  We are socialized into ideologies by our families and institutions so we don’t even recognize them; the ideologies are considered to be the norm.  Whereas White people have often assumed that people of color have a racial identity and that they are affected by racism, they have largely been unaware of also being “racialized.”  Frankenberg holds that “Whiteness” is also socially constructed and has changed over time.  The very language that racializes the “other” (i.e. Native Americans, Hispanic, blacks and Asians) also defines Whiteness. 

Through critical discourse analysis, Frankenberg found that the White women in her study adopted one predominant discourse, a power- and color-evasive language (similar to Bonilla-Silva’s “color-blind racism”).  In other words, the women avoided or talked around issues of race, privilege, power and inequality. However, Frankenberg notes that for most of the history of the U.S. the concept of race has been defined in terms of biological difference or genetics.  This “essentialist racism” maintained that different phenotypical "races" were essentially different and hierarchical.  Therefore, the power- and color evasive discourse was marked by undercurrents of this essentialist racism.  Some of the women had escaped the cycle of socialization; they realized that racism did affect their loved ones and themselves and decided to move in an antiracist direction.  Frankenberg marked this as a “race cognizant” discourse.  Again, the power- and color-evasive discourse sometimes still subverted race cognizance in these women’s narratives, displaying the power of this hegemonic discourse.

Haviland's (2008) study also involves discourse analysis in an all-White setting.  Her results parallels and corroborates with the works of Frankenberg (1993) and Bonilla-Silva (2002, 2003).  Her particular niche is examining interactional White discourse in a setting that was intended to actually combat racism.  She found that "White educational discourse" prevented pre-service teachers in a multicuturalism seminar from moving beyond their racist perceptions.  Even the instructors of the seminar seemed unable to escape this discourse.  Semantic moves such as avoiding certain words, false starts, claiming uncertainty, and silence enabled participants to never confront each other about racially biased attitudes.  This discourse carried over into the classroom where a seminar participant was a student teacher.  She was unsuccessful in combating racism in the elementary school classroom because of her lack of awareness of the White educational discourse. 

The implications of this study are important for teacher educators, university supervisors, and cooperating educators, but also for other activists who wish to help White people overcome racist ideologies.  Haviland suggests actually using the "White educational discourse" against itself.  By staying within the norms of the students' culture, but still confronting racist perceptions, she hopes that they might be more open to changing racist perceptions.  Haviland's (2008) study, along with Frankenberg's (1993) and Bonilla-Silva's (2003) studies, are indispensable for researchers who wish to conduct qualitative research with regard to racism in all-White settings. 

References 

1. Bailey, A. (2004). Privilege: Expanding on Marilyn Frye’s “Oppression.” In L. M. Heldke & P. O’Connor (Eds.), Oppression, privilege, and resistance: Theoretical perspectives on racism, sexism, and heterosexism (pp. 301–316). Boston: McGraw-Hill.
2. Bonilla-Silva, E. (2002). The linguistics of color blind racism: How to talk nasty about blacks without sounding “racist.” Critical Sociology (Brill Academic Publishers), 28(1/2), 41.
3. Bonilla-Silva, E. (2003). Racism without racists: Color-blind racism and the persistence of racial inequality in the United States. Lanham, Md: Rowman & Littlefield.
4. Frankenberg, R. (1993). White women, race matters: The social construction of whiteness. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.
5. Frye, M. (1983). The politics of reality: Essays in feminist theory. Crossing Press feminist series. Trumansburg, N.Y: Crossing Press.
6. Harro, B. (2010). The cycle of socialization. In M. Adams, W. J. Blumenfeld, & H. W. Hackman (Eds.), Readings for diversity and social justice (2nd ed., pp. 45–51). New York: Routledge.
7. Haviland, V. (2008). “Things get glossed over”: Rearticulating the silencing power of whiteness in education. Journal of Teacher Education, 59(1), 40–54. doi:10.1177/0022487107310751
8. McIntosh, P. (1990). White privilege: Unpacking the invisible knapsack. Independent School, 49, 31.

Interracial Marriage

My husband and I finally made to Shakespeare in the Park to see Othello last week.  This was a tradition for us before we were dating, but since child #1 and #2 came, we hadn’t been in a few years.   For those of you, like me, who haven’t thought about Othello since high school (and I think we didn’t read the whole thing then, but watched the movie instead)…

Othello is one of Shakespeare’s tragedies, with possibly the worst villain in English literature—Iago.   Unfortunately, Iago is Othello's best friend.  Othello is one of Shakespeare’s few Black or “dark” principal characters.  There seems to be some debate as to whether Othello was truly Black in the modern sense of the term; nonetheless, it is clear that Othello is perceived as racially “other” in the play.  Othello marries Desdemona, who is described as White, which enrages Desdemona’s father.  Prior to this, Othello had been in good favor with Desdemona’s father as a Moorish prince and military officer.  Through a series of machinations, Iago manages to incense Othello by inventing a story of Desdemona’s unfaithfulness.  He plays on the idea that she will ultimately wish to be with someone who looks like her.  Othello ultimately kills his wife, and then kills himself when he finds out Iago has deceived him. 

