Monday, October 20, 2008

privilege & silence / guilt as a spiritual practice

Today, PSR's Dismantling Racism Coordinator asked me to attend a session with our Board of Trustees, where a white anti-racism trainer (Francie Kendall) led them through an exercise to build awareness about white privilege at our school. I had attended the trainer's session with students a couple weeks ago, and it was eye-opening in some ways, and in other ways it confirmed things I already knew. At the student conversation, I noticed how easy it is for white people to talk about everything else besides racism (so several talked about physical access to buildings, for example, instead of talking about how racism gets built into the structures and creates "structured blindness" to oppression). I didn't say anything then, and I promised myself I'd say something the next time it came up. At the Trustees' meeting, I remained silent again, even when I noticed that explicit mention of race barely happened - many participants simply referred to it without name, or talked about "unwelcoming" or "power" without drawing the connections to racial justice. It was an example of Francie Kendall's concept of structured blindness or structured sidestepping the issue at hand. And again I said nothing - I disappointed myself. Debriefing with my partner and later with Emily, I know that I'm in a learning process, and that next time I will have more motivation to practice sharing what I observe (and know to be true). As Emily pointed out, guilt works to my advantage in this case, because it motivates me to action.
It reminds me of my work talking about male privilege and sexism. It's hard to "develop a backbone" (thanks to Megan Dowdell by way of Emily), and it usually happens in little ways. Guilt also works to motivate in a larger sense - just I was motivated by my concern that I could be seen as a potential rapist or sexual assaulter to a woman who doesn't know me, I could also be a potential harasser and white supremacist (or insulting white liberal do-gooder!) to a person of color who doesn't know me (and, frankly, to a lot of white people who are looking for allies in white supremacy or white liberal do-gooding). So it's my responsibility to change the tide. My creative writing teacher in college (a Black woman poet) wrote a poem called "Unlearning Not to Speak" about trying to overcome the cultural messages that kept her silent. Corresponding to her learning, I had to Learn Not to Speak. And now I have to learn how to speak again, with my new consciousness. And to ask others to hold me accountable to doing this.
Will you join me?

1 comment:

Unknown said...

I will so so so join! Join you and all the others...

You know, I've been thinking about this ever since you called. Silence was a personal stumbling block during my time at PSR also. I didn't want to talk about race b/c i didn't know what to "do" with it. Racial preducide and white supremacy reach so deep into the fabric of American existence that I often feel like tapping into them explicitly is like pouring salt into an already-infected wound. But it's actually the opposite! White silence is how the wound manifests. I've also been taught (more props to Dowdell) that my sense of having to "do" something about racism is part of white supremacist culture. It's not that I think one should sit idly by while racist behavior resumes around us, but the constant need to fix, clean, heal, whatever--well that's a way for me to avoid looking racism in the face. If I launch into fix it mode then I don't have to notice for too long, don't have to mourn, don't have to identify with it (which I do inevitably b/c I'm white). I get to "tend" to the externalized (notice NOT internal) issue and become the hero. I've found "naming" more important than doing. (And even naming can be tricky b/c in the naming process I get attached to the meaning of words, when there's a possibility that there's no language to describe what's at play.) Instead of automatically launching into action, I try to name the situation in a supportive community with ppl who will either a) confirm what I see or b) call me on my misperception and explore with me--gently and courageously--why that perception exists. It's important to have as much diversity in the supportive community as possible b/c perception is rooted in experience and cross-cultural experience, like gendered experience or religious experiences or immigrant experiences exist in particularity and therefore possesses specific knowledges of importance. If in the naming and discovering process with my community I discover ethical ways of acting toward justice, i do it. I am not gauranteed that my actions will be well received or that they are "right." If I get new information as a consequence of my action, I try to integrate my learning and open to the world again. These lessons have come the hard way: I didn't name racism (among many many other things) in Senior Seminar and I haven't released the guilt of that to date.

PSR is particularly difficult. I hope some of the new initiatives on dismantling racism and building cross cultural competency bring a new culture of racial dialogue on campus b/c my experience there sucked. It wasn't until Marquita stepped on campus and I found the White ID group (in May of my last semester!!!) that I could really explore the depths of how racial privilege was affecting my relationships, outlooks, ideas, behaviors, etc. I understand that there's lots of hurt, lots of untended and justified anger, but beating people up emotionally doesn't inspire them to change. White ppl do need to feel the pain of racism, do need to feel the discomfort their privilege has caused, but feeling those feelings makes most sense when those feelings can be channeled for positive change. Other wise we just sit around licking our wounds and focusing on ourselves, which is white self-centeredness...another element of white supremacy! When people are defensive and shut down, they are just that, defensive and shut down. No bueno.

Shifting gears...
There's a difficulty here that one can make various parallels to in the gender, sexuality categories: post-modernism and post-structuralism's luring us into the ideology that race/gender/sexuality/etc are "social constructions" and therefore unable to be spoken about in any "essential" terms. I am always aware whenever I open my mouth about race that I am in danger of associating "natural categories" to identities or identities to what I perceive as "natural categories." I get caught up in fear that I will associate in belittling ways or unrealistic ways, so I say nothing. Here we are back at silence. This can often be the white academic's hiding game. "It's just a social construction. It's not real, so why even bring it up?" Exactly because it's a social construction--that's why we bring it up. We acknowledge that realities are constructed because of our socialization processes and that real lives and real bodies thrive and/or suffer as a result. We name that. But perhaps more important than naming...I need to listen. (Great chapter in "Dismantling White Supremacy from Within" called "To hear and be accountable: An ethic of white listening" by Aana Marie Vigen. Again: Dowdell :)

There are social constructions that fabric realities for black males in Oakland. There are social constructions that fabric realities for poor women on 16th and Mission. I know a whole lot less about those social constructions than the persons living into and out of them. So I ask to hear the stories. Right now I'm listening to personal stories about war because I got sick of hearing my own stories about war when I'd never lived it. I digress, sorry. When I ask to hear about the stories of racism I cannot help but be effected. Being effected is the beginning. I'm a little less likely to perpetuate the same bullshit, and a bit more willing to stick my neck out as an ally. It's not "dismantling racism" but it's a start...

So here's one thing I'd like to mention: I'm sick of walking into IDT meetings at the hospital where all the white coat doctors, social workers, therapists and chaplains are white skinned while our patients are not. That's not effective health care. I wonder what differences in assessments there would be if more cultural, linguistic and racial diversity existed in the hospital. What do we miss? What do our patients need that we don't see? White supremacy is failing them. That's the truth.