I’ve been thinking,
and we all know that isn’t good. But then Rebecca
Watson nailed it. However, I debated actually posting this because I don't want it to sound race apologist. However, my friend BA and I were talking about an article (mentioned below) in which we felt yes, right on, but also, maybe the author didn't take everything into consideration. Upfront, I'm very white bordering on translucent, and BA rocked a pretty awesome Afro a few years back. We're also both women, which is where our concerns about the article are rooted.
See after the acquittal of George Zimmerman, we’ve all been talking about how black men are feared in our society because of systemic racism. Some people can say it is for some other reasons, but at the end of the day it is racism. We live in a racist society, and it takes its toll on all of us. How we handle that is what matters. I also wanted to wait and completely think through what I’m about to say because I do not believe race, class, and gender are treated the same way with in our culture, and I would never want to equate any of these, but there is something to be said about intersectionality and the way these social constructs play out. Additionally, I believe there is a common ground when we boil everything down, but how we get there is very different. However, if we can all remember this common ground then maybe solidarity building will be a little easier. Let me state, I am not Trayvon Martin. I am a white woman, lower-middle class, sure, but I have no idea what it is like to be black or a man. I can’t imagine it; my whiteness and woman identity won’t allow that. I can however empathize. Finally, this post isn’t about the legality of the Zimmerman verdict. This is about how we get to a place where that verdict is legal.
See after the acquittal of George Zimmerman, we’ve all been talking about how black men are feared in our society because of systemic racism. Some people can say it is for some other reasons, but at the end of the day it is racism. We live in a racist society, and it takes its toll on all of us. How we handle that is what matters. I also wanted to wait and completely think through what I’m about to say because I do not believe race, class, and gender are treated the same way with in our culture, and I would never want to equate any of these, but there is something to be said about intersectionality and the way these social constructs play out. Additionally, I believe there is a common ground when we boil everything down, but how we get there is very different. However, if we can all remember this common ground then maybe solidarity building will be a little easier. Let me state, I am not Trayvon Martin. I am a white woman, lower-middle class, sure, but I have no idea what it is like to be black or a man. I can’t imagine it; my whiteness and woman identity won’t allow that. I can however empathize. Finally, this post isn’t about the legality of the Zimmerman verdict. This is about how we get to a place where that verdict is legal.
We should take a
minute and look at the culture of fear we live in, and its impact on the various
groups within it. Take a minute to remember the culture of fear
surrounds 9/11
and terrorism in addition to the domestic
fears we’re all taught. I’m just saying the US is no stranger to breeding a
culture of fear (which goes farther back than 9/11) to keep people compliant
and malleable to the will of those in power. I will not presume to discuss what
it is like for a black man in our society. I will however point you to Questlove
and Colorlines,
and ask you not to read Richard
Cohen
(actually that last one is just good life advice, but the links take to you to
some criticism of his article).
Questlove’s piece, “Trayvon
Martin and I ain’t shit,” talks about being the default group stimulating fear
in other groups, “I mean, that is a crazy way to live. Seriously, imagine a
life in which you think of other people’s safety and comfort first, before your
own. You’re programmed and taught that from the gate. It’s like the opposite of
entitlement.”
Yes. This resonated
with me in a way that is difficult to explain. For women, this is
socialization. We’re supposed to worry about other people and their feelings.
As Questlove get to in his piece, there are exceptions when you fear for your
safety. But my comfort always comes after everyone else’s, always. This means
waiting longer, physically moving or being moved out of the way, pushed to the
side, and a severe attitude when I presume to speak up for myself.
Once, in an
undergrad sociology course, we were asked if we’d cross the street it we say a
black man walking toward us on an empty street. Everyone in the class vehemently
denied ever doing that, and stated they would never. I said I would. Although, I
noted, not because the man coming toward me was black, but instead because the
man was a man. As a woman, I was taught to fear men (usually men of color) I don’t
know, hell after our freshman orientation, we were told to fear the men you
know as well. Even now, years later, after so many life experiences that prove
men you don’t know are way less likely to hurt you, I still would cross that
hypothetical street. I know the stats on stranger assaults, but that indoctrination
runs too deep. Jessica
Valenti has a great piece on white women’s fear of men of color for The Nation. Want proof? Women are told to have their headphones in, but their Ipods off so we can hear what is going on around us, but be able to pretend we can't hear street harassment, walk with your keys between your knuckles, don't walk alone, don't walk alone after dark, don't get into a car with a man you don't know (or you know), etc.
