{"id":"5f1602c66cee07000709d65c","slug":"so-you-want-to-talk-about-race-en","title":"So You Want to Talk About Race","audio_url":"https://hls.blinkist.io/bibs/5f1602c66cee07000709d65c/5f1602c66cee07000709d65e-T1595278522.m4a?Expires=1656848889&Signature=DV1bYWi8wkRvVuxHoPGERQjYgt4ixlpAR43DRb7eh9tbk12dqFAgmNTHlFb5ftoFUtAVwg8JxYzHNHjKwLsphHrMV3NpHo~bffJkuYNP6hxNGkD9F3yDafjYWZhcEaL-pr3wuGMRIFEoiwg4USsQjzLBFWhrqIaBvgIHlZLU1n542boqmhvClrgtncWxPV-NPTRwwvK0qqi6Ef70ZJTr2m~vFlKf9O6AQNGvyyzThW8bhHKIy2-VhfYvJkkzH0gUwcnaHvukHL1JpYNKMd3X0xstjCjGNQ7qQdSCcvTKZTktC9su9ZRqgvJUksyppBhnAPZEqkiXkbjf4c4P4ICcTQ__&Key-Pair-Id=APKAJXJM6BB7FFZXUB4A","chapters":[{"id":"5f1602c66cee07000709d65e","title":"Racism is inextricably woven into – and reinforced by – systems of power.","text":"

After Donald Trump was elected president in 2016, many people speculated that the Democratic Party had lost because America’s societal problem was about class, not race. They felt the Left had been too focused on the needs of Black people, Latinx people, women in general, and trans people while leaving out working class white men. If you improved things for the lower classes, they argued, things would improve for minorities.

Author Ijeoma Oluo found herself exhausted from constantly having this debate – after all, the injustices that keep an able-bodied Black woman poor are not the same as those that keep a disabled white man poor. So she started directly asking people: “Why do you think Black people are poor? Do you think it’s for the same reasons white people are poor?”

The truth is, race is one of the largest variables determining your success in the United States – a point that often goes unacknowledged.

The key message here is: Racism is inextricably woven into – and reinforced by – systems of power.

Today, more than half a century after the civil rights movement, the racial wealth gap is just as large. This is no accident; racism was built into the US economic system. It has long justified white supremacy, which offers those deemed superior the promise that “you will get more because they exist to get less.”

This promise can’t be undone purely by addressing class, so we need to start talking about race. But often, the first hurdle to clear is the question of whether or not something is in fact about race.

To begin, consider these three points:

First, if a person of color thinks it’s about race, it is. Their racial identity is a part of them, and it’s interacting with the situation.

Second, if it affects people of color differently or disproportionately, it’s about race.Finally, if it fits into a larger pattern that differently or disproportionately affects people of color, it’s about race.

Before we continue, it’s helpful to establish a clear definition of racism. Two common ones are: “any prejudice against someone because of their race” and “any prejudice against someone because of their race, when those views are reinforced by systems of power.”

The second definition is more applicable here because, in the United States, racism is typically reduced to the actions of the individual. “How so?” you may wonder. Well, in an environment where racism is systemic, its maintenance is fueled by the complacency of individuals. And so the only way to fight systemic oppression is by personally, actively dismantling it.

"},{"id":"5f1602c76cee07000709d65f","title":"Having uncomfortable conversations about race is a necessary first step toward progress.","text":"

Oluo was 34 the first time she had a serious conversation about race with her mother, who is white. Her mom explained that she’d told her coworkers a joke with a “Black punchline.” One of them – a Black man – asked her, “What do you know about being Black?”

Oluo’s mother was angry at her coworker at first – after all, she had three Black children! But she restrained herself. She told Oluo that she intended to let him know that she understood where he was coming from because members of her own family were Black.

Oluo was mortified. At the same time, she knew that her mother wasn’t able to fully see or understand the racism that her children encountered. So that day, Oluo broke down the differences between being a white woman who has loved Black people, lived with Black people, and had children with a Black person, and actually being a Black person in a white supremacist society.

The key message here is: Having uncomfortable conversations about race is a necessary first step toward progress.

This conversation helped Oluo’s mother realize that rather than trying to prove she was “one of the good white people,” she should shift her focus to motivating other white people to do better. Armed with this lesson, her mother began organizing within her union to combat racial disenfranchisement in her workplace.

