If we don’t talk about race, Sarah Jackson argues, we can’t get to any place progressive.
Originally published on Role/Reboot
Recently Steve Locke wrote an incredibly on-point and heartfelt piece for The Good Men Project about why he was tired of talking about race. Locke, a talented artist and art professor, explained that “as a black person, I am called on often to speak for my ‘race.’ I can never give an opinion without it being assumed to be that of a multitude.” At the same time Locke details the hypocrisy that often evolves when he engages others in conversations about the continuing impact of racism in American society and is dismissed, attacked, or accused of being incapable of being objective. Locke notes that anyone genuinely committed to learning about race and how race has and continues to shape our country and everyday lives has “libraries full of books, interviews, essays, lectures, and symposia” to draw from, but that he, for one, is tired.
Steve, I feel you man, I really do. Talking about race is exhausting, especially in a world that pretends it’s a conversation that no longer needs to be had, especially when faced with an already hostile audience because of the color of your skin, and especially because, as you point out, “whenever white people want to talk about race, they never want to talk about themselves.” Which is, of course, why we all need to keep talking about race.
And let me be clear about whom I mean by “we.” I mean you. Whoever you are, whatever your identity, you should talk about race.
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As an educator who researches and teaches about issues of social identity I find myself talking about race almost every day. That’s what I signed up for. But the thing is, even if it wasn’t my job to talk about race I still live in a raced world where race is talked about around me and to me, whether I like it or not. And that is not only because I am a person of color. Certainly, the color of my skin, like the fact that I was born with a vagina, influences the way the world perceives and treats me, but that same world perceives and treats EVERYONE in certain ways because of the color of their skin. Just as men’s everyday experiences are affected by constructions of gender and heterosexuals benefit from constructions of normative sexuality, white people live in a raced world, too. We are all surrounded by implicit (and explicit) race talk. I, for one, want my voice and the voices of others who want progress, to be a part of the conversation.
One of the tenants of feminism is that the lived, everyday experiences of women matter and should be considered equally valuable to those of men if we are to move toward a gender equitable society. We encourage women who have been the victims of gendered violence to tell their stories in order to de-stigmatize this experience. We call out department stores that sell shirts that tell our daughters if they are pretty they don’t have to do homework. We ask that our female politicians be judged equally to their male counterparts and not on what they’re wearing. We say aloud and repeat the fact that women continuing to make less money than men for the same work is the result of institutionalized sexism. We understand that constructions of gender are everywhere, even when not spoken about explicitly. Those of us invested in gender equality do all these things because talking about gender, naming it, and questioning it, can be empowering. The more we talk, the more we redefine the gendered social constructions that hurt us all. I’m sure you see where I’m going here.
Locke’s desire not to talk about race reminded me of an experiment conducted last year by John L. Jackson, Jr. (no relation) of the University of Pennsylvania’s Annenberg School for Communication. Jackson attempted a 40-day fast from talking about race. In an interview with NPR he explained that from day one this fast turned out to be impossible. “Race is around every corner, so I had to excuse myself from every conversation. I couldn’t read any headline because it is there already,” he said. “The experiment proved that if you’re not talking about race at all you’re not actually talking about the contemporary moment in a way that’s going to get us to someplace progressive.”
Exactly. So let’s talk about race.
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Contrary to the naive (and destructive) idea that we should live in a “colorblind” society where simply avoiding race as a topic makes it go away, talking about race, identifying its continuing impact on individuals and our society at large, allows us to move toward addressing continuing inequalities and validating a diverse set of experiences.
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Contrary to the naive (and destructive) idea that we should live in a “colorblind” society where simply avoiding race as a topic makes it go away, talking about race, identifying its continuing impact on individuals and our society at large, allows us to move toward addressing continuing inequalities and validating a diverse set of experiences.
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And let me again be clear, I do not mean that only people of color should talk about race. In fact, I agree with Steve Locke that people of color face the unfair burden of being expected to talk about race, even when they don’t want to or don’t, frankly, know much about it in an intellectual sense. I have seen this in my classroom when white students fall silent on issues of race and look to their black and brown classmates to address complex racial issues single-handedly. It’s as if my white students think that despite their peers sharing their age and educational level, the extra melanin in their skin has imbued them with the wisdom of Martin Luther King, the tenacity of Cesear Chavez, and the patience of Ghandi. I promise you, it has not. Similarly, like Locke, I have experienced the sting of being told I’m being “too sensitive” or “unobjective” about race many times, because of, yep, my race. Which is exactly why I want everyone to talk about race.