In a way, Questlove
and I are coming from completely opposite sides of the same experience, yet
arriving at similar conclusions. Black men are taught they will always be
feared, while women (I’d say all women, but in the literature the emphasis is
on white women) are taught we’ll always be the victims, and it will be our fault
unless we do everything and then some to prevent it (it should be noted that
when the perpetrator of violence against women is white, it is her fault, but
if he is a man of color than it is his fault according to the racist sociological
power structure). Please see my many posts on rape and victim blaming. It is kind of
amazing in a way we’re both at fault for everything by doing nothing. In the
end we’re both trapped in this system, and there is nothing we can do about it.
Even when I make a conscious effort not to do something I know to be sexist or
by extension racist (crossing the street to avoid a man or group of men), I
know that if something were to happen my lack of avoidance would make it my
fault. We get these roles assigned, and there is no way to shake them without
overthrowing the system we are stuck in (which I advocate). And as a result black men are taught
to be overly reassuring that they are no threat, and women are taught that if
you do not treat everyone as a threat then you are leaving yourself open to victimization.
The gender dynamic at play here is emphasized when Questlove discusses when he found himself in an elevator with a woman. He asked her which floor was her's to push the button, and she didn't tell him. He assumes this is because he is black, and therefore perceived as a threat to women. However, as BA and I discussed, this isn't just a race issue, nothing is because everything intersects. This is a gender socialization issue as well. That said, this woman could have withheld information just because he is black, but we don't actually know other than that is how Questlove felt. BA and I wouldn't tell any man in an elevator which floor was our's. The sheer act of asking puts me on the defensive.
My friend S, a woman of color, agreed with Questlove; she thought the woman in the elevator withheld the information because he was black. She and I discussed it, and I explained I would never tell a dude my elevator floor within my age range or slightly older regardless of color, but maybe more so if he were white (statistically you're more likely to be attacked by members of your own race). S pointed out that being older she has even less concern, and we both agreed that class factors in (are you more or less likely to tell a man in an elevator your floor if the hotel is really nice or not?). S and I also discussed President Obama's assertion that if Martin were white he'd be alive. If Martin were white and middle class he wouldn't have been stalked. And even if we pretend that Martin had attacked Zimmerman, which I don't believe, if Martin were white he'd have been in the clear.
The gender dynamic at play here is emphasized when Questlove discusses when he found himself in an elevator with a woman. He asked her which floor was her's to push the button, and she didn't tell him. He assumes this is because he is black, and therefore perceived as a threat to women. However, as BA and I discussed, this isn't just a race issue, nothing is because everything intersects. This is a gender socialization issue as well. That said, this woman could have withheld information just because he is black, but we don't actually know other than that is how Questlove felt. BA and I wouldn't tell any man in an elevator which floor was our's. The sheer act of asking puts me on the defensive.
My friend S, a woman of color, agreed with Questlove; she thought the woman in the elevator withheld the information because he was black. She and I discussed it, and I explained I would never tell a dude my elevator floor within my age range or slightly older regardless of color, but maybe more so if he were white (statistically you're more likely to be attacked by members of your own race). S pointed out that being older she has even less concern, and we both agreed that class factors in (are you more or less likely to tell a man in an elevator your floor if the hotel is really nice or not?). S and I also discussed President Obama's assertion that if Martin were white he'd be alive. If Martin were white and middle class he wouldn't have been stalked. And even if we pretend that Martin had attacked Zimmerman, which I don't believe, if Martin were white he'd have been in the clear.
I want to point out
that by keeping black men the cause of all things to be feared and women in
constant fear, those with social power keep it. They benefit from this structure…someone
always benefits or that structure wouldn’t exist anymore.
Questlove also talks
about the compartmentalization of feelings because of interactions with people
who present fear: “But my feelings don’t count. I don’t know why it’s that way.