Even though it will be difficult, and you’re likely to mess up, talking about race is a fundamental step to take before advocating for racial justice. Here are some guidelines for how to approach the conversation:

First, state your intentions. That way, the other person can decide right away if this is a conversation they want to have. Don’t insist on a discussion about race if the other person doesn’t wish to engage.

Second, do your research. The onus is not on people of color to educate you on things a quick Google search could tell you.

Third, if you start feeling defensive, pause and ask yourself, “Has my priority shifted to protecting my ego?” Remember that the point of a conversation about race is not “winning” – it’s to share, learn, and do better.

Finally, don’t police your conversation partner’s tone. This is a point we’ll explore in more detail, later in these blinks.

These conversations will go wrong sometimes, but don’t try to force a resolution. Apologize, step away, and consider whether it’s possible to revisit the conversation in a productive way later.

Don’t amend the discussion in your mind as “the time you got yelled at for trying,” but don’t beat yourself up about it, either. Instead, take the time to really think about how you could have done better, and then commit to trying again.

"},{"id":"5f1602c76cee07000709d660","title":"We must examine our privilege and adopt intersectionality to stop personally perpetuating oppression.","text":"

A common phrase in social justice language that’s often met with an eye roll is “check your privilege.” Very few people actually know what privilege is, though – or how exactly they should go about “checking it.”

Checking your privilege means questioning when you receive benefits denied to others, even if that means giving up those benefits. It requires you to stop and consider not only how your perspective and actions have been shaped by the advantages you’ve had in life, but also the struggles you’ve avoided.

For example, if someone treats you as “intelligent” because you’re light-skinned, you ultimately benefit from the nonsensical suggestion that dark-skinned people aren’t. This is one aspect of a discriminatory practice called shadeism.

The key message here is: We must examine our privilege and adopt intersectionality to stop personally perpetuating oppression.

You can reflect on your privilege by sitting down and thinking about all of the advantages you’ve had in life. Are you cisgender? Nondisabled? Are you a documented citizen of the country you’re living in?

During this exercise, don’t list your disadvantages even if you can be considered “underprivileged” in other areas. Think about how your privilege has shaped your point of view – particularly how you understand political and social issues. Then educate yourself by seeking out work on these topics, compiled by people who don’t share your structural advantages.

When we check our privilege, we see how our identities carry different hierarchies and oppressions. After this happens, we can then adopt intersectionality: a holistic theory and practice that illuminates the way in which race and gender are interwoven to shape a person’s experience of the world. Originally coined in 1989 by civil rights activist Kimberlé Crenshaw, the term was an attempt to capture the ways in which the feminist movement left out the concerns and issues of women of color.

Without intersectionality, groups often fail to help all the individuals within the collective they claim to represent. Even social justice movements tend to prioritize the needs of the group’s most privileged members.

You can incorporate intersectionality into conversations about race by first asking yourself, “Could our differences in identity be contributing to our differences of opinion or point of view?” Following that, ask yourself, “Am I listening to people who have had different experiences than mine?”

Before you have this conversation, though, keep in mind that you may need to explain intersectionality in order to prioritize it in discussions of race and social justice. Remember that without intersectionality, efforts to improve society can actually make things more exclusionary and oppressive for some people.

"},{"id":"5f1602c76cee07000709d661","title":"Implicit bias informs policing in the US; to effect change, we need to cultivate trust.","text":"

In 2015, Oluo was driving with her two brothers when a cop pulled her over for being 1 mph over the speed limit. Witnesses are the main defense Black people have against police brutality, so Oluo fearfully tweeted, “Just got pulled over for driving while Black. Here’s hoping I get out of it safely.”

In the end, she was only issued a ticket – but in response to the tweet, she received a flood of messages. These ranged from people sharing their own stories of “driving while Black” to others questioning why she assumed it was about race in the first place.

While difficult to prove racist intent on an individual level, statistics show that Black drivers are 23 percent more likely to be pulled over than white drivers. They’re also more likely to be searched, ticketed, and arrested. This increased likelihood of interaction results in a 3.5 to 4 times higher probability that Black people – and also Native Americans – will be killed by police.

The key message here is: Implicit bias informs policing in the US; to effect change, we need to cultivate trust.

Throughout US history, police have disproportionately brutalized people of color. The American police force has viewed Black Americans as the enemy, which has been expressed in several policies and acts targeting those communities. For example, the country’s first police force, the Night Patrols, was specifically created to control Black and Native American people – and to catch those escaping from slavery.