As Locke points out, as long as only people of color are asked to speak on race and then dismissed for doing so, white people maintain the privilege of not having to recognize the way race affects their everyday lives. Just as we need “good men” who are willing to talk about how being a man uniquely privileges them and how dominant constructions of masculinity hurt them, men who are willing to speak up against rape culture on college campuses and homophobia in the military, we need white folks to have open, public conversations about how their whiteness affects their everyday lives and to speak up against individuals, policies, and institutions that perpetuate racial hierarchies by refusing to talk about race. Silence isn’t only consent; silence is like giving a system based in racial hierarchies a bear hug and cooking it a romantic dinner.
I plan to keep talking about race, just like I plan to keep talking about sexism, homophobia, and classism. I talk about race because I don’t know how not to and because I wish desperately that others couldn’t help themselves either.
Note: Steve Locke already provided a valuable reading list with his discussion, in that spirit I would add:
White Women Race Matters, Ruth Frankenberg
The Possessive Investment in Whiteness, George Lipsitz
White Like Me, Tim Wise
Black Feminist Thought, Patricia Hill Collins
Seeing a Colorblind Future, Patricia Williams
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Sarah Jackson is a Postdoctoral Teaching Fellow at Northeastern University in Boston, MA. Her research and teaching focus on how media discourses of race, class, and gender reinforce and/or challenge concepts of national belonging. Outside her academic life, Sarah volunteers with youth in educational equity programs, does a lot of yoga, and fantasizes about being an artist. Read more of her writing on Wandering In Love and follow her on Twitter @sjjphd
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This article originally appeared on Role/Reboot and is reprinted with permission.
—Photo woodleywonderworks/Flickr
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Thanks for this article, it makes me think about how a) black people are disproportionately expected to chime in on all things race-related and b) white people get to cop out and stay mum, partly for fear of overstepping political correctness boundaries, but mainly cause they wanna put the responsibility on the minorities themselves; at least that’s my opinion.
I think you’re mostly right there, about ‘white people’ not wanting to overstep the bounds. There’s also another part of that, though, in that the opinion of a White Christian Middle Class Male _doesn’t_matter_.
It’s not that I think that their opinions are not valid or worthwhile, it’s that it’s not seen as important. If our hypothetical WCMCM (white, christian middle class male) is all for cultural tolerance and equal rights, well, yeah — as Chris Rock would put it, “What do you want, a cookie?” If our WCMCM is all for equality, well, duh, it’s considered a calorie-free position because that’s what is expected.
If the WCMCM is a white-supremacist who thinks anything not like him is Wrong(TM) then that opinion, too, is useless because that’s also an “expected” position; a lot of people believe that WCMCM’s are secretly racists regardless of how many James Brown albums they own.
I’m not trying lament the terrible burden of white male-dom (note my sarcasm), but just pointing out that there is a counterpart to the relatively unencumbered life the WCMCM enjoys. They are the baseline so they have fewer hinderances and fewer problems in western society, but also they are less “important”, societally speaking.
Sarah, the counterpoint I would argue is similar to what Matt says above: the opinions of whites on race are often simply disregarded (at least in “progressive” company). Just like men are often viewed as being irrelevant to the abortion debate (unless as pro-choice allies) and any contrary opinions to total abortion access expressed by men are often dismissed outright. You can say that’s a small price to pay and that’s fine, but why would I talk about race (or any other subject) when I know my opinion is likely simply to be dismissed out-of-hand because of the color of my skin? (Decent) whites (and men) are constantly told that our opinions hold essentially no value because we don’t know what it’s like to be X oppressed group, and that we constantly shout down others simply by expressing our opinion (because others might be socialized not to argue with a White Male [tm]). Yet if we try to fall into respectful silence and simply learn from the experiences of others, as your students seem to do, we are then criticized for not speaking up and expecting POC to do the heavy lifting.
Well, if you want me to talk but you don’t want to hear what I have to say, why would I keep talking? And perhaps you genuinely do want to hear what I have to say but, just as POC and women and everyone else internalize harmful messages which devalue what they think and feel, so do white men. And so it’s very difficult, as Tad commented in his awesome Myth of Patriarchy article, for decent men to figure out what the right thing to do is. I hope you can see why these mixed messages can be so confusing.
Hi Rick, thank you for your comments. I have to say that despite my extensive studies on race, talking about race, privilege, and oppression, I’m surprised by the number of comments here that seem to suggest that white folks are systematically victimized because of their identity when they try to talk about race. Can you give me a specific examples or citations?
