Sometimes, I let down my guard and forget how deeply entrenched the distorted story of African Americans is in this country. As Chimamanda Adichie says in her TED talk, a single story about anything is dangerous.
And the election of our first black president hasn't altered that single story a bit for many Americans, even those who voted for President Obama. Twice. I got an unexpected reminder of that yesterday which disturbed me and my sleep last night.
A sweet, friendly, older white woman (I'll call her Ingrid), whom I run into periodically and we occasionally chat, stopped me yesterday. She had bought a copy of my essay collection, Not All Poor People, Are Black and read it! She wanted to talk about my book. Then this woman whom I don't know well, but do know that she's a fan of President Obama and is supportive of him and many of his policies, reminded me of that pervasive single story about blacks.
Ingrid is a pleasant, seemingly intelligent woman; I've never felt a whiff of condescension from her. She appears to be healthy and happy with her life. So when she wanted to talk about my book, I anticipated an interesting discussion.
Ingrid wanted me to know how sad the book made her. This startled me a bit because I've received several comments about the book, but had never heard that one. However, the book includes a variety of essays and, of course, each person brings her/his own experiences to what they read.
Then she told me a bit about herself: she grew up without knowing or ever seeing a black person. She first laid eyes on one of us when she was 17. Ingrid further explained that she's lived in several cities in different parts of the country, and she named them for me. The ones I remember are Austin, TX; Madison, WI; Ann Arbor, MI and she now lives in Bloomington, IN. (I believe all the places she named were college towns.) And she said, indicating that suddenly things have gotten worse, not once in any of these places did she ever hear of any racial upheavals.
I sighed and responded, "Because you didn't hear of them doesn't mean they didn't happen." She nodded her head, but I doubt that she "heard" what I said. Ingrid also wanted to know why blacks are so angry and react "so violently" when something happens. (I thought I had spelled that out several times and in a variety of ways in my book.) The thought of trying to explain what was wrong with her question so thoroughly exhausted me that I simply reminded her that the violence usually begins with the police killing a black person. I also pointed out that after hundreds of years of being enslaved and oppressed, people reach a point of not being able to take any more without fighting back as best they can.
Then she asked, "But don't you think that the Africans who came here are better off...aren't you better off than you would be if you were still in Africa where things are so bad?"
Somehow, I remained calm. First I reminded her that we did not come here like her ancestors had. (I thought this was common knowledge, but decided not to let it go uncorrected.) I reminded her that we were captured and brought over in chains, except for those whose bones are now scattered at the bottom of the Atlantic.
I also needed to refute her single story about Africa. I asked her, "Who knows what the continent of Africa would be like today if 60 million people and much of their natural resources had not been drained off to build and enrich Europe and America?"
"Sixty million? Really? I had no idea it was that many."
"Nobody knows the exact number, but the Slave Trade went on for about 500 years, and scholars have estimated that 12 million Africans were removed each year."
Ingrid would never wave a Confederate flag, or be less
than polite to any person, no matter their color. She undoubtedly would
adamantly deny that she's ever had a racist thought. Yet she thinks that I should be grateful my ancestors were captured and enslaved; otherwise I would still (horror of horrors) be in AFRICA!
I was restless as I tried to sleep last night because I realized how absolutely weary I am of trying to get American whites not to accept the story they are told repeatedly about Africa and African Americans. It feels like a Sisyphean punishment. Why would whites (and many blacks) believe me when throughout their lives everything they read, see on television and are taught keeps telling them the opposite of what I have to say? Besides, how could I possibly be "objective"?
And yes, I recognize that not all whites subscribe to the single story, but more of them do than not. For examples, see David Brooks on Ta-Nehisi Coates' book, Between the World and Me. See an Iraq War veteran killed by jail guards in Texas. Also see people waving Confederate flags--a historic symbol of treason and a recent symbol of hatred for blacks--to greet the President of the United States.
I'm trying to cling to my optimism and keep my heart open, but when will it end? I am really tired of this.
