"You see racism where there isn't any..."

Awesome news! Actually, not awesome; annoying news... (there is some swearing in this post.)

I got an email about my post on the George Zimmerman post I wrote.  In this long-winded, ridiculous, and offensive email I was told that "blacks are too sensitive about this case, and about racism in general;" "you see racism in situations where there isn't any;" and "you should be happy about the changes for the better, at least your not a slave now;" along with an explanation about what racism is.

If you sent me this email, first of all you are a coward for not using your real name.  Secondly, you have not bothered to read anything that has been posted to give you a better understanding of racism through the lived experience of black folks. (See Questlove's article about the Trayvon Martin murder.)  Third of all, fuck you.  You think that you are adding an important aspect to this discussion, but you are not. 

Because I believe that people may not understand what I mean when I say "racism," I thought that I would define racism as I see it.

Audre Lorde defined racism as a scourge that pervades every aspect of society; it is the "belief in the inherent superiority of one race (whiteness) over all others and thereby the right to dominance." (Lorde, Sister Outsider, 1984, page 115.)  Stuart Hall adds that racism is an institutional hegemony of white folks over other raced people through economic, political and ideological practices. (Hall, "Race, Articulation and Societies Structured in Dominance," 1980, page 338.)   But trying to define the institutional and complex social relations it encompasses is extremely tricky.  Racism is part of the English language.  People still use the word "minorities" to describe people of color-- who outnumber the white population of planet Earth.  There is a hierarchy inherent in that word that has nothing to do with numbers.  The pervasiveness and institutionalized nature of racism in our society is what makes it so insidious; an endemic feature of society that permeates every aspect of it.  It also makes it seem invisible to white folks who can decry overt examples of racism as crude and uneducated while ignoring or perpetuating underlying institutional racism in their daily interactions (or emails) with non-white folks.

It is the institutionalization of racism that makes it oppressive; but also renders the notion of "reverse-racism" a myth.  Because "white" culture dominates our institutions in our society,  there is no way that non-white races have access to power needed to oppress white folks.  There is definitely prejudice towards white folks, but at the end of the day, white people don't have to worry that their may lose the right to vote, or that the police will assault them.

In short, racism is big.  Really big.  And not fixable over night.  And something that I see EVERYWHERE.

Sci-fi writer Catherine Shaffer wrote on her blog So Shiny a great response to people who ask the question, "why are people calling me a racist?"  See the whole post here.  What I would like to highlight is the list of rules to follow if you truly want to try and fight racism. She writes: 
    

 

Great words of advice for anyone who takes this as seriously as I do. 

That's probably enough angry blogging for now.  Have a great Saturday!

A Few Thoughts on the Zimmerman Case

I have been thinking about what to say about the Zimmerman case.... I mean what is there to say that hasn't been eloquently stated by some writers far more gifted than I am? I was never angry.  I was sad.  But I knew what would happen.  People said I was negative, and cynical. 

I am neither: I just know how entrenched in racism our legal systems are.  There is inequity in the justice systems of the US and Canada (even though, Canadians will say that these systems a very different.) I would note that in terms of racism, they are more similar than you would think.

Of course the Zimmerman verdict went the way it did.  History has shown that the law simply doesn't value the lives of black folks.  I would add that most other races other than white folks rarely fare well in the legal system.  Think of the Scotsborough boys, Lynch laws, the death of Emmett Till, and the arrests of numerous black panthers and civil rights activists. 

But Stephanie, those examples are from so long ago, surely it has changed for the better now? 

I don't want to think of legal racial equity as on a spectrum anymore.  If I continue to think of it that way, I'll get complacent-- I need to think in terms of right and wrong; working and broken.   Our legal institutions are broken in terms of race and equity.  When it comes right down to it, white folks and folks of other races are not equal in the eyes of the law. So instead of a spectrum of less or more racist, I choose to state that the system is still racist. Stated simply, it will be racist until it is not.  "Almost not racist" has made us lazy.

But even if folks still want to use the shifting spectrum of racism, who says its even that much better? Even with the light skin privilege I carry, I have still felt the sting of the unjust, unequal legal system.