I will say, and this might be redundant because others have commented similarly, that in my plea for white folks to talk about race I DO NOT mean that white folks should try to talk about race as authorities on what it is like to be a person of color or how prejudice feels. I ask you (not just you specifically, everyone) to talk about race as an ally. Just as allies exist in the feminist or gay rights movements. From my experience in both social and academic settings sometimes white folks, as a symptom of their privilege, attempt to talk FOR or ABOUT people of color when they talk about race because they simply are not used to being challenged about the things they talk about in general. And of course, it is always difficult to be challenged, but I suggest above that the difficulty of being challenged, of having to perhaps value the first hand experiences of others over your own perception of those experiences, isn’t a good reason not to be a part of the conversation. What I am also suggesting above is that people of color/women/GLBTQs/etc can speak for ourselves but that in order for real progress to be made we also require white allies who will value our speech and take the initiative to speak on how race effects their world as well. As just one example, I would hope that well-meaning white folks like yourself will use the privilege that their identity allows them within their own group (where for example I might be dismissed as “unobjective” because of the color of my skin) to challenge others to acknowledge their privilege, perpetuation of stereotypes, and to point out and work on solutions to continuing systemic racial disparities (e.g. education, criminal justice). I personally have never heard a person of color dismiss or be angry with a white person for talking about white privilege or inequality. In fact, if anything it seems to me that sometimes it is white people who reprimand each other for talking about race (Tim Wise’s book “Speaking Treason Fluently” details this further).
Finally, while there is much need for frank race talk on a systemic and institutional level I will leave you with a personal experience that happened to me yesterday soon after this piece went up that reminded me of how much even simple talk about race from allies matters. I was on the train and a young white woman standing near me began to talk disparagingly about what she called the “ghetto lingo” and “hoodrat talk” of “all the train drivers.” She proceeded for about five minutes to loudly take up an exaggerated “blackccent” sprinkled in with giggles and commentary like “seriously, they’re just ridiculous.” She did all this literally standing over me, as if she did not see me or have any conception that it might offend me, least of all that it was racial problematic. I looked around and saw that I was the only person of color in ear range of her and I felt afraid. I’m not sure there is a way to explain the type of fear an experience like that induces. Obviously I wasn’t in any real physical danger, but the identity group I belong to was being attacked and I was alone. All I could think while I was sitting there was that there were at least a half a dozen white people in ear shot of her as well and I wished desperately that one would simply say “Excuse me, that really is quite offensive.” Not because I needed a white person to rescue me but because it was the right thing to do. That simple. But no one said a thing. Now, the reason I tell this story is because it encompasses, albeit in an overly simplistic way (since the problem of race in America is much less an individual one and much more a systemic one), much of what I was hoping to get across above. If we really all believe in a society where people are not disparaged based on the color of their skin (or the culturally specific way they speak) shouldn’t everyone, especially those with power, be responsible for reinforcing the value that just because people are different from them doesn’t make them “ghetto” or “ridiculous”? I have chosen a career as an educator but in that situation why should it be my responsibility to intervene when I am the one most alone, vulnerable, and essentially under attack? I don’t need others to speak for me, but it would be nice to feel that I am not speaking alone. Unfortunately the privilege of whiteness allows the belief that that young ladies actions, and more endemic and consequential acts of racial persecution, were not the business of the other white people on the train, that they weren’t effected by them, but the truth is that everyone is negatively effected by ignorance and being an ally means speaking/acting up against that ignorance even if the starting place is as simplistic as a conversation on a train.
My personal opinion is that people unless they know about all races, don’t anything. Period!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
As Locke points out, as long as only people of color are asked to speak on race and then dismissed for doing so, white people maintain the privilege of not having to recognize the way race affects their everyday lives.
I honestly think one reason this happens is because white people are simultaneously expected talk about race and expected to not talk about it simply because they are white and even those who do want them to talk about want to keep it strictly limited to how white people benefit from race.
Just as we need “good men” who are willing to talk about how being a man uniquely privileges them and how dominant constructions of masculinity hurt them, men who are willing to speak up against rape culture on college campuses and homophobia in the military,…
And I’ll tell you from my own experience as a man I have been burned way too many times by this trap. Asking men to speak up about how the system affects and then getting mad when we speak of it in any capacity other than how the system privileges us. Like Rick says about in the abortion discourse if a man is anything other than a pro-choice ally he is dismissed instantly. Given how I’ve been treated in the gender discourse (having my opinion and experiences disregarded on the sole virtue of being a man) I have no problem understanding why white people are hesitant to talk about race (because at times they are disregarded on the sole virtue of being white).
