True Solidarity: Moving Past Privilege Guilt

As I prepare to head to the White Privilege Conference in Madison, WI this weekend, here’s my latest piece published at Everyday Feminism.  As I have been helping plan some of the parts of the conference meant to inspire people to take action during and after the three-day event, this post seems particularly relevant, as those of us with privilege must find ways to move past guilt and toward accountable action.

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I remember well when I was first confronted with my privilege.

I had just started college, and some activists called me out on the ways in which my class and race privilege were showing up in the classroom as well as in activist spaces.

Of course I was indignant. “I’m not privileged! I work hard for everything I have!”

And while I did indeed work hard, that assertion is obviously laughable.

There are all sorts of aspects of my identity that afford me privilege: my race, my gender, my religious upbringing, my intergenerational wealth, my ability, and on and on.

But that didn’t make it any easier for me to hear, and as I realized they were right, I fell into a bit of depression, carrying tremendous guilt and struggling to understand how this could be true.

I felt as if I was a bad person simply for being who I am, and I was trapped in shame.

I’m a racist, classist, sexist, ableist homophobe who is ruining everything everywhere.” Yeah, it’s a little dramatic, but it’s honestly reflective of how I felt.

In the midst of my wrestling with this guilt and inertia, I noticed a quote on the dorm room wall of a girl I was totes crushing on:

QuotePic1

I didn’t think much of it the first time I saw it. Or the second time. But since I was hanging around in her room a lot, the quote kept showing up for me, and after a while, it really hit me.

I had to find a way to move out of guilt if I wanted to make a difference.

In time I came to realize that if privilege guilt prevents me from acting against oppression, then it is simply another tool of oppression, and sitting in guilt means further colluding with the system that is making me feel shame.

In turn, we have to find a way to move through or past guilt and toward action against oppression.

And though the process of overcoming privilege guilt must inevitably be intensely personal, there are approaches to ending feelings of guilt that all people of privilege can take.

Approaches to Moving Through or Past Privilege Guilt

1. Self-Reflect

If you’re struggling with shame about your identity and your privilege, that guilt is rooted somewhere, and understanding those roots is important.

Is your guilt coming from your active collusion in oppression? Is it rooted in past action? Is it rooted in feelings of powerlessness about the big-picture problems of oppression?

Without a strong understanding of where our guilt comes from, it is impossible to overcome guilt and accountably act for social justice.

After all, if our guilt is rooted in past oppressive actions, knowing so allows us to forgive ourselves and, perhaps, apologize to others for our hurtful behavior so that we can move forward.

If our guilt stems from our own collusion with oppression, lacking such awareness will only lead to “White knighting,” a term I use as a catchall for acting for or on behalf of those we wish to help. Having knowledge of our own collusion, then, allows us to begin to take steps toward solidarity.

2. Understand and Accept Your Role in Oppression

Read the rest at Everyday Feminism.

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30 Ways to Be a Better Ally in 2014

As I think back over 2013, I’m happily overwhelmed by memories of my first year living with my partner, of incredible opportunities to collaborate with new professional colleagues, and of time with family and friends.

Standing at the margins of these memories, though, are ones that make my heart beat a little faster, that make the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

No, these are not necessarily memories of trauma, per se. They are memories of hurt that I have caused, of my attempts to be a good ally that ended up hurting those with whom I attempted to act in solidarity.

My heart races, in part, because I feel embarrassed and ashamed, but more so, my heart races because I know I hurt people for whom I care very much, and I have a responsibility to do better going forward.

With that in mind, I have been reflecting a lot lately on how I can be a better ally.

And as we wade our way into 2014, I suppose now is as good a time as any to consider some ways that I (and any person who wishes to act accountably as an ally) can do better in 2014.

So here’s my list of 30 ways that those of us who strive to act in solidarity and allyship (most notably inclusive of myself) can be better allies.

1. Listen More

It can’t be said enough. The single most important thing we can do to be better allies is to listen across difference.

2. Talk Less

The other side of the coin of listening is that we can always do a better job of stepping back, asserting ourselves less into spaces, and, in doing so, allowing those to whom we ally to speak their truths.

