February 8, 2007
'Covert racism shows up everywhere, when you least expect it'
By Nadine McNeil
A recurring question for me prompts this discourse: what am I? Female, black, both or neither?Seemingly, the answer is obvious.But is it really?
When I enter a room, what does one see 'first,' my race or my gender? My initial response is that I am identified and oftentimes subsequently defined by the color of my skin.
Another frequent observation is the unwillingness by human beings to openly discuss the issue of race amongst ourselves as well as across borders. For example, it has been my experience that black folk of the lighter persuasion are reluctant to admit the 'one uppance' that a 'li'l milk' gives them. Is this due to the illusion of white privilege and the taste of power that is 'enjoyed' as a consequence? Or is it because this enjoyment is complex and bittersweet given that the very lightness that they may enjoy in one community of which they are a product is rejected in another of which they are also part and parcel?
When I have attempted to engage white folk in a discussion about race, the 'reflex reaction' is one of appalling defense -- 'I wasn't around when slavery was taking place so why should I now be held responsible?' In the words of Joy DuGry Leary, author of Post Traumatic Slavery Syndrome, '[do] you think I was?'
In recent times, I have been afforded the position of witnessing leaders (all male) from first world nations echoing apologies for the slave trade and even a few leaders mentioned the holocaustic intergenerational aftermath. Again the victim (most often female and a person of color) or the victim's children's children are forced to forgive with the ultimatum: If humanity is to move forward then we have little alternative but to believe that their apologies are heartfelt and sincere. Rather than resolve, doesn't this 'gloss over' and further perpetuate the slave mentality and victim-hood?
Viewing my black sisters in Sierra Leone whose limbs and ears were sliced off by insurgents, rebels' forced pregnancy and rape a normal occurrence, and their off-spring doped up into being child soldiers, their perpetrators were given amnesty and vocational training while the women, victims of cruel and inhumane atrocities languished in poverty in their enforced forgiveness campaign by the Sierra Leone government.
These abhorrent acts were carried out so that 'lovely little white girls' [in America and elsewhere] could wear diamond rings. At the same time the origin of diamonds excavated from African soil do not grace women of color due to poverty, slavery and violence perpetrated over Africa's natural resource. In this era of [so called] civilisation, Belgian colonizers rape the African land of her jewels and the people of their dignity all for their own greed.
Only we -- the Black Diaspora -- can release our ancestral shame if we are to heal our intergenerational trauma and wounds caused by being enslaved. The first step in this release comes from sharing -- amongst ourselves and along with others.
Healing occurs once we have embraced the hurt, the anger, the rejection, the brutality, the disappointment, the rape, the murders and the lynchings. Facing reality such as these overt actions through many centuries which continue to be covertly dumped in present day is a necessary brutality and life experience within the Black Diaspora.
Covert racism shows up everywhere, and oftentimes when you least expect it.
Through the brutal reality of my own Black Jamaican female life experiences I recognized my yearnings and longings are a path and creed from which to propel away from black slavery, not to entrench the slave/victim mentality.
I long for the day when I am able to enter a bank and not be thrown 'off center' by a clerk perhaps with less than a quarter of my educational background and professional experience treating me as though I am her subordinate.
I long for the day that when I show my credentials on paper, I am not forced to bear witness in person to their discomfort because my profile doesn't match their stereotype.
I long for the day when I board and aircraft and 'coincidentally' find that all people of colour have been seated in a defined area within the aircraft. I long for the day when,
'A colour of a [person's] skin is of no more significance than the colour of his eyes. And until the basic human rights are equally guaranteed to all without regard to race… And until that day, a world of lasting peace will remain but a fleeting illusion to be pursued but never attained.' ('War,' written by H.I.M. Emperor Haile Selassie, disseminated by Universal Legend, Bob Marley)
What's worse about covert racism is that when we do choose to voice it as 'glaring examples' to our white colleagues, friends, peers, our experiences are frequently invalidated with such comments as: 'Are you sure s/he said or did this or that? Perhaps they were having a bad day.'
Such comments intended -- oftentimes with the best of sincerity -- to make us feel better -- have the direct opposite effect of patronage and are lethal weapons perpetuating white supremacy. Unconsciousness of their white privilege and entitlement affords a position of 'power over' even in these small actions and responses.
When 'whites' describe the Irish as being 'the blacks of Europe,' at face value the statement is intended to display some sort of empathy for my plight. Unconscious white privilege starts to acknowledge the 'power over' hierarchy present in white supremacy that impacts them directly and it is exploitive to expect empathy and any relationship to people of color racial issues.
At a deeper level, relating whites designated as 'blacks' is actually insensitive and again stems from white racist supremacy. Unlike me whose ethnicity is abundantly clear upon sight, the Irish are identified and defined only once they open their mouths. For a period, white Irish people are afforded the white privilege and can choose to be immersed in it until they speak.
This further perpetuates racist socialization that endorses me to be someone who I in fact mightn't be; i.e., a [stereo] typical black female -- single mother, with multiple partners, drug addict, prostitute, maid, HIV/AIDS carrier, entertainer, athlete. And given that I represent part of the Diaspora defying this stereotype, 'she must be 'super smart!'
In an intricate exchange with Danica Anderson, executive director, The Kolo: Women's Cross Cultural Collaboration, we candidly shared about the impact of white supremacy. Anderson's work in Bosnia with the frontline women as well as in Africa, India and Sri Lanka prompted her painful look at white supremacy issues.
'Like the issue of gender along socio-cultural lines, the racial divide will not be bridged until humanity is willing to embrace and honor diversity,' she strongly feels.
The 'white supremacy blindspot' continues to perpetuate, highlighted in the US without meaningful dialogue among blacks and whites about the issue of race, and continues intergenerationally.
In Jamaica, I was brought up being told we are objects of class prejudice. When I went to live in the United States I experienced racism first hand. The racism I felt was blatant, yet subtle -- like when I'd walk onto the subway and a white person would clutch their purse a tad tighter.
Of her childhood days in Chicago, Anderson recounts that her father, a violent Bosnian patriarch, made so many racist comments about Blacks. 'Many of the references were the famous N__ word. I grew up to mouth the hatred against Blacks, Hispanics- Spics who were Puerto Rican and especially the Croatians who, according to my father were responsible for the WWII Genocide of Serbs.'
Even where there is solidarity amongst women, there is a fine point at which this 'sisterhood' diverges.
'White women are treated differently and differentially. It is mind-boggling how quickly white supremacy rushes past the skin color into the psyche. It is embattled on an overt and covert basis to the point where I as a white female cannot even recognize my privileged life,' says Anderson.
White supremacy forges on with ruling leaders irrespective of skin color. Subtle and overt indoctrination driven from a need to be at the top of the white pyramid at the expense of humanity triggers their survivor mechanisms into overdrive, resulting in our modern age super genocidal chapters.
Black men are behind bars at alarming rates and [heterosexual] women of color between the ages of 25 and 44 years old are among the fastest growing HIV/AIDS rates in the United States of America. And yet we have failed to engage each other in meaningful dialogue.
Racial paralysis now threatens to render us mute.
Nadine McNeil is a global free-lance non-fiction writer who is presently living and working in Jakarta, Indonesia.