Mostly I’ve come to the conclusion that people over six feet and over weight
regulation or as dark as me (or in my tax bracket) simply don’t have feelings.
Or it’s assumed we don’t have feelings. I mean, it’s partially right: I
literally figured the only way for me to not go insane is a career that creates
junkies (or at best Kanye) is to desensitize myself from feelings. The thing
is, though, I’m a halfway crook, an awesome poker player. Yeah, I hurt. But I’ll
be damned if I let you know that. Call me a 75 percent robot, 25 percent human
being.”
This struck me
because several of my friends point out my emotional responses to situations
are not appropriate, i.e. not the response they expect or desire. It breaks my
heart that an entire group of people behaves this way. However, part of me also reread that and went over six feet tall? Really? I've had men physically pick me up and move me out of the way, friends do this and men I don't know with a complete disregard to my feelings, comfort, or my personal space. But there are specific instances in everyone's lives when they are presumed to not be important enough to have their feelings taken into account.
A personal anecdote, after graduating high school with honors my mother told me and my sister J that she was so proud of us. Sure, we had high class rankings, honors, etc. But what my mother was proud of as she would go on to tell me was that a junior high school instructor told her that my sister and I were too stupid to go to the college prep high school we chose; the same school our older sister attended. She advised my mother to save the tuition because we’d never finish. The bar was set so low, our feelings, aspirations, etc didn't matter. I remember when my mother said this I laughed and was crushed, I had always liked that instructor. Questlove also mentions laughing when he felt like crying in the face of some of these experiences.
A personal anecdote, after graduating high school with honors my mother told me and my sister J that she was so proud of us. Sure, we had high class rankings, honors, etc. But what my mother was proud of as she would go on to tell me was that a junior high school instructor told her that my sister and I were too stupid to go to the college prep high school we chose; the same school our older sister attended. She advised my mother to save the tuition because we’d never finish. The bar was set so low, our feelings, aspirations, etc didn't matter. I remember when my mother said this I laughed and was crushed, I had always liked that instructor. Questlove also mentions laughing when he felt like crying in the face of some of these experiences.
I mention this
because I attribute my emotional compartmentalization to reactions to
situations stemming from my childhood, which often had a class and gender
focus. Poor kids are stupid and won’t amount to much. Girls should worry about
getting married and having babies because, what else are they going to do? This
last stereotype is of particular importance when it comes to the intersections
of class and gender. The bar is set so low that you always prepare for and
expect the worse. Part of this is of course, women are supposed to be accommodating
so you can’t put people out with your feelings, and the being low-income means
presenting like nothing bothers you. Like Questlove, I have a pretty great
poker face. I found this line so poignant because a few months ago, I was
playing cards with a group of people, predominately white men, and all of them
wore their thoughts and feelings on their faces. At the time, I didn’t think
much of it, but after a while I got to thinking it might be because it was rare
they had to hide their feelings. Of course, there is nothing wrong with that,
no one should have to, and arguably for me at least it has gotten to the point
where I can’t not hide my feelings. I feel exceptionally vulnerable when I
share my feelings, even the most trivial, which is why I only divulge such
information to trusted friends.
Questlove closes
his piece by asking a very simple question, “I’m still human, right?” This too
struck so close to home. I ask this question all the time and used it as a response.
When asked about my desire to work with the homeless and the low-income, I
always say because they’re human and deserve what we all deserve. Every time I
read another anti-choice bill is up, or when a public figure suggests women
should be kept at home, or when there is a new redevelopment group going
through Slavic Village pushing more low-income people out of homes and business, I ask that, but I don't know if Ohio
has redefined what human means to exclude us. I also find myself asking this or reading a variation of this question in respect to sexual assault
We're all human, and those who benefit from oppression benefit from convincing us other people are less than human.
We're all human, and those who benefit from oppression benefit from convincing us other people are less than human.
***I want to note
that I’m talking about men of color and women (inclusive definition), but even if
not called out specifically, I think we can expand this argument to the LGBTQ
population as well as other people of color. Though, again, I wouldn’t presume
to speak on their behalf.