5 comments:
I see why you are tired. We white people need to do a WAY better job speaking up to our friends, neighbors, colleagues and relatives about this. We need to educate ourselves, educate ourselves more, and then use our minds, bodies, voices, and resources to dismantle this racist police state we are living in.
I just happened on this. And when I read it I thought, "Yes! Yes! This is what almost no white person will admit to or are too stupid to see."
I am white so I am probably clueless to a lot. I grew up in Colorado. There were no black families in our neighborhood and no black children in my school. My friends at other, bigger schools said that it was always tense between the different kids - Hispanics, black kids, and white kids.
My father was retired military and I spent a lot of time on military bases. It was very common in the '60s to see black soldiers with white European wives. I never thought anything about it until my white relatives from the south came to visit. They were scandalized. Their verbal hate was shocking.
Both my parents were from the south, and both had their prejudices. But they knew intellectually that it was wrong. They did my sister and me the biggest favor of never showing any of those feelings to us. Years later when my mom is in her 70s we have a screaming fight over her sentence, "Not all black slaves were mistreated." The ignorance of this almost dumfounds me.
Fast forward to my early 20s when I move to a small town in Texas to work on a horse farm. There are Civil War statues EVERYWHERE! I'm dumfounded. What is this?? I've never seen anything glorifying the Civil War in my life. All the African Americans are very quiet and subservient. They call me "Miss." Again I am unsettled by the whole atmosphere.
Not knowing any different I shop anywhere there is a store and I get gas at any gas station. The looks I get when I go to a "black" store is very clear. "What is this young white woman doing at this store?"
Fast forward again when I am in my 40s and my husband and I move to Marietta Georgia. CULTURE SHOCK! The air of hostility is thick anywhere there is a mix of blacks and whites. I don't dare even compliment a pretty black child in an elevator. I would never think of getting gas at a station in a black neighborhood.
Our neighbors are an elderly white couple. They use words like "wood chucker," and other racial slurs. My husband and I have a tactic we use at such times. We act like we don't know what the term means and ask them to explain it. They are embarrassed to have to verbally explain such a hateful expression. They are embarrassed that we aren't automatically in the same ideological club that they are. They soon stop speaking in that way to us.
More scandal - I mow the lawn on Sunday. We cart watermelons home by the bucket. But I hate living there. A black family moves into this upper middle class neighborhood and there is talk all over about falling housing prices. It seems to me that they are a very nice family. The newspaper has articles about burning crosses. I hate living there.
I end up moving to Florida 1997. I rented a house in a fairly poor mixed neighborhood. I ended up buying the house and have been here 18 years. I've never had much trouble - a break in by a drug addict my first year - but nothing since.
In the first year here there is a black child hit and killed by the son of a prominent family. The family helped the boy flee the country. Almost a year later a deal is done to bring the boy back and not charge the father for aiding and abetting.
There was a trial. The son has had several DUIs but that information is excluded from the trial. The defendant's alcohol level is way above the legal limit. But there is some weird defense about him using some medication that inhibits the metabolism of the alcohol. The son testifies that the black child was playing cat and mouse with him and he accidentally hit him. The whole thing sounds so preposterous to me I am sure he will be convicted. He is not. At that moment I said to my friend, "Black lives don't matter in the south. They will do anything to save the white one."
Little did I realize that black lives don't matter anywhere in the US. It isn't just the south.
Cont.
I live in a town that had a big march 2 weeks ago to keep the Confederate flag flying. I am ashamed and embarrassed by this. In today's paper an article said that a business that was considering coming here has backed out because of the Confederate flag. So it will take money to make them consider taking it down and not because it is the right thing to do, and long overdue.
Racism is buried under this thin veneer of civility. That is why the least little thing brings it out in full view. Yet it is still denied.
Thank you to all who responded to my impatience with racism. It is encouraging to know that some folks "get it."
I'd like to thank both of you, Lady Griot and Sainbury, for lowering my blood pressure today with your writings.
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