3. Look to Amplify Rather than Overshadow

Though being a better ally can mean that we must talk less, that doesn’t mean that we ought to be in total silence.

We surely need to defer to those with whom we are acting in solidarity, but we also want to make sure that we are not leaving those to whom we want to ally ourselves to be the only ones speaking.

Thus, there are times we should be speaking up, times where we can amplify the voices of others with our collective perspectives. It’s just important to be sure we’re amplifying, not overshadowing.

4. Strive to Use More Inclusive Language

There are always ways that we can use more inclusive language as allies. I, personally, think I do a pretty good job of being inclusive, but I still find myself using ableist language like “insane” or “lame” pretty often. Thus, in working to be a better ally in 2014, I can work to be even more inclusive in my language.

5. Be Careful with Pronoun Use

Part of using inclusive language that is, unfortunately, still pretty new to a lot of people working for social justice is careful use of pronouns.

Not all people would label themselves with the gendered pronouns that you might assume for them, and some people prefer non-gendered pronouns altogether.  A simple way that we can be inclusive is to offer what pronouns we prefer and ask others what they would prefer.

And try not to misgender people by assuming the pronouns that they would prefer unless you’ve heard them assert their preference.

6. Engage More People Who Share Your Identity

As allies, our primary work must be with people who share our privileged identity. Thus, the more we can work to bring people who share our identity to understand their identity and privilege and to act for justice, the better.

7. Don’t Think You’re ‘Holier Than’ Those Who Share Your Identity

I recently had a fantastic conversation with my partner, her mom, and a family friend about a really frustrating thing that we often see among White liberals: the“holier than thou” attitude.

As our primary responsibility as allies is to challenge and bring into the fold those who share our identity, calling people out with no desire to call them in or to engage them or others in dialogue or action toward justice is just lazy, faux activism. Stop it.

8. Cite Your Sources

Whether discussing the origin of a hashtag or referring to a complex theory or idea, if you’re a person of privilege, you have a responsibility to cite your sources.

In the age of the Internet, it can be pretty easy to pass off anything and everything as our own (whether intentionally or out of laziness), but we need to be clear where our ideas are coming from.

If we’re talking about oppression and we’re not oppressed, the ideas aren’t ours. Cite them.

9. Self-Reflect More

Simple. Pretty much everyone of any identity could use more time for both critical and loving self reflection in a society that encourages us constantly to be engrossed in exterior input.

But for people of privilege who want to be allies, it is particularly important that we build into our lives ways to consider our own identity and its impacts on others and how we can more fully live in our values.

10. Interrogate Why You’re Striving to Be an Ally

As part of this self-reflection, it is important to ask why you’re striving to be in solidarity with oppressed people across difference.

Are you doing it because you want to “save” others or “use your privilege” to help someone? Or are you striving for solidarity because, in the words of Lilla Watson,“your liberation is bound up with” those with whom you ally yourself?

Read 11-30 at Everyday Feminism.

The Top 10 of 2013: Change From Within’s Year in Review

Happy New Year!

2013 was a transformative year for me and my writing.  My business and my blogging have changed and grown a lot in the last 12 months.  In a lot of ways, my writing here at Change From Within has taken a back seat to my writing for larger platforms, namely Everyday Feminism and The Good Men Project, which has been cool to see. As is my yearly tradition, it’s time to reflect on my writing of the past year and highlight those pieces that were most widely-read.

Over at Everyday Feminism, three of my pieces really stood out in terms of reception and hits:

‘That’s Racist Against White People’ A Discussion on Power and Privilege was by far my most popular piece of 2013 at EF with more than 80,000 hits.

Also worthy of mention from my Everyday Feminism writing in 2013 are Intent vs Impact: Why Your Intentions Don’t Really Matter and So You Call Yourself an Ally: 10 Things All ‘Allies’ Need to Know.

At The Good Men Project, I had a few different pieces go bananas in 2013.

The Healthy Sex Talk: Teaching Kids Consent, Ages 1-21“, a piece I co-wrote with Alyssa Royse, Julie Gillis, and Joanna Schroeder, was by far my most-read contribution of 2013 with more than 1 million hits on numerous platforms.

My Open Letter to the Rapey Frat Brother and the ‘How to Get Laid’ Generation also was widely read, getting picked up by the Huffington Post.