You’re* going to have a hard time getting peole to join a discourse when you’ve already decided on the (low) value of what they say based on a characteristic.
You* can’t actively discourage people from taking part in a conversation or limiting what they are allowed to bring to the conversation because they are ______ but then turn around and get mad because there aren’t many _______ in the conversation.
* – And of course those are generic, not implying you specifically Sarah.
Wait. This is confusing? Really?
I am a white, bisexual female. I talk about the patriarchy, I talk about rape culture, I talk about feminism and I talk about abortion. I talk about homophobia and biphobia. One of the reasons I talk about it? Is so other people will have to talk back. I want to hear what *everyone* has to say about these things, not just to listen to the sound of my own voice. Do I care if those people are male, female, trans, bi, straight, gay, etc? Hell to the F no. TALK PEOPLE. Tell me what y’all are thinking. Let’s discuss.
As for race? Sure, I am not a WCMCM so, you’re right, I can’t speak to that experience and what it feels like to think your opinions don’t matter. However, I can understand feeling like I can’t talk about race because I’m white. But. Here, my friends, is the key point: Do I stop talking about it? Do I pretend I don’t see racism everyeffingwhere? Do I allow those who think I should keep quiet because I am a privileged white woman shut me up? Ummmm… nope. Don’t. I think those people are missing the freakin’ point. I *do* instead try to always express my opinions and views and experiences as *mine* and not *everyone’s* – and I am always open to dialogue and other opinions, views, and experiences. I am always open to changing my world view.
So. If it’s confusing? Then try this: Don’t listen to the people who tell you you don’t have a voice. You do. Use it. But be open. Always. It’s that simple. Srsly.
While I appreciate the dynamics of this conversation, I am amused at how much time is spent talking about “talking about” race. As Lisa Hickey argued in a previous post about honesty, actions speak louder than words. If we spend as much time aligning our actions with our non-racist longings, as we do talking about the affects of racism, we are more likely to change the conversation about – and the existence of – racism.
Anecdotally, my group of WCMCM friends and I get together once a month to talk about stuff and enjoy each other’s company. We have discussed race, but it didn’t really change anything, that I could tell. What did change things was when one of the group sent an e-mail that was overtly racist. I called him on it. It was an uncomfortable moment for the group, but it did change things. Each of us re-examined our own racist tendencies, and understood how careless we are, at times, with the language we use and the humor we enjoy. And to this day, there has not been a racist joke shared among the group. Are we all “cured” of our racism? No. But we were changed by that interaction.
I would say this if we make every effort to live a non-racist life that will affect change far more significantly than any conversation we have about it.
I am really intrigued by the commentary this post has generated. It’s really making me think, so thanks for sharing.
Now, while I agree wholeheartedly with my friend Nikki B who said:
Don’t listen to the people who tell you don’t have a voice. You do. Use it. But be open. Always. It’s that simple. Srsly.
The comments from the WCMCM’s above have me asking myself, “Are you one of the people of colour who shut white people down during discussions of race?” My honest answer to that question? Sometimes. To be clear, in my experience that has more to do with the attitude of the white person in question – often dismissive – than the content of what they’re actually saying. More times than I care to remember, the minute a conversation about race gets uncomfortable, they offer up some BS platitude like “I don’t see colour anyway” or “race just doesn’t matter to me”, that not only pisses me off, but also makes my brain quickly exit the conversation.
Now truth be told, in my younger less tolerant and patient days, I’m sure that my frustrations were often expressed with some very dismissive comments of my own. But you know what all my not so pent up frustration definitely didn’t do? Stop me from engaging with white people on the subject of race EVER – especially now that I’m an older and hopefully little bit wiser adult. You want to know why? Because, as Mr. Locke and Ms. Jackson both pointed out, as a POC I just don’t have the luxury of doing so.
And I think that’s exactly the point some of the people who’ve already commented are missing. Yes, I get that it must really, really suck to have your opinion discounted because some POC believe that by virtue of being ‘melanin- challenged’ there’s no way you could ever possibly get anything about race. And yes, I understand that fighting to be heard over the din of other people’s ignorance can be hella tiring. Still, when white people choose not to engage for those reasons at least two not so great things happen: 1) it limits our collective progress on improving race relations through honest, open and meaningful discussion; and 2) the privilege (that would be the white variety) that makes such discussions necessary in the first place are reinforced, as the only people who are consistently afforded the ability discuss/deal with race only when the feel like it are those among us with white skin.