This plot is supremely depressing, however, I don’t remember being as disturbed by the story as a high school student as I was this past week.   As I watched, I was horrified by the racial slurs, sexual innuendo, sexism and misogyny.   I looked around at the crowd and wondered what they were thinking about these atrocities taking place on stage.  As in previous years, I was aware that the majority of the crowd was White.  I think I noticed more Black people this time, but I’m not sure if that was because I was looking for them or if there were in fact more Black people present.  I wondered if it was also hard to watch for the Black folks.  I wondered if the White people were thinking, “Gee, I’m glad we don’t live in that time period.  See how far we have come?”  All I kept thinking was, “Nothing has changed.” 

Let me repeat that.  Nothing has changed.  There are still White parents who refuse to attend their daughter’s wedding because she married a Black man.  There are still White families who treat interracial couples poorly.  And conversely, there are Black men who won’t date a White woman because of the Black family’s negative feelings about this type of union, although admittedly this bias might be more defensible in light of our history.  However, it all ends up adding up to the same thing--attitudes against interracial marriage.  And these are only examples from people I know.  If you don’t want to take my word for it, there are also studies that have been done that document white people’s attitudes towards interracial marriages (Bonilla-Silva, 2002, 2003; Frankenberg, 1993). 

I focus on White people’s attitudes because the social construct of “Whiteness” has historically shaped the dominant discourse about "race' and racial difference in the U.S.  In other words, “Whiteness” is the concept by which all racial difference is measured and defined.   Laws made by White people and based on “Whiteness,” and backed by Christianity, forbid interracial marriages (i.e. White marriage with black, Hispanic, Asian, and Native American) until 1967 in the U.S.  The issue was and is also not limited to Black/White, however, there is evidence that White people’s attitudes towards people of color exist on a spectrum (i.e. Asian people are considered to be closest to White, while Black people are considered to be the most different, with everyone else falling somewhere in the middle). White people had the power to enforce these norms on everyone else.

One argument against interracial marriages has been that the interracial couple will struggle because of cultural differences.  The second argument, and perhaps more prevalent, has typically been the kingpin: “The children will suffer.”  These arguments are based on an understanding of White people as essentially different (either culturally and/or biologically) from Black people.  Second, the argument about the children acknowledges that racism still exists in society (i.e. the children will be treated differently because of their racial identity), but puts the onus on the interracial couple, not the society at large. 

Even when White people spoke in favor of interracial marriage in the studies I mentioned, it was mostly in ambivalent tones.  In other words, while there are strong arguments against interracial marriage, there has been a dearth of arguments for interracial marriages.   I recently had an e-mail conversation with a friend who pointed out the number of interracial marriages or unions in the Bible.  (While I realize that the modern concept of race based on phenotype is unique, I maintain that the concept of the “other” based on ethnic origin resulted in systemic and institutional hierarchy and discrimination from which we can draw many parallels.)    I quote my friend’s list below:

1.       Judah and Tamar: scholars believe that Tamar is probably Canaanite (Judah had already married a Canaanite wife Gen. 38:2); Tamar is “more righteous” than Judah (his own words in Gen. 38:26).

2.       Joseph and Asenath (daughter of Potiphera-priest of On) Gen. 41:45. Joseph and Asenath have two children—Manasseh and Ephraim (Gen. 41:51-52) who are adopted by Joseph’s father Jacob (Gen. 48:5) to become part of the 12 tribes!

3.       Moses (Jewish/adopted by Egyptians) and Zipporah (daughter of Reuel/Jethro/priest of Midian) Ex. 2:15-22; Ex. 18 “Guess who’s coming to Dinner?”; Family “dynamics” of inter-racial marriage Num 12:1-3,9-13.

4.       Salmon and Rahab (Canaanite in Jericho) Josh. 2; “she lives among the Israelites to this day” Josh. 6:25; Heb. 11:31; James 2:25 “considered righteous”

5.       Boaz and Ruth (Moabite) Ruth 1:4

6.       David and Bathsheba (debated if Bathsheba was Israelite or not)

7.       Timothy’s parents (Acts 16:1,3) “a disciple named Timothy lived, whose mother was a Jewess and a believer, but whose father was a Greek”

Christianity clearly has no basis for an argument against interracial marriages.  If anything, this would be a strong argument for interracial marriages, if nothing else because many of the couples listed above are included in the lineage of Jesus.  I believe that it is time we not only recognize that interracial marriages are not a problem, but that they are an advantage and a blessing.  The problem has always been the racist ideology that still prevails in society. 

References

1. Bonilla-Silva, E. (2002). The linguistics of color blind racism: How to talk nasty about blacks without sounding “racist.” Critical Sociology (Brill Academic Publishers), 28(1/2), 41.
2. Bonilla-Silva, E. (2003). Racism without racists: Color-blind racism and the persistence of racial inequality in the United States. Lanham, Md: Rowman & Littlefield.
3. Frankenberg, R. (1993). White women, race matters: The social construction of whiteness. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.