Change From Within’s Top 10 Articles of 2013

Over here at Change From Within, the posts that were most read speak to the changes in my own work.  More and more, I have tried to highlight the writing and perspectives of the amazing people in my community, and that’s reflected in the most-read articles of the year.  4 of the top 10 articles of 2013 were composed by friends and mentors!

Without further ado, here are the top posts from Change From Within in 2013:

10. Shaking Off the “Harlem Shake” Meme – Tools for Resisting Cultural Appropriation

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After “Racism, Appropriation, and the Harlem Shake” (coming in at #2 below), lots of readers were asking questions like, “So what are we supposed to do?  How do we actually resist cultural appropriation?”  In response, I wrote out a list of simple actions that we can all take to resist cultural appropriation around us.

9.  Standing Up to Racial and Religious Profiling

Kadra Abdi

After being racially and religiously profiled by the TSA in June of 2013, my dear friend Kadra Abdi wrote this powerful call to action with ways that we all can stand up to racial and religious profiling.  Her compelling story challenges us to think critically about our own judgments and how we can be part of the solution to this pressing problem.

8.  Rethinking Lisak & Miller: Checking the Math

After much criticism for my piece entitled “Preventing Sexual Violence – Rethinking Lisak & Miller,” I wrote a piece that tackled some of the math being used in criticizing my reconsideration of the groundbreaking Lisak & Miller research.  My friend Rida helped me run some mathematical scenarios that rethink the “predator theory” for who exactly we should be focusing on in our work to prevent sexual violence.

7.  Coming Out of the Woods: On Hugo Schwyzer and Accountability

In August, Hugo Schwyzer, a man who I have defended in the past, showed everyone who he truly is: a misogynistic, racist fraud.  In turn, I owed a lot of people apologies for my defense of this indefensible man.  Here is the public version of that apology.

6. 33+ Suggestions for Action After the Zimmerman Verdict

Justice for Trayvon MartinFor me, like many people, the “not-guilty” verdict in the George Zimmerman trial was devastating.  It wasn’t particularly surprising, but it was devastating emotionally and in its wider implications.  Thus, I was incredibly thankful when my friend and mentor Daniel Escalante emailed me with a list of suggestions for action that he (and others) put together. Now, a few months after the verdict, it is good for me to revisit these suggestions and recommit to action in 2014.  I encourage you to do the same.

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The Holiday Family Freakout: Calling Family In to Dialogue About Justice

Few things give me more anxiety than thinking about spending the holidays with my entire extended family.  Don’t get me wrong; I love them! And much of our time together each year is joyful and loving.

But inevitably someone is going to say something idiotic (read: racist, sexist, heterosexist/homophobic, anti-immigrant, anti-choice, religiously bigoted, or otherwise infuriatingly offensive).  And for years, I’ve struggled with how to navigate these family spaces.

After all, confronting the bigotry directly has been known to lead to all-out Christmas or Thanksgiving verbal brawls with shouting and crying and people walking out.

And I know full well that calling my anti-immigrant uncle out and starting verbal wrestlemania isn’t going to change his mind.  He revels in pissing people off with his political beliefs.  He’s the ultimate internet troll (except that he’s sitting on my grandmother’s couch).

Yet as I walk the precarious path in trying to be an accountable ally, I feel a calling and responsibility to address this stuff.  It’s tough to know what to do.

When talking with a friend the other night about whether or not to engage, I couldn’t help but think of a quote from the controversial but surely-quotable Tim Wise:

“The power of resistance is to set an example: not necessarily to change the person with whom you disagree, but to empower the one who is watching and whose growth is not yet completed, whose path is not at all clear, whose direction is still very much up in the proverbial air.”

As I think about whether to engage, I should consider less whether I want to fight with my trolling uncle than about who is listening.

Christmas_fight

Because I’m not going to change his mind, but I very well may plant the seeds of resistance in the minds of my young nieces and nephews.  They are listening.  And at 3, 5, and 7, few times of their lives will be more formative in their development of self and in their construction of “other.”

Further, I might empower someone else in the family to speak up.  Maybe they’ve been just as fed up with the nastiness and bigotry but felt alone at family gatherings.

