Confessions of a White Girl: My Education in Racism

I’m still learning. Three little words from a friend’s Facebook post. So perfect. So honest. So humble. She wants to help, to be of support, and affect change after the racially-charged events of the last few weeks. She is wasn’t sure how to do it, nor was she sure what to say that wouldn’t accidentally offend or hurt. So she admitted:

I’m still learning.

I was born in a suburb of Minneapolis. Soon thereafter my family moved to small-town Minnesota, and then on to central Iowa. All lily-white. Practically see-through white, given the northern-European heritage of the region. For as long as I can remember, there were just one or two families of color in the school district. From my perspective, they seemed well-accepted into our fold and I was acquainted with the kids. But of course I noticed they looked different. I remember thinking how brave these families were and wondering why they would want to be somewhere where they were highly noticeable. I knew I didn’t like attention for simply wearing glasses. When I got them my second grade teacher made a big fuss over the “new student.” It was horrible. So why would anyone want to bring attention to themselves by appearing different in a way they couldn’t change?

And yes, I was sheltered. And not just because I was an only child. Being raised in a small Iowa town meant my (and most everyone else’s) life and routine were defined by the same bland and unchanging culture. Even so, my parents raised me to see people. Not to not see color, but to see people. In the vacuum of a community where “nothing happens” it was easy to accept. The civil rights movement and Martin Luther King were narratives in a history book. Racism was unacceptable but treated academically, two decades in the past and occurring in a part of the country that no one I knew ever visited, far away from the gently rolling fields of Iowa. We were a sea of middle-west white with rare exception. There was no friction to face. But if there was, I didn’t see it. (But I also didn’t see the pot problem, either.)

In the mid 1980’s, the University of Iowa basketball team boasted two talented players dubbed “the twin towers.” They were great fun to watch and contributed to several winning seasons. For some reason, those players showed up one day in our middle school gym over lunchtime. I remember my best friend at the time announcing, “There’s two great big black guys in the gym!” Acceptable vernacular for the time. And as I joined the growing mass of giddy tweens waiting to get autographs, I recall marveling more at my heroes’ height than their blackness: they were a good foot-and-a-half taller than me. And Iowa celebrities. Decades later, I wonder what struggles Greg Stokes and Michael Payne brought with them to a mostly white campus. What adversities they faced there because they were men of color. And where they are now.

I won’t deny noticing color. We all see it, the most prominent physical human trait. We could say color doesn’t matter but that’s an easy, careless statement for the privileged white, who are not the subject of, to use the current crisis as an example, law enforcement prejudice. Because, oh yes, color does in fact matter. A people’s color makes a huge difference in how they experience the world and how the world treats them. So it’s not enough to personally accept, and proclaim that acceptance of the melanin rainbow. Words only go so far. We need to be moved to action when people of color say “calling 911 isn’t for people like me.” We need to change our mindset when asked to not turn BLM into “All lives matter.” And we especially to listen when we are given the WHY behind these statements. We must keep learning. And we must ask questions, even the hard ones. We be contrite enough to ask forgiveness when the words don’t come out right. And apologize, saying,

I’m still learning.

It is said that knowledge is power. If so, then the greater our knowledge, then the greater our power. Power, in this case, to move toward real change (demand better from law enforcement, support the enhancement of social support for communities in need) that goes beyond embracing our physical differences and toward making life fair, just and safe for everyone.

Two videos that will get you in the gut:

Michael Che’s interview with Seth Myers on BLM:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Soys9RmGd8

John Oliver discusses the police and hands the wrap-up over to a Kimberly Jones, an author with a powerful message:

Important note: I will never profess that I have the best words. Please know I’m trying my best to express my support for those who are hurting, and in need of and deserve so much better. If I’m failing, please call me out on my words because I do want to know. So many of us do want to know.

We are all still learning.