Stop fighting racism with more racism

Thursday, May 28, 1998

Stop fighting racism with more racism

DEROGATION: Splintering support by name-calling won’t right past
wrongs

By Kimberly Mackesy

A couple days ago, I had the dubious distinction of experiencing
what most white people never do. I felt what it was like to be on
the receiving end of racism – and what an ugly sight it was. At the
anti-Proposition 209 rally on May 19, I listened as a derogatory
remark was leveled straight at white people. Even worse than the
comment itself was the remark’s enthusiastic, laudatory reception
by the very crowd that – only minutes before – condemned a
wisecrack made in the exact same vein.

It started out as a good day. I woke up bright and early, stoked
to be heading out to join the crusade against injustice. I went to
my friend Ed’s to make signs for the protest over breakfast. As we
laid blue and yellow paint on posterboard, we discussed the issues
passionately and optimistically.

I couldn’t understand, I told him, why more liberal whites
weren’t standing up against Proposition 209 and the drastic drop in
the admissions numbers of underrepresented students. Is it because
they can’t see the big picture; i.e. that having a diverse student
body adds not only to classroom dialogue, but to learning outside
the classroom as well? (Because, as any student more than
half-awake will tell you, most of the important stuff you learn in
college takes place outside of class).

I told him how my perspective – indeed, my life – has been
changed by learning from my non-white friends about the
experiences, trials and triumphs of other peoples’ movements and
daily lives. I’d like to think that what I’ve learned has made me a
more understanding, compassionate and better-educated person than I
was when I arrived at UCLA. We don’t live in a vacuum, I said. Ed
agreed.

I thought it over as we walked to the protest. Granted, I knew
that my reasons for opposing Proposition 209 were different from
those of most of the other protesters. I’m fighting against
factionalization and ignorant prejudice brought about by
homogeneity; they’re fighting to give their younger brothers and
sisters a fighting chance themselves. But both motives are pure, I
thought. There’s no reason we shouldn’t be able to unite.

I’m still amazed by how far off I was. I listened to inspiring,
eloquent speeches by representatives from student groups and an
alumnus. Next came a professor who walked out of Chancellor
Carnesale’s inauguration after another professor made the
now-infamous "Queen of Sheba" remark, taken as a racist attack on
USAC president Kandea Mosley (whose peaceful protest I
commend).

Soon after, UFW leader Dolores Huerta came to the microphone. I
applauded as loudly as the rest; she is a woman whose active
promotion of social justice had earned my admiration and respect.
But she – and the rest of the crowd – let me down.

She addressed some counter-protesters, who were holding American
and Californian flags in addition to Proposition 209 signs. "When I
walked by there, I was snow-blinded," she said. The crowd erupted
into hollers, cheers and vehement applause, which grew even louder
when she added, "They are so white!" She even made an "Oreo"
reference to the only non-white counter-protester, also met by
applause.

I was stunned. I just stood there, lamely holding my sign while
everyone around me laughed, cheered and encouraged her racist
remarks. I didn’t know what to do. All I knew was that I didn’t
want to let that comment keep me from protesting for what I
believe, so I stayed.

It ate me up for two full days, though. It was "Queen of Sheba"
all over again, but now that the skin color of the insulted was
different it was somehow fine with everyone. I really wanted to
just let it go. I could foresee the slew of anger that would (and
may still) be directed at me if I spoke up about the obvious
hypocrisy of denouncing racist comments directed at people of color
while encouraging those directed at whites. I could foresee the
anger if I spoke up about the hypocrisy of assuming that there’s
something intrinsically wrong with being born white while fighting
the same brand of prejudice when it’s aimed at one’s own.

So I did what I always do when something gets to me – I talked
to my best friend and my roommate about it. "Welcome to my world,"
my best friend said. (She’s Chicana.)

"Welcome to what it feels like to be a minority. Welcome to what
I feel every day. Every time I turn on the TV, every time I open a
magazine, every time I look at a billboard."

She told me about how one day at work her TV news station ran a
story on teen pregnancy. After no Chicano/Latino representation for
days on end, lo and behold, she said, a slew of teenage Latina
mothers graced the screen. This is only one example of the racism
and prejudice, she said, that exist everywhere, all the time. So
welcome to the world. And she was right. I felt what people of
color feel daily, and it hurt like hell. To feel actively
disrespected. To feel insulted. To feel thoroughly
misunderstood.

Just as hurtful as that, though, was knowing that there is a
mass of people out there who see nothing wrong with this. I could
picture the reactions I’d get if I spoke up. We feel this all the
time, what do you have to complain about? We’ve been getting this
and worse for hundreds of years from your people, so why should you
be immune? Good, now you finally know how it feels, now you’re
finally getting a taste of your own.

I understand (on an intellectual rather than experiential level,
of course) how centuries-long histories of racist oppression could
lead to these kinds of feelings. I want to be forgiving, because I
do know that it could be (and has been for those oppressed) so much
worse. But in the end, after pondering with and without my friends
how the scars of racism can be healed over the long term, I’ve come
back around to believing in my original reaction: bullshit!

Bullshit, because it’s so plainly short-sighted. The way to
combat racism is not through reactionary name-calling, not through
making others feel as hurt and trampled on as you do. It’s through
fostering understanding. It is only when people of color can learn
to treat people of other colors with dignity and respect that we
can expect to live in peace.

Ironically, I believe now more than ever that affirmative action
is the way to achieve this – only through breaking down the
barriers of race homogeneity can people truly learn to be
understanding, compassionate and conscientious.

But we all need to realize that the problem of homogeneity is a
two-way street. Just as I can never experientially understand what
it’s like to grow up in the ghetto, so people of color cannot
experientially understand what it’s like to grow up a white liberal
in a 99 percent white town of conservative, racist
home-on-the-range types. We can only understand through others.

The answer is not to let our lack of firsthand experience
fracture us into groups of hypocritical name-callers, but to make
sure we all have the chance to be around others who can combat the
lack of understanding that is its natural outgrowth. Just as I
recognize that I needed UCLA’s diversity to better understand (as
much as one who hasn’t lived through it herself can) what it’s like
to be a person of color, so do people of color need to be around
those who aren’t of their own racial cadre to better understand
what it feels like to be seen as a racist
corporate-money-grubber-to-be.

Understanding is the only thing that can change a hardened heart
to a humane one. We all need each other to end racism. I suspect
that one of the reasons I saw only a handful of white people at the
protest is because we don’t feel welcome in the movement against
racist attitudes and policies, even though we may recognize
ourselves that it is one of the most important. To those who
cheered on Mrs. Huerta’s racist remarks, thanks for the eye-opener.
Hopefully the time will come when I can protest alongside my
brothers and sisters of all races without feeling unwelcome. But
until that day comes, I’ll be the first to admit that my own skin
isn’t thick enough to deal with the stuff. It shouldn’t have to be.
I’ll still vote against Proposition 227 and other racist
initiatives that come down the pipe the same way I voted against
Propositions 209 and 187. But I won’t be at a meeting of the
Affirmative Action Coalition anytime soon. I hate to say it, but if
you want me, you can find me in the labor movement or NORML. Where
I’m wanted.