Inclusiveness CAN Be a Family Value

And while a resistance to bigotry and a commitment to seeking justice are currently not family traditions or ethics, but they certainly can be.

When I saw Cornel West speak at the 2013 CIRCLE Conference, one of the many parts of his talk that stuck with me came in the Q&A.  I can’t remember exactly what question was asked, but he spoke to the need for an ethic of allyship and solidarity as a value.  He talked of needing to highlight more White allies in history, and he talked of needing more vocal allies working with others who share their identity to shift tides of oppression.

But that doesn’t just happen by buying our kids gender-neutral toys or books with fantastic messages.  Instilling inclusiveness as a family value requires some tough conversations.  Yes, these conversations should be respectful and carried out with love, but they need to happen, and they need to be public so that everyone in the family can understand that it is okay and encouraged to challenge someone on a statement that furthers oppression and marginalization.

But it’s also about timing.  If my uncle corners me alone in the kitchen to goad me into a a debate about how Phil Robertson is a perfect example of how Christians are the oppressed minority in the United States today, I’m probably not going to take the trolling bait.

But if during the meal, someone makes a statement about how immigrants are ruining our country, I need to find a way to challenge it and call them in to a discussion.

And while doing so might cause a collective family meltdown, the risk is worth it if we manage to have a powerful conversation that sets the precedent that we can talk through the tough things in our family. After all, doing so makes it clear to those little ones that our family is one that engages, not disengages, with the harsh realities that are the context both inside and outside the walls of our family celebration.

So You Call Yourself an Ally: 10 Things All ‘Allies’ Need to Know

As happens every time that I read something from Black Girl Dangerous, I recently found myself snapping, nodding, and yelling out “YES!” while reading a piece from Mia McKenzie.

Her article “No More ‘Allies’” made me profoundly uncomfortable – which is a good thing.

I was uncomfortable because it was a call to reflection about my own “ally”identifications and my own work.

To start, read her piece. Seriously. It is awesome.

Beyond that, though, it’s time for those of us who fashion ourselves “allies” or as “currently operating in solidarity with” to have a conversation.

More and more, I am seeing precisely what McKenzie is describing – people of identity privilege who are identifying as “allies” almost as if it is a core part of their identity.

What’s worse, I keep seeing people respond to criticism about their oppressive language or problematic humor with, “But I’m an ally!”

For instance, I recently saw an acquaintance (who notably identifies as Straight)post a pretty problematic joke about Gay men on Twitter.

Aside from expressing my discontent in a tweet, I reached out to her in a private message to explain why I took issue with her joke.

Her response, though, was to say, “Jamie, you know that I’m an LGBT ally! I speak out for Gay rights all the time! This was clearly just a joke.”

And therein lies the problem.

The identification of “ally” was so prominent in this person’s mind that she couldn’t even hear criticism of how her actions were out of alignment with her professed desire to be an “ally!”

So “allies,” let’s talk.

Credit Where Credit is Due

Before I say anything else, though, I should note something important about this article.

None of what I am writing here are my ideas.

They are drawn from Mia McKenzie’s piece, from conversations I’ve had with people of many different marginalized identities, from theorists, novelists, bloggers – but none of them are inherently mine.

They are the ideas of the People of Color, Queer-identified people, women, differently-abled people, poor folks, Jewish people, Muslim people, Atheists, undocumented citizens, and others.

And noting this is important.

Because part of being an ally means giving credit where credit is due and never taking credit for the anti-oppressive thinking, writing, theorizing, and action of the marginalized and oppressed.

Which I guess leads me to my point.

10 Things Every ‘Ally’ Needs to Remember

There are lots of ways to be a great “ally” – and innumerable ways to be a terrible one.

But it’s not rocket science.

There are simple things you can keep in mind and do in order to be a better person “currently operating in solidarity with” the marginalized or oppressed.

And while this list is not comprehensive, it’s definitely somewhere to start.

1. Being an Ally is About Listening

As McKenzie puts it, “Shut up and listen.”

As someone striving to be an ally, the most important thing we can do is listen to as many voices of those we’re allying ourselves with as possible. 

Now, does this mean that we should assume that just because, say, one Person of Color said it that it’s the absolutely truth that we should parrot? Absolutely not.

