I sit at my chair staring at a blank screen. My
mind is lost in thought, wondering what I should write about next. Something
inside me is telling me that I should write another blog post. That same
feeling is telling me that I should write about race. “Ok, feminism,” my mind
argued, “I can write about the sexism I’ve experience since coming out LA and
how it’s different than that of the Midwest.”
“No,”
that feeling inside me whispers, “Race.”
“Ok
so I can write about race, which I have no idea what I’m going to say,” I
thought, “Or I can write about feminism, or being an extrovert (and the
struggle with coming to that term.)”
As
I wrestle with what to write, I look through my pictures on my phone of the
last month in order to generate idea. Disneyland! I can write about going to
Disneyland with Mary. While that day excursion was a fun experience, there is
only so much I can write about. Upon further introspection, I realize that I
must write about race despite my hesitation. In the DOOR program, especially at
DOOR LA, a social phenomenon that we discuss a lot is racial reconciliation. LA
is the city of storytellers, and that includes telling the story of our racial
identity. We are called not only to reconcile with our own racial identity, but
we are called to embrace each other’s racial identities in order to build
bridges with each other.
However,
how am I supposed embrace racial reconciliation if I can’t even reconcile with
my own racial identity? I don’t consider myself hateful towards other races
than my own, and I encourage embracing a world of diversity, but for me race is
extremely difficult to discuss because of my lack of racial identity. I am
white, but I am still struggling to understand what that means.
Being
white does not mean I lounge around by the pool of a local country club as I
sip my Arnold Palmer while my brother plays tennis on the nearby courts. I do
not have a trust fund and I’m not the type of girl to casually wear pearls.
Instead, being white means…
Well, it means that I am born to privilege that I have no
say over. Society indicates that I have an unfair advantage because of the
color of my skin. It makes me feel uncomfortable and guilty. But most
importantly, being white means I can’t talk about my race otherwise it would
feel like I am being racist.
Think about this, if
a group of black people talked about their race, that would be seen as them
having black pride. If a group of Asian people talked about their race that
would be seen as Asian pride. If a group of white people talked about their
race, since they are what society deems “superior”, than it would look bad.
White pride could never exist because the stigma society assigns us tells us
that it’s racist.
So
I’m born into a world of privilege, which I didn’t ask for? I don’t feel
comfortable with the “superiority,” label society has assigned me! And I’m not
even allowed to talk about my whiteness otherwise I’ll be seen as racist?
How am I supposed to
reconcile with that? Looking back, throughout the years I didn’t want to
discuss my whiteness because in many ways I did not feel like I had a racial
identity. The event that actually changed this notion was not an event that
happened this year, but something that happened in college. I have a bachelors
in social work, which means that I took a lot of classes confronting human
behavior and social phenomenon. Talking about race was not a foreign concept to
my during orientation in New York (although the emotional intensity I felt
would say differently.) One of the classes, which ended up being my favorite,
was a summer course “Teaching in a Diverse Society.”
This
class, while it was required for education majors, did not just apply to those
interested in pursuing teaching. In fact, subjects about discussing how or what
to teach was barely discussed. Instead, the course was mainly composed of
theories behind social structures such as race, and the steps taken towards
racial reconciliation. I loved how interactive and nonjudgmental the professor
was, he gave us the space to process what we were needed to personally digest.
During the middle of the course, he asked us what would we do if we woke up as
a different race. I forget what my classmates said, but I told the professor
that I would enjoy that. When he asked why, I told him that being white is
boring and it would be interesting to experience what that would be like. That
generated an interesting discussion, but the main thing I took away from that
discussion was that by saying white is “boring” or “has no culture,” I am
actually being prejudiced towards my own race. How am I supposed to discuss
racial issues with others, if I am prejudiced towards my own race?
While
I was able to confront some of my colorblindness during the class, I still
consider myself having a long way to go before I am comfortable with my own
racial identity. I recognize the bias belief that “being white is boring,” but
I can’t help but feel that way. Regardless of this notion I have, I must be
willing to become comfortable with my own racial identity. Being able to be
comfortable with my own racial identity is the only way I can be sensitive with
others’ racial identities. If I choose to ignore my own racial identity, and
the racial identity of others, then I am choosing to ignore a huge part of a
person’s life. True, you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but if I choose
to ignore one’s racial identity, I am still choosing to ignore one’s identity.
Just because my racial identity isn’t important to me, doesn’t mean that
someone else’s racial isn’t important to them. In order to reconcile with race
and what race means to others, I just be able to reconcile with what race means
to me.
No comments:
Post a Comment