Later, in the post-Reconstruction South, local police officers contributed to the terrorization and murder of Black Americans; during the Jim Crow era and the civil rights movement, many were members of the Ku Klux Klan. Today, Black and Native Americans, as well as Hispanic Americans, continue to bear the brunt of police abuse. This has resulted in a widespread and deadly implicit bias – a system of unexamined beliefs that influence one’s actions. Politicians and popular culture have also historically characterized Black people as “black brutes” and “superpredators,” bolstering the racist notion that Black individuals are dangerous, violent, and unworthy of protection.

Implicit bias informs the actions of police officers, especially in high-stress situations. They say they “fear for their lives” when they shoot unarmed Black men – which may be true. But to believe that Black men are a mortal threat is an unfounded and racist sentiment. The situation is made worse still by the fact that Black people and people of color simply don’t trust the police because cops are more likely to abuse their power, or use force against them without ever having to face the consequences of their actions.

While it may be true that there is a higher rate of crime in cities with larger minority populations, this is often because, simply put, crimes are more likely to be perpetrated in impoverished communities – regardless of race. And in the United States, communities of color are more prone to being economically disadvantaged. It’s abundantly clear that heavy policing doesn’t prevent crime; more jobs, better infrastructure, and increased funding for education do.

White people must believe that Black people and people of color are not fabricating their experiences with the police – and then demand justice and real change.

"},{"id":"5f1602c76cee07000709d662","title":"Expanded affirmative action can mitigate some of the impact of historical oppression. ","text":"

In order to succeed in our society, marginalized people must clear hurdles unimaginable to others. Oluo experienced this firsthand, growing up poor and attending underfunded schools.

When she overcame the challenges those disadvantages brought and got her first job after college, Oluo volunteered for special projects and worked overtime without pay to learn new skills. Her supervisor acknowledged her efforts with a promotion – but then abruptly rescinded it. Strange.

Well, it wasn’t long before Oluo discovered that a white woman who’d been with the company longer had expected the promotion and threatened to sue, claiming Oluo was only promoted because she was Black. Eventually, Oluo received her promotion. But the more she advanced in her career, the more she was disturbed to find herself to be the only woman of color in the room.

The key message here is: Expanded affirmative action can mitigate some of the impact of historical oppression.

Systemic change is the only way to ensure that people of color don’t need to “beat the odds” in order to thrive. One of the ways we can tackle this is through affirmative action.

Introduced in the 1960s, affirmative action was implemented to address the severe racial inequalities in higher education and federal employment for African-American men and women across the spectrum. It sought to increase recruitment efforts for these demographics, and to give them extra consideration. This measure has, however, eroded significantly since Reagan’s presidency; his conservative administration – and others that followed – deemed it unnecessary.

But discrimination and inequality have persisted, and with today’s problematic wage gap there is a clear case for affirmative action. For example, Black women only receive 65 cents for every dollar a white man earns. Hispanic women earn even less at 58 cents on the dollar.

To add to this, the US school system is fraught with inequity. A Yale study showed that preschool teachers are more inclined to look for problem behavior in Black children and lack empathy for children of a different race, which has resulted in a higher frequency of suspensions and expulsions of Black students. On top of that, children of color are more likely to attend underfunded schools, meaning they are denied access to basic learning resources. So, by the time they apply for college, these students are glaringly disadvantaged in comparison to their white peers.

The ultimate objective of affirmative action is to address the systemic issues that create and maintain gaps in representation and opportunity. If 10 percent of the local population is Black, for example, the goal is to reflect that and have around 10 percent Black students or employees. Equal and fair representation and opportunity can go a long way in closing the social and economic gaps in the United States.

"},{"id":"5f1602c76cee07000709d663","title":"Punitive practices that target students of color are a major contributor in the school-to-prison pipeline.","text":"

Oluo’s brother Aham wasn’t as lucky as she was in school. As an emotional and energetic child, he was targeted by teachers who misinterpreted his energy as aggression. After one teacher implemented a misguided classroom reward system that required students to “pay rent” on their desks, Aham – who was constantly being disciplined for his bursts of energy – couldn’t “afford” it. So he sat on the floor, and the other students taunted him. At school, he became known as “the homeless kid.”

Perhaps the teacher didn’t know Aham had actually been homeless at times. But after this episode, he didn’t make friends for years, had daily panic attacks, and eventually dropped out of high school.