If that were the case, then Don Lemon would clearly speak for all Black people.

But listening to a diversity of marginalized voices can help you understand the core of any given issue.

And it also can help you understand why the opinion of your one Lesbian friend is not necessarily the best defense of your use of heterosexist language.

2.  Stop Thinking of ‘Ally’ as a Noun

Being an ally isn’t a status.

The moment that we decide “I’m an ally,” we’re in trouble.

As Mia McKenzie puts it:

“’Currently operating in solidarity with’ is undeniably an action. It describes what a person is doing in the moment. It does not give credit for past acts of solidarity without regard for current behavior. It does not assume future acts of solidarity. It speaks only to the actions of the present.”

3.  ‘Ally’ is Not a Self-Proclaimed Identity

Really, being an ally is not an identity at all, but it’s vitally important that we understand that we cannot simply decide we are allies.

Being in solidarity is something we can strive for, but in the end, it is the choice of those we are attempting to ally ourselves to as to whether they trust us enough to call us an ally.

Additionally, just because one person considers me an ally, that does not mean that every person of that marginalized identity considers me an ally or should!

Trust is something earned through concerted action, not given simply because of our actions in a particular arena or context.

Read the rest at Everyday Feminism.

Are We Your Wallpaper? An Open Letter to the “New Neighbors” – On Gentrification and White Privilege

This week’s post comes from a friend and a powerful, transformative consultant and counselor, Sherryl Weston.

Sherryl WestonSherryl holds a Master’s in Special Education with a focus on Emotional and Behavioral Disorders and a Master’s in Social Work. Her specialty is biracial/bicultural identity, especially as it relates to U.S. born people of color, new immigrants and refugees. Her clinical focus is on outreach, integration, parenting, maintaining sober relationships, teen sexuality and domestic violence. In her social justice and inclusiveness work, the issues of non-profit outreach, black-brown unity and the effects of internalized oppression are of greatest focus.

Sherryl is the founder of Westcloud Arts and Consulting, a dynamic, culturally-responsive arts, counseling, and consulting firm based in Denver, CO.  Learn more here and read Sherryl’s blog, More Than Cultural Competency, here.

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A White man named Christian Lander has written two books that spoof on (especially well-to-do) White liberals. The most recent is called Whiter Shades of Pale. The one I’ve read was on the NY Times Best Seller lists, called, The Definitive Guide to What White People Like: The Unique Taste of Millions. It was snarky and hilarious. And sad.

#7 Diversity

“White people love ethnic diversity, but only as it relates to restaurants…they send their kids to school with other rich White kids…If you run an ethnic restaurant you can be guaranteed repeat business and huge tips if you act like your White customers are adventurous and cultured for eating food that is not sandwiches or pasta.”

There are many others in Landers’ list that relate to this topic, and I related to the culture ones most. All of them seem to relate to what’s happening in my community.

Now, this is not intended to toss every White person in the same basket, but to highlight the range of issues with a certain segment of White society that seem to be getting in the way of some of the progress we need to make.

And it is the segment that is mislabeled. This group is called “progressive.”  This tends to be the group that is invisible in discussions of the various nuances regarding racism. It tends to be the group that is considered exonerated from participation in privilege and racism. It is the group that is often far ahead of the norm with regard to cross cultural relationships and positive political involvement.

There is a developmental process to becoming the best White ally. Everyone starts in their unique place, but that stepping forward is the virtual peeling of the onion. It’s a stop and go process. It’s a process that some people don’t know that they are on because they think they don’t have any more work to do. Certain segments of the communities of Color hold some of them up as shining examples of how far things have come. Some of them are married to people of color or have transracially adopted. Some segments of the communities of Color don’t realize they exist at all.

This is the group for whom this essay was written.

Sometimes getting where one wants to go is tearful, no fun at all. Is it possible to go to that tough place, then move through without completely dismissing what feels quite painful? Can there be a grain of useful truth in that messiness, held ‘til its proper place is revealed? I ask for self-reflection and patience with that fragile place.