If there is ever to be any real progress on race in America and beyond ALL our voices need to be involved in the discussion. FACT.
Skye, I can’t speak for the people who use “race doesn’t matter to me” as a cop-out. But I’m not sure why you inherently consider it a BS platitude…do you just assume that all people are secretly racist in a real and consequential way? That seems unfair. Children don’t seem to care about race unless taught to do so, and it seems to me that racial bigotry is clearly a matter of socialization rather than an innate human trait. (Or, at least, that proper socialization can overwhelm whatever evolved suspiciousness we might have.) I would add further that just as white people can avoid talking about race as a factor of our privilege, so too can we avoid caring about race as a factor of our privilege. In many places in the U.S., race can be truly irrelevant to white people (and to certain accepted minority groups in certain areas) because in some areas we simply face no discrimination and, occasionally, perpetuate none as well. So race can be irrelevant for us in a way that it might not be for most POC. I hope you can see how that might be my reality. I genuinely believed racism in America was nearly ended until I left home in the Bay Area and came into the military, where — for the first time — I encountered real bigotry as (typically Southern or Midwestern) white racists assumed that my skin color put me in their stupid racist club. It was a serious shock and caused me to reevaluate many of my political and social beliefs.
I appreciate your being honest enough to admit that sometimes you can be dismissive (since obviously, here, you could simply claim you’re not and we would believe you). And me? I have a big mouth and will state what I think, though I do try to listen first — especially to people often silenced — and I still think that’s a good thing.
When I hear a POC (or whatever) decide they’re angry and tired of educating the ignorant, I sympathize but I still think it’s a mistake. It unfortunately falls to POC to educate because they’re the ones affected. They can choose not to educate to try to make the point that it’s not them who ought to explain themselves and I thoroughly agree with the sentiment, but I think that it’s ultimately counterproductive.
I am a white woman, though that’s not a description I would normally apply to myself, it’s just to say that that’s how other people see me. I grew up in Britain. I don’t mind if conservatives call me a liberal. But I’m afraid to talk about race to black people in the US in case I say something offensive. I might use the word color or assume that a black person knows something about black music, cuisine, or history (stereotyping). Those are the sort of subjects I might choose if I were talking to anyone I suspected came from a different culture. My son calls me on this too. The result is that I keep quiet.
I’d like to ask a black person: “What do you want me to ask? What don’t you want me to ask? Do you want me to treat you like I treat all my other friends, or do you want me to treat you as if you’re black and therefore should be treated differently? ” And that’s probably offensive, too. If so, I’m sorry. And I’ll shut up.
I can understand the hesitation. I’d like to think:
1. “What do you want me to ask?/ What don’t you want me to ask? – This is probably the hardest question of all because of one reason. Black people aren’t a monolith. A topic (like say hair) that really brings out the hostility in one black person because they have negative experiences in that topic may barely get a response out of a different black person that may have not had many experiences on the topic and may get a kind response out of someone that has positive experiences on the topic. Unfortunately there is no real answer to this other than to use your own judgement.
2. Do you want me to treat you like I treat all my other friends, or do you want me to treat you as if you’re black and therefore should be treated differently? – This sounds like an issue of “colorblindness”. The thing is while you may be really trying to treat black people fairly you could very well end up doing just the opposite if you aren’t mindful. There is a difference between not letting the fact that someone is black influence how you treat them (as in you won’t make assumptions about them, positive or negative) and ignoring the fact that they are black in certain situations (like insisting on seeing a movie that may have anti-black racist overtones). So the answer here is really both. Treat them like you treat your other friends but be mindful of when the fact that they are black matters.
I feel like I am talking about race often, but usually feel that it is not often enough. I am a white woman. I have a white daughter. A black husband, 3 bi-racial adult step-daughters and a black daughter. Talking to people about how things work in my family, our family dynamic and the racism that we have faced at various points in our lives makes people realize that race is not something that should be brushed under the rug, or something that “doesn’t exist anymore.” It does. It is sad that it does, but it does exist. Racism takes all kinds of different forms, and is quite varied. Thank you for this article.
Thank you for this challenging and thought-provoking article and discussion.