For example:  One night I was standing with my husband (then boyfriend) at a bus stop. Two police officers stopped their car to "talk" to me. My husband thought nothing of it, why would he? He has had a great relationship with police officers. But I knew better, I told my partner that they were coming to bug me.  Of course, my boyfriend didn't believe me. But they did get out, and they did ask me what I was doing, where I was going, if I had ID, what I was carrying in my backpack, why I was out so late, where did I live... All of which I complied with, and answered with a lot of "yessirs," and "no sirs."  My companion asked the officers why they were so interested in me (something I would have never asked myself.) Their answer was because I fit the description of a "drug dealer and prostitute" that was seen in the area.   I knew who they were looking for, we had gone to school together.  I looked nothing like her.  She was tall and thin. The one thing we did have in common was our race.

When I told friends this story, they had many excuses- the cops were doing their job, they were being through, how could I be sure that it was about my race, and my favourite-- I should be happy they were doing their job so well! But that wasn't the last time that happened. I was suspected of a crime I didn't and couldn't have committed.  I've been followed and harassed by cops.  And every time, some of my white friends would tell me I was over reacting.   I couldn't possibly know that my race had anything to do with it.

But I do know that my race has everything to do with my interactions with the police.  Each time I had a problem, there had been reported and documented cases of my local police using racial profiling.  This is what Zimmerman did;  he profiled racially and reacted.  Why would the legal system convict a man for using one of their own practices?   

For North American society, racist inequality is ingrained in all of our institutions.  Law, (as evidenced most recently by the Trayvon Martin case;) education (we need a Black History month to help people remember to add us into the story;) media (that Cheerios commercial debacle, Paula Deen, there's a lot.)  Its everywhere.  Every institution tells me that my life is not worth the same as a white person's life.  And unfortunately, black folks have learned to live with that.  I've learned to live with that.

But I shouldn't live with that.  But the fight for racial equality seems insurmountable when I am constantly being told that its not that bad.  Trayvon Martin is dead.  It is that bad.

Two Halves

(The title of this blog post comes from the title of one of my favorite songs by awesome folk musician Pamela Means.  Love her.)

I came across some racist graffiti on my way home.  Its funny to have it in my face like that, because its something I don't see all the time.  But I do think about my racial identity a lot.  Seemingly innocuous situations thrust it into my front brain all the time.  Things as simple as what hair products I should and can use, or how difficult it is to find make-up to suit my skin tone (which is why I don't really wear any.)

Racially speaking, I am comprised of two halves.

On the one sides, I come from a resourceful Hungarian family who was able to escape Austro-Hungary before it fell to communism in 1956.

On the other side, I belong to a strong and resilient Black family from the American South; a family who survived and thrived through one of the ugliest parts of U.S. history.

I understand all too well how someone can inhabit two racial identities.  The existence is often tenuous.  

The tension comes from several members of both racial groups that try to remind me that because I belong to both racial groups, I cannot truly belong to either race.

On the one side: A Neo-Nazi assaulted me almost two years ago in a busy train station in Toronto.  I was defending an elderly Black woman against their slurs.  For that, I was punched in the face, kicked in the side and spit on.  For good measure, he called me a "filthy" N-Word, as if I wouldn't have know why I got that beating.  No one helped me.  Some commented that I should have minded my own business.  (Side note:  When I told people what happened, the common response was this it was "unbelievable."  What is unbelievable about racism and hatred?  It happened every day.  I was so angry by these responses.)

On the other side: When I was a student, I was awarded a scholarship by a cultural group to which I belonged.  I ran out of the ceremony weeping being some of the other winners complain about my receiving the same award as they did.  I didn't deserve it because I wasn't "Black enough."

To confront this tension, I have lived my life asserting and self-identifying myself as a Black woman.  I am closer to members of my family in the South, 2000 miles away from me, than I am with the Hungarian part of my family that live 30 miles away.  And with my afro hair, and dark features, it has worked for me as a way to feel like I belong somewhere.

But of course, race is not that simple.  I am both Black and White.  I should not have to choose with which race I more identify.  Will society catch up with understanding the complexities of people, instead of  the simplistic, dated understanding of race?  When do I get to celebrate both halves of my racial identity without needed explanations?  When will my race cease to be a guessing game for ignorant strangers?  When do we start talking about the stupidity of racialized categories?  

Graffiti like this makes me think, that we still have a long way to go in terms of thinking and talking about race.  As a multi-racial person, I  exist, and I'm not  going anywhere.  As Black feminist Audre Lorde once said, "Here I am.  Deal with me."