My Experience

I live in a neighborhood that is gentrifying. Other areas of my city have gone through this same process. And many other places in the U.S. have gone through this. But for me it is the first time to see it happening from the “inside.” I don’t like it. For the White gentrifiers, we people of Color appear to be no more than so much colorful wallpaper, the backdrop for their privileged lives, so conveniently separated from the “true bigots,” the “unenlightened” who overtly hate people of color.

So What’s Gentrification? Merriam-Webster defines it this way: the process of renewal and rebuilding accompanying the influx of middle-class or affluent people into deteriorating areas that often displaces poorer residents.

But is where you live some version of a political badge of honor with other White people?

The interesting part of what’s happening in my area is that it’s not just the poorer homes going away, replaced by more elegance. It’s so obvious that the culture is being replaced by a group of people who appear to have no investment in what is already present.

In a university-level Multiculturalism in the U.S. class I was teaching, a student argued that gentrification is good because it adds things to communities where there isn’t anything valuable.  Which speaks volumes to the mindset of gentrification.

Theoretically, other liberal White people move to neighborhoods that have been historically home to the communities of Color, in part, because they want the “more interesting and vibrant scene,” plus the convenience of the city. In my area there still is a political perspective that is generally liberal. It is still is Democratic Party-dominant.

And therein lies the danger.

Changes

Some changes I’ve noticed since the neighborhood has started to shift:

An interesting example of changes that are hard to nail down: Our sweet little post office has always felt to me like something from a small town. The generally easygoing air has a few times now been replaced by what appears to be a White female patron, dressed in that understated expensive way, who is public and sometimes overtly nasty with their entitled impatience for things not moving fast enough. One woman swore because an elderly lady was taking a long time with her questions. I asked her to stop. So did a moderate-looking White lady with her little children, who looked more like the kind of person who has always lived around here. Ms. Privilege swore some more and stormed out. She could have been someone who has lived around here for a long time, but it just didn’t seem like it. She had the “new neighbor air” about her.

Who are the “new neighbors?” What ambiance do they bring? What constitutes an “up and coming” neighborhood?

Generalities:

  • When there is a public event focused at the traditional community, White people are generally not present.
  • Go in the newer establishments and there are generally very few people of Color as patrons. (Look in the kitchen, though.) They are generally packed with customers within the first few days of being open. The prices are higher. The menu has “Americanized” versions of ethnic food or none at all. People are most often wearing plain muted colors, flip flops and sandals – those brands of athletic wear that reveal the price tag. They have designer dogs. They have a couple of smaller kids and super expensive strollers. They don’t go in the couple of people of Color-owned operations that are left.
  • Businesses that remain and are people of Color-owned are doing okay if they are of a certain sort. Seems that they most fit into the categories that Lander has in his list, like “good” coffee and “ethnic” food. But many businesses have left with the Brown neighbors. Some new business owners are of Color but seem so imbedded in what I call the “new neighbor value system” that they are, well, just new neighbors.
  • School district fights involve whether charter schools serve the community as a whole or not. It doesn’t seem to be an accident that charters open as fast as local schools close. The closing of local schools seem to hit families of Color hardest. It doesn’t seem to be an accident that the populations of the neighborhood public schools appear to be getting Browner, not representing the “new neighbor” influx.

A funny one: In my area, new businesses are named after the neighborhood that is actually on the OTHER side of a major roadway. They don’t know the difference? Don’t care?

Even though this particular example was about a neighborhood close by, it makes the point. At a community event I once heard a local standup comic say, “That’s not West Highlands! It’s just the other side of Federal [Boulevard.]”

It is to say, “You folks came here and formalized/renamed/reconfigured things, but WE know what it IS!”

So if this class of White people move to our neighborhoods but don’t want much to do with us, bringing in all of “their own stuff,” then we ARE just so many decorations, nice wallpaper and paintings, the backdrop for the enjoyment of all that money that shifted under the last couple of Presidential administrations.

But I think there are also White people moving in, thinking “the diversity” is one of the things they actually want. But what does that mean?

So, what’s the core issue?

Again, a feature of White privilege is in not having to worry about such matters. And the immediate consequences of such a housing decision can easily go completely unseen or unfelt. It’s the fish-in-water phenomenon: Why should you be able to see what is literally in the air you breathe? But if you truly care about evolving as a member of our multiracial society, you MUST look. Where is that oxygen mask?