I’m feeling surprised by the way in which the language being used still feels “coded.” “Talking about race” seems to be equated with “talking about people of color.” And, this is where I can see a “hiccup” for getting white people to talk about race. As a white woman, I don’t feel as if I need to speak on behalf of people of color, expressing to others the discrimination that POC face. For me, talking about race means being accountable to who I am and the privilege I hold as a white person. Therefore, talking about race often means talking about whiteness. Rather than trying to reveal experiences of discrimination and oppression that I will never fully understand, I find it more impactful to name whiteness and the white-dominated structures that create and perpetuate such experiences. Rather than “talking about race” by “talking FOR or ABOUT” POC, white people need to be naming whiteness, on a personal and structural level, revealing the privilege it allots some over others and the power differential it creates and perpetuates across all facets of our society.
In regards to the discussion on the discounting of the opinions of White Christian Middle-Class Males, I want to encourage us to think more about how and when people’s voices are heard. Although I am not a WCMCM, being raised as a white woman, I was taught that my voice is important and that people want to hear what I have to say. My experiences are, of course, shaped by my other identities, and the way I was taught to use my voice in regards to people socialized as men is very different than when in women-only spaces. Nonetheless, I was given a clear message that my words and opinions deserve to be listened to and respected. For many people of color, this is not true. Instead, the voices of many people of color are interrupted, ignored and pushed down. Therefore, when I choose to use my voice to stand up against racism, I need to do so intentionally. Recognizing the reality that the thoughts and opinions of people of color are commonly disregarded in dominant society, it is especially important that I actively listen and respond to people of color, and, that in doing so, I use my voice to represent myself rather than “steal” or appropriate their voices. In my experiences in interracial spaces, I’ve found that my opinions are listened to and respected far more when I show that I am listening to other people and when I name and speak to the impact of my whiteness and systematic white dominance, rather than assuming I know its effects on POC. When I am in predominantly white groups, I know that I have the privilege of being listened to while many POC may not have the safety or comfort to do so. In these moments, it is especially important that I use the privilege of my voice to speak up against racism and challenge any racist actions or behaviors.
As a white male, I would like to bring one thing to your attention that you may not have considered in this issue of race conversation. You said “I have seen this in my classroom when white students fall silent on issues of race and look to their black and brown classmates to address complex racial issues single-handedly. It’s as if my white students think that despite their peers sharing their age and educational level, the extra melanin in their skin has imbued them with the wisdom of Martin Luther King, the tenacity of Cesear Chavez, and the patience of Ghandi.” While not having sat in your classroom, I of course can only guess at what the students may or may not have had on their minds. It is however much more likely in today’s political climate for a white student to be labeled a racist and expelled for a comment made in sincerity in that classroom than for a person of color. Even if not expelled, the damage inflicted on someone by the mere charge of racism is immense! I too work in education, both as a teacher and as a coach. One interesting observation is that students of color be they black or Hispanic seem to relish in a certain amount of joy when they can make a situation awkward for a white student by inserting racial tension into a situation. Not sure if you have noticed that or not?
“Contrary to the naive (and destructive) idea that we should live in a “colorblind” society where simply avoiding race as a topic makes it go away, talking about race, identifying its continuing impact on individuals and our society at large, allows us to move toward addressing continuing inequalities and validating a diverse set of experiences.”
The assertion here is self-contradictory. If the society is “colorblind,” then the color of the skin of an individual would not matter how society treats the individual, thereby ending racism. The author seems to be only interested in picking inequalities between the social conditions of different races and assigning it to racism without even glancing at the incompetence of that racial group. The inequities would continue and author can take all her time validating their diverse set of experiences unless somebody examines the real underlying causes.
“In fact, I agree with Steve Locke that people of color face the unfair burden of being expected to talk about race, even when they don’t want to or don’t, frankly, know much about it in an intellectual sense.”
Sure, the people of color are tired of attacking Whites for their misfortune and Whites should now do some intellectual self-flagellation.
“White students fall silent on issues of race and look to their black and brown classmates to address complex racial issues single-handedly.”
In the politically correct environment of university campus today saying something against the dominant race meme “all inequities faced by so-called people of color is due to White racism,” will do no good to the student. Therefore only POC students can talk about race and blame Whites for their problem. Why should White students self-blame by talking about race.
The use of term POC is just an attempt to lump all non-Whites into one category against Whites. Different ethnic minority groups have different experiences with White people. It is just an attempt to hide the weakness of African American community behind the wall of racism. Has the author ever heard about “model minorities” which have outclassed White people. Racism is all about African American community whining to get more concessions and immunity for their misdeeds. For example, if there are more African American in prison, it is should be due to racism and not because this community is producing criminals disproportionate to its population.
P.S. I also belong to a successful ethnic minority group. I hope that protects me from the accusation of being racist.