This week has been an emotional ball breaker for me; I’ve been stuffing down my feelings and not wanting to give words to what I was feeling for fear of being seen as a whiner. The danger in writing and talking about race so often is that after a while people stop listening; they truly believe race does not matter when it in fact it matters more than most white people can ever imagine.
I talk about race, as a Black American woman living in a very white state and partnered to an even whiter man, most of my race talks center on Blackness and Whiteness. However as I was recently reminded, being non-white in a culture and space where white is the default is no great shakes either.
Living and working in spaces where there are few people who look like you and where whiteness is the default is hard. When you are privileged with whiteness, the greatest gift of that privilege is that there is so much you never have to see. To be white is to see people of color as exotic beings, it is to assume that afro textured hair is a fad; hell, you don’t even have to know what an afro is…tee-hee. It is the privilege of saying the tackiest and most thoughtless things and knowing that society gives you a pass because you are white. It is to read in spaces such as this where I lay my soul bare in hopes of reaching that other person of color trapped in a white space, in hopes that they will know they are not alone. But whiteness allows you to go on a cultural tour from the comfort of your home, office or mobile device where you get to clutch your pearls about the glimpses of non-white life that spaces such as this allow you to peek into and to be upset over such injustices when it comfortably fits into your life. Whiteness allows you to disconnect when it’s all too much without nary a bit of effort because our culture is designed for the comfort of people like you.
Nonwhite people particularly in all white spaces are watching you avail yourself of the comfort and privilege that this culture affords you. What most of you never see is the high price that we pay to inhabit such spaces. In recent years as the media spotlight has shone negatively on my hometown of Chicago and the issues of violence, whenever someone learns that I am a Chicago native, I hear one of two things “Do you know the Obama’s?” and “I bet with the violence, you are glad you are not in Chicago now” I won’t even address the former, but to the latter, I often think how privileged and myopic to believe that I wouldn’t want to be in my hometown. Truth be told, we would back our bags and leave tomorrow if we did not have a school aged child. Raising a brown child in a space with few people who look like her can be just as dangerous as living in a community with drive-by shootings. One space takes your life in mere moments with a bullet and the other space will slowly rob of your person-hood if you are not diligent and taking precautions to guard against the trauma of being in all white spaces, all the time.
To be a non-white person occupying white space over time takes a toll on the body, mind and spirit. It is quite possible to even lose yourself because you can never be yourself. To be yourself is to allow yourself to be vulnerable with someone who is probably not equipped to see what your life is like. Instead you end up comforting the people who are supposed to comfort you because they have never stepped out of their silo of privilege and what you lay bare to them is too much. Occupying white spaces is to have allies who after a while start to feel like burdens because they simply cannot help carry the load. It is to have people confess to you as if you are their personal therapist that they have racist tendencies and thoughts and watch them dance for your approval cookie and pat on the head.
Occupying white space as a non-white person is to know that my anger and frustration is too hard for many of you to read and knowing some “unprivileged” soul will tell me to suck it up, stop being angry, or some other variation of words that are used to deny non-white people our humanity.
BGL,
I will be following your post. I appreciate and understand your writing. Thank you for you honest words. They are helpful to me.
Listening, paying attention and learning here too.
May I offer a book suggestion to your audience: “Hope Sings, So Beautiful: Graced Encounters Across The Color Line.” It’s available on Amazon and elsewhere….and I have found it extremely helpful. Peace.
I will look this up, thank you for the recommendation.
Here is what I feel…raw is real. I can’t imagine what it must be like to run across people who look at your hair and think it is a ‘fad’ or something that is wrong. I can imagine how it feels for people to meet you and see you as different. I can’t tell you how many times that I have met people who tell me that I am the first Jew they have ever met. Or say something like “Don’t Jew me down” without realizing how ugly that is. Or watch your child be pushed by another child at school while telling her she is a “dirty Jew”. No, I can’t totally understand how it feels to be Black….and have people respond to you in racist ways. But I can tell you that whatever you say and how you respond is OK. It needs to be heard. You have courage for standing up and saying it. You are truly an important blogger because your commentary about what it means to be Black in a White society is honest. Don’t lose that.
Judy, as always thank you for your kind work. You often remind me of the connections and challenges that exist within all marginalized communities.
I lived in bangor and portland as a black male. I get it
Listening here, too.
This is a beautiful post.
I’m a white woman raising two black children, and an Indian child that 90% of white people assume is black. We recently moved to a new state and chose to buy a house in a more diverse area neighborhood than we’d previously lived in. I’ll be honest, I was initially nervous about the crime etc that comes with an economically mixed community, but now that we are here, I am so happy, for myself and my kids. People who look like me are in the minority in our zip code and my kids get to blend in with the majority, and they LOVE it. I’m so thankful we moved. I also used to live in New Hampshire, so I appreciate what you are up against as a person of color in Maine. Please continue to lift up your voice. And thank you.
Economically mixed area can be unnerving but I think such spaces can make for rich experiences despite the uncertainty. I applaud you for making that choice, I think it is important for kids to feel comfortable and not always feel the tension that comes from being the only one.
It looks like you have started to say something here.
Like this is the beginning, or opening, to something bigger.
Look forward to hearing more.
Thank you, it does feel like there is more to say, it is a work in progress I believe.
Glad to discover you.
Thanks so much for your continued willingness, and bravery to share your experiences and feelings about living in Maine. Honestly, I don’t know what I would do if I were in your position but I hear you, and I’m listening. I’ll keep reading your posts no matter where you’re located.
just letting you know that i’m listening
BGIM, I find your posts about race quite moving.I understand and appreciate the difficulty that you find yourself in but more importantly I hear you. What I also hear though is that you have a tough situation figuring out how to raise your daughter in a sometimes unforgiving environment. This seems to be your charge. Maybe this is why you are here. To figure it out for you, your daughter’s and your reader’s sakes. You are on a journey, as we all are, to figure it out! So figure it out! Figure out a way to explain to your daughter that her current environment is only a slice of what life has to offer and that she will meet many more interesting, different people on her journey. Good luck and keep writing your truth! Cheers!
I do think that for a season of life it was my charge to be here. I most certainly have learned a lot and had my own eyes opened. I will take my experiences with me, no matter where I land.