Progressive White ally Joe Zemek encapsulated this issue well: “…I think the first critical & immeasurable ingredient is the number of people moving into a neighborhood who value multiculturalism & are geared toward full neighborhood participation & transcultural interaction. Knowledge/availability of resources is key…Where are the places in a neighborhood where we ALL interact–the places that aren’t cultural cocoons… What fosters the initial positive neighbor interaction that sparks discussion & following shared multicultural activities that recreate the neighborhood’s ‘quilt?’…”

What to do about it

Giving some White people the benefit of the doubt, I can point to some issues to start with. (It’s been pointed out to me by White allies that gentrifiers are not good at being honest about their racial/ethnic attitudes. Let’s pretend for a moment that’s not always true):

DO:

1) When you look at a house for purchase OR rent, don’t just research the crime rate and the “conveniences.” Spend some time looking into the history of the neighborhood: its “original” settlers; who most recently has had the largest presence; the Native tribe that might still have a presence; the cultural celebrations that may not be what you will find in the mainstream entertainment guides and newspapers.

2) Drive around the neighborhood, searching for what might be locally-owned businesses. Go in. Buy something, even if it’s a pack of gum. Strike up a general conversation with the clerk about their history with the neighborhood. Listen more than talk.

3) Be honest about what you are afraid of and then spend some time talking with allies about their origin, and what is real and not real about those things;

4) If you have friends of Color, think about how much they are (or are not) attached to their birth cultures. Then ask yourself if you are only comfortable with people of Color who mirror yourself. If that’s true, then asking them what they think will not give you additional insight and you need to think about how else to get clarity about the related issues.

5) Compare where you grew up to the new neighborhood and be honest with yourself about what’s behind why you care (or don’t) about inclusiveness in your intimate life.

6) Spend money at local businesses. Every month. Stay in touch with community organizations and attend their events. The non-profit organizations could especially use your financial support and volunteer hours.

7) Where are the concerts, museums, and cultural offerings where people of Color congregate? Can you be a minority in a group without (however silently) panicking?

8) Look into what you might be taking for granted, like the specific ways you benefit from White privilege or how culturally imbedded norms are about things like work behavior or how to raise children.

And if you are thinking, “Why should I have to do any of that?” or “That’s sounds like too much trouble” or “That makes me mad,” then there is much work to do on yourself.

9) If you are under age 30, it’s pretty common to believe that this is an “old people’s problem.” I’m suggesting that you accept that the problem is actually NOT solved. The issues unresolved by the generation before you has created several issues that I don’t see infrastructure or much language for. Please look at how you can examine this differently.

DON’T:

1) Mislead yourself about affordability of a home being the primary issue. It is a key feature of White privilege not to have to think about the global consequences of the choices you make, so even if this isn’t the first time for your consideration of these issues, then a fuller examination of your liberal-ness is due. If the larger house and/or more convenience are more important than how diverse your intimate world is, it is material possessions that hold more value for you, not being a full participant in an egalitarian multicultural world. People DO forego certain “conveniences” in order to deepen their relational connection to that “better” world or protect their children. You absolutely do have a choice, but be honest with yourself about what it’s really based on.

2) Limit your interest to “everything but the burden,” when it comes to people of Color. Regardless of recent pronouncements, this is not a “post racial” society. And please don’t dismiss this as “one more example of people-of-Color-bitching, when [we] actually have had it pretty good in recent years.”

The existence of the 2003 book Everything But the Burden: What White People are Taking from Black Culture by Greg Tate and the 1957 essay by Norman Mailer The White Negro: Superficial Reflections on the Hipster prove that the issues related to what I’m describing are hardly new. Those two readings might be places to start on your way to deeper examination about where you are coming from as opposed to where you THINK you’ve been coming from.

3) Avoid examining what you’ve accepted as “acting cool.” Be careful of how you use the black vernacular. The supposedly benign use of the “N” word is an obvious one. The clunky mimicking of the improvisation you’ve seen Latinos do when dancing salsa can be another. It’s annoying for us to hear/see parodies of ourselves. There’s a difference between respectful cultural interest and what looks like shoddy, careless stealing.