Fortunately, music is what eventually saved him. It gave him the necessary focus, which allowed him to easily pass his GED and ultimately receive a scholarship to music school. But the unfair punishment he was subjected to as a young student derailed him in his early years.

The key message here is: Punitive practices that target students of color are a major contributor in the school-to-prison pipeline.

Studies show that the racial bias of administrators and school employees influences disciplinary tactics – and the overly punitive measures taken to punish students of color disproportionately results in their imprisonment after leaving the US school system. This is referred to as the school-to-prison pipeline.

It begins with suspensions and expulsions. Psychologists assert that these measures erode children’s trust in both teachers and school, and their self-esteem suffers. How severely children are punished is shown to be positively correlated with the number of Black students in a school, rather than with more probable causes for harsh punishments like drug offenses. Furthermore, Black children are more likely to be suspended with a subjective justification – like being “disrespectful” – whereas white children are suspended for verifiable reasons like violence or drugs.

In part, the school-to-prison pipeline accounts for why one in three Black men and one in six Hispanic men are incarcerated in their lifetimes. The rate of incarceration is higher for women of color, too.

So what can you do personally to address and confront this problem? Well, you can start by talking to your schools and school boards. Ask what their disciplinary methods are, along with their rate of suspension and expulsion for Black and Latinx students. Then ask about the racial “opportunity gap” – the academic disparity present in graduation rates, testing scores, and grades – and what the school’s plan is to combat it.

Finally, challenge white-centric education, which focuses on the needs of white children, teaches white culture, and is mostly taught by white teachers. We must demand a more inclusive curriculum that does not criminalize and fail our students of color.

"},{"id":"5f1602c76cee07000709d664","title":"The n-word, cultural appropriation, and microaggressions are all tools of oppression.","text":"

Many people don’t understand why they shouldn’t use the n-word. A central, flawed argument on the topic asks: “Since many Black people use it, why can’t people of other races do so, too?”

A foundational response to this question is that all oppression begins with words. Language is how we process the world, and from the 1700s on, the n-word was used as a slur to dehumanize and express hatred of Black people. It was shouted at enslaved people, it was uttered when people spat at lynched Black bodies, and it helped establish and perpetuate oppression and inequality.

Today, though Black people may choose to “reclaim” it, the cruel and painful history of the word is invoked when used by white people.

The key message here is: The n-word, cultural appropriation, and microaggressions are all tools of oppression.

A lot of folks are also irritated by the claim that cultural appropriation harms people of color. It’s a complicated concept, and it can be hard to know what’s offensive to others in a diverse world. In basic terms, cultural appropriation is when a more dominant culture exploits an oppressed culture by adopting their practices, customs, and ideas. Think “ethnic” Halloween costumes or wearing a bindi as an accessory.

Ultimately, the problem lies in the power imbalance. If a dominant culture tweaks a piece of culture and profits from its appropriation while those living in that culture continue to be abused, this is exploitative.

Likewise, when racial microaggressions are wielded, they normalize casual racism. Microaggressions are constant, small insults and indignities lodged at people of a marginalized or oppressed group. They reinforce the notion that someone is “less-than,” or that they don’t belong.

Two examples of microaggressions are saying things like, “Wow, you speak English really well!” and “You’re so exotic.” But microaggressions aren’t always expressed in words; touching a Black person’s hair without express permission or consent is another example. This disrespectful act suggests that you don’t see their body as their own, and that you have the right to ignore their boundaries and autonomy.

The cumulative impact of microaggressions is severe. But since they’re viewed as “small,” relative to more overt expressions of racism, they are often dismissed or explained away.

If you experience a microaggression, protect your mental well-being by addressing it directly. Ask why the person perpetrated the microaggression. This will prompt them to interrogate their motives and reflect on the impact of their actions. Let them know you are offended, and that they should stop if they don’t wish to continue offending people of color in this way.

If you're the person being called out, pause and consider why you took that action. Was it in response to feeling threatened or uncomfortable? Really interrogate the source of your microaggression. And, most importantly, apologize – even if you don’t fully understand how you were offensive. Then do your research to find out why.

"},{"id":"5f1602c76cee07000709d665","title":"Tone-policing and the “model minority” myth harm the struggle toward equality and justice.","text":"

In school and popular culture, Americans are taught that there are two ways to approach the struggle for racial justice: the “nonviolent” approach favored by leaders like Martin Luther King Jr., and the “by any means necessary” approach advocated by Malcolm X. The perception is that if you’re a “Martin,” you promote love, equality, and pacifism – so your cause is acceptable. If you’re a “Malcolm,” you’re too angry and bitter – and your cause is unacceptable.