4) Assume that your international travel or study, missionary work, or service in the Peace Corps is much of a substitute for intentional involvement in the communities of Color in the U.S. One possible element in your role as an “American” abroad is preferential treatment, based on being the world citizen that many worship. The infrastructures of some organizations are not built around addressing topics like Colorism and classism the in their staff training. And as a tourist, depending on how you plan your vacation, you may not actually be getting much more than a “Browner,” U.S. version of life in that country, a setting designed not to disturb your “American” entitlement.

An “I wonder” moment

On the street, during a sunny day, I heard that heart-shaking, thumping bass that makes one wonder if the people in the car can hear themselves think. I turned to see a sleek blue vintage convertible carrying what appeared to be four White guys in conservative grey and blue business suits, crisp White shirts and dark ties. And they, in gleeful unison, were belting out the lyrics to the rap song that was shaking the doors. I couldn’t help but smile.

And my next thought was, “Do they have black friends?” I wonder what points of view have proliferated since these men have become fans of gangsta rap? Research suggests that there are positive and negative outcomes from non-Blacks’ constant exposure. In my view, one of those negatives is that White people learn reinforced stereotypes at the same time they think they are being enlightened. That results in the mindless choices and behaviors among us that have direct and indirect impact on our relationships with you in our neighborhoods and workplaces. A section of an article from the Journal of Broadcasting and Electric Media (March 2009) speaks to this.

So, don’t be a part of perpetuating a problem that, for many years, has been getting in the way of honest and egalitarian cross-cultural relationships. I’m guessing that most of us people of Color really would like to be more than your colorful wallpaper.

5)  Participate in the superficial cultural appropriation that comes with things like White-led sweat lodges, Western (White) Buddhist sanghas, poorly choreographed and executed Zumba classes, the Harlem Shake, or that Blues that is really White rock and roll.

6) Let White guilt immobilize you. Find a therapist who knows these issues and has a clean bill of cross-cultural health.

7) Shoot the messenger.

And it’s going to help us all if we have patience with each other and ourselves as we struggle to coexist.

50 Years Later, A Dream Deferred

As I read through the text of his iconic speech given 50 years ago today, I can’t help but note the ways in which Rev Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s dream remains deferred.  While many of the formal structures of segregation have been abolished, we have simply replaced them with the far more insidious shackles of colorblind ideology that masks inequality to those of us with racial and economic privilege.

Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

50 years ago, King described the reasons for marching 100 years after the Emancipation Proclamation.

One hundred years later, we must face the tragic fact that the Negro is still not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity.

Sadly today we know that people of Color still face the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination.  Our communities are becoming ever more economically segregated, and so long as people of Color remain disproportionately poor, we ensure that King’s dream remains deferred.

It’s sad to see the ways in which the horrors king described are still alive and well in the United States today:

I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow cells. (Today, 1 in 3 Black men are wrapped up in the criminal injustice system of the New Jim Crow).

Some of you have come from areas where your quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. (Today, a Black person is killed by police officers every 40 hours, and extra-judicial killings of Latinos by police are on the rise).

Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair. (Yet 50 years later, not much has changed for those living in these slums and ghettos, whether in the north, the south, or anywhere).

There is much work to do to realize King’s radical dream, yet we do his agency disservice with constant conjecture about what he would or would not support today, and his words, “I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character,” have been hijacked by those who wish to maintain the unjust status quo.

Sadly, the legacy of racial justice in the United States since the March on Washington has been precisely what King warned against:

This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to open the doors of opportunity to all of God’s children. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood.

Gradualism is precisely the drug we’ve taken, and as such, little progress has been made.  We are still fighting to ensure that this republic makes good on its “promissory note to which every American was to fall heir . . . that all men would be guaranteed the inalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”

But we must not lose hope.

And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall march ahead. We cannot turn back. There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, “When will you be satisfied?” . . . We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro’s basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one . . . No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream.” 

The legacy of King’s words in this speech of the March on Washington in general is to remind us of what work we still must do.

Let us not forsake the dream any longer, and let us no longer enforce the passive “peace” of injustice he spoke so powerfully against.

50 years later, let us not forget that King was a radical, a revolutionary, and the March on Washington was a cry for revolution.