In her earlier writings about race, Oluo’s style was deemed more Malcolm than Martin. She was often told that the reason race relations had become a discursive topic in the first place was because of people like her, who were too “loud” and “inconvenient.”

But dismissing cries for justice because you don’t like someone’s tone is a cruel, silencing tactic. When you shift the conversation about oppression to the way it’s being discussed, this is called tone-policing.

The key message here is: Tone-policing and the “model minority” myth harm the struggle toward equality and justice.

So how can you avoid tone-policing? Well, to start, keep in mind that when you’re talking about racism with people who have been targets of oppression, they’re entering the conversation from a different, more vulnerable place than you are. And through all that hurt and grieving, there is likely some justified anger.

So you should never urge a person who represents a marginal identity to make your approval their priority. Get used to being uncomfortable. Your engagement in dialogue shouldn’t be viewed as you doing them a favor – it’s your moral obligation to fight systemic racism.

A major silencing tactic that’s often employed is the “model minority” myth. This fetishizes Asian Americans with the stereotype that they are the “ideal minority group,” presumed to have academic and financial success, a good work ethic, and political meekness. The term – originally used to describe the socio-economic prosperity of Japanese Americans in the 1960s – has numerous negative impacts. For one, it erases the experiences of swaths of the Asian American population, particularly refugees.

So, although the socio-economic data of “Asian Americans” is similar to that of white Americans, when you specify country of origin the disparities are severe. For example, Bangladeshi and Hmong Americans have a poverty rate of 26 to 28 percent, which exceeds both Black and Hispanic Americans. And Pacific Islanders have the highest unemployment rate of any ethnic or racial group in the country.

Abuse of Asian Americans is also too often ignored. For instance, Asian American women are rarely the focus of domestic violence victim advocacy efforts, even though 41 to 61 percent are victims of physical or sexual abuse.

The reductive “model minority” myth is often used to sow tension and competition between Asian Americans and other people of color, which prevents them from organizing. That energy should instead be directed to the struggle against white supremacy.

"},{"id":"5f1602c86cee07000709d666","title":"Young people are combating systemic oppression and fighting for justice. ","text":"

Oluo grew up in the 1980s with the Cosby family on TV and the promise that racism was outdated. The message was, if you kept your head down and worked hard, you wouldn’t be denied opportunities based on the color of your skin. Then came the crack epidemic and the Violent Crime Control and Law Enforcement Act of 1994, which accelerated the criminalization and mass incarceration of Black and Brown people.

One of the effects of this is that young people are now denouncing a system so focused on exceptionalism that it allowed for the criminalization, incarceration, and murder of those deemed “less exceptional.”

The key message here is: Young people are combating systemic oppression and fighting for justice.

Do your part by examining your own racism. If you’re white and someone calls you racist, don’t freak out and don’t dismiss it. Even if you didn’t intend to do or say something racist, listen and be willing to let go of the idea of seeing yourself as “good.” Maybe you’re doing the work and are continuing to try to be actively anti-racist. But you should bear in mind that you were born into and have enjoyed the privileges afforded to you in a racist, white supremacist society. This inevitably means you have also been complicit in maintaining those structures.

In addition, if you are white, it’s important to accept that you will never fully understand the effect of systemic racism on people of color – and no one representing these communities or identities owes you an explanation.

If, after much thought, you absolutely disagree that you committed a racist act, it’s still important that you do not invalidate that person’s pain. Your goal should not be proving that you aren’t racist. It should be finding out if you are, and resolving the hurt you caused if and where possible.

Talking about race is a good first step, but to dismantle white supremacy, you must take action. For example, you can do so by voting locally and demanding that racial justice be a top priority for anyone asking for your support. Or if you see a person of color being detained by the police or harassed, you can stop, bear witness, and offer to help if and when it’s safe to do so.

You could also demand that your union fights racial disenfranchisement in the workplace. You can support businesses owned by people of color. Boycott banks and businesses that abuse and prey on people of color. Donate to organizations that are fighting for racial justice. Put pressure on your local government to end racial bias in policing. There are so many ways in which you can take action and show up in the fight against systemic oppression.

And remember: we don’t have an infinite well of time to sit around and talk. People are dying. We must learn and fight at the same time.

"}]}

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