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Friday, June 19, 2015

What the Rachel Dolezal Controversy is Teaching Me About Racism

Regarding Rachel Dolezal claiming she is transracial and identifies as black, I feel like I don't have any grounds to say whether or not she can actually be black (seeing as I'm white), and I said my piece about how her situation relates to being transgender in a Facebook post here.

But that's not to say I haven't been doing a lot of thinking about her situation and whether it is actually possible for a human being to cross the divide between black and white. Many voices are saying no - transracial adoptees disputing Ms. Dolezal's use of that word, black women saying that she can't possibly know the struggles of growing up as a black woman, or comprehend the full weight of racist oppression without having lived under it her whole life.

I'm hesitant to disagree with those voices. After all, they know a heck of a lot more about being black and transracial than I do.

And yet, I'm also hesitant to agree, because so much of the criticism leveled at Ms. Dolezal sounds eerily similiar to the criticisms and attitudes hurled at trans women by some feminists and some segments of society - they can't really be women, because they were socialized male and didn't experience the oppression of sexism before transitioning.

Of course, I don't think that the situations of Ms. Dolezal and of transgender women are totally analogous. There are differences. But there are also some similarities, and so I hesitate to throw Ms. Dolezal under the bus for reasons that sound so much like other people's reasons for hating, fearing and hurting transgender women.

My thinking on this is informed by Julia Serano's Whipping Girl, in which she asserts that sexism, the devaluing of women and the reducing of them to sex objects, is at the root of transmisogyny as well as homophobia and society's general derision toward any sort of femininity on the part of those who are assigned male. Again, the situations of Rachel Dolezal and transgender women aren't totally analogous, but it seems pretty clear that racism is a key part of the controversy around Ms. Dolezal. After all, if I, a person of Finnish ancestry, were to claim to be Swedish instead, it would be a lie and might get me in some trouble, but it wouldn't generate nearly the amount of controversy surrounding Ms. Dolezal (at least not in this country, and even in Finland and Sweden, the tensions between people of Finnish and Swedish origin and/or native language aren't nearly as volatile as the tension between black and white here in the U.S.). It is pretty clear that the issue of race, of white privilege and entitlement and of black degradation and suffering, is at the heart of this controversy, and it is the real malady of our society, of which Rachel Dolezal's situation is only a symptom.

And so, instead of talking about Ms. Dolezal over much, I wanted to talk about racism itself. And since I'm on the privileged end of the race issue, and perhaps therefore have less insight than the people who are suffering because of racism, I thought I'd do that by highlighting some keen things written by people of color about racism that I've read thanks to this controversy.

Indeed, if racism didn't exist, then perhaps it wouldn't be such a problem for people to identify as whatever they wish. The thing is, the issue of racism does exist, as pointed out by Syreeta MacFadden in a column in The Guardian:
...to argue that real parity between race and ethnic groups in the United States exists – and can be exchanged one-on-one – is to deny protections for those groups marginalized by institutional power.
She goes on to point out, though, that race and racial identity aren't always clear cut, and that the racial history and racial mixing of this country are as relevant to white people as to black people:
Black America is quite familiar with the complex fluidity of racial and ethnic identity within our families, because we live most directly with the legacy of four centuries of intergenerational chattel slavery in the United States. But while that history of slavery is often positioned by white people and American society as my history, not our history, that is a stupid delineation: the evidence of black or white blood, relationships and rape, flow fairly seamlessly in my bloodline and in white Americans’.
This complexity is perhaps sometimes (often?) invisible to white people, especially to someone like me who is a first generation immigrant from Europe. And yet, if you go way back, I likely have some Central Asian blood in me. Also, no matter where I was born, now that I'm living in this country, the history of slavery should not be ignored, for its effects are still in force today - no matter where I came from, the system of white privilege treats me the same. And the system of racism, the very way we talk about it, ignores that this society in fact holds a continuum, or perhaps more like a cloud, of different skin tones and cultural backgrounds. The institution of racism would have us divide everyone into black and white, when in fact that's not always so clear.

Ms. McFadden quotes Nell Irwin Painter's book The History of White People to make another astute point about racism, which is that it's not so much about black and white, as about black and non-black:
Painter notes that criteria for “race” constantly “shift according to individual taste and political need” and “the fundamental black/white binary endures even though the category of whiteness – or we might say more precisely, a category of nonblackness – effectively expands.” The opposite of whiteness is presumed “alien” or “degenerate”; the opposite of blackness is the presumed moral majority. It is a thinking that denies the value of black people, and limits our acceptance. 
In essence, in U.S. society, black people are considered the ultimate "other," while all other groups are considered more or less part of the norm, the "moral majority," as Ms. McFadden puts it. And such othering, while dehumanizing and unjust, also denies the racial complexity of our society.

I noticed an aspect of that othering in a recent video by vlogger Kat Blaque:
Part of being a black woman in this world is coping with anti-blackness, and the self hate that comes from living in a Euro centric society. Many black women have to go through a journey of self acceptance and love, because they’re taught from day one that their natural features are not beautiful. That is part of the black female experience in this society.
(Note: in that video, Kat Blaque talks a lot about how Rachel Dolezal's situation compares to being transgender. I thought the way she talked about gender was a bit confusing or misleading, though, and that was what led to my post comparing gender and race.)

And then there's this post by Laura Collins Lyster-Mensh on Huffington Post's blog. A person of mixed heritage herself, she argues that the color line, the division between black and white, is "a racist concept based on racial ancestry being some sort of poison to 'white' people you can dilute but not eliminate," and notes that "'White' ancestry does not have the same effect on 'black.'" There is no such thing, she goes on to say, as "really black." "Race doesn't exist, biologically, only as a social construct," she writes, because so, so many of us are of mixed heritage. The insistence on upholding the division between white and black, on classifying anyone with any African blood as black, is a racist tactic to keep black separate from white, and to keep anyone with this "stain" in the black camp. This is because the color line is "one-way," as she puts it - people with any black heritage are allowed to identify as black, but not so for identifying as white. And, Ms. Lyster-Mensh notes, Rachel Dolezal "upsets those who think they should be able to tell the difference by looking. Society wants not only to maintain the color line but to keep one side of it easy to identify."

"There is such a thing as racial identity," Ms. Lyster-Mensh writes, but "it is not genetic. It exists because society thinks there is such a thing as 'black' and 'white' and benefits from those concepts. Post-racism there would be no passing or choosing."

Ms. Lyster-Mensh's description of her own identity resonated with me, not only because some of her statements ring true to my own, different struggles with identity, but because I have a racially mixed daughter, and so I have at times thought about how she will identify when she's older, and whether we are moving toward a post-racial society where many people are a blend. Here is how Ms. Lyster-Mensh describes herself and her own hopes for the future:
How do I self-identify? If asked, as neither. I'm not "black" and I'm not "white." I reject the terms and the identities offered to me. Do people look at me and make assumptions? Yes. I can't help that. I could take the Dolezal route and play up certain hair and lifestyle choices that could push me over the color line, of course; many people of my skin tone do. I could also deliberately "pass" as many mixed people historically have, taking advantage of mainstream racial privilege by denying my family ties. You can say that I'm doing the latter by not deliberately choosing one, considering my appearance, but I actually reserve the right to be myself. I expect the next generation, even more mixed, will too. The color line is fading.
I really love the line, "I reserve the right to be myself." It is something we should all be able to do. I also know from the experience of trying to live as gender non-binary, that it can be difficult when the rest of the world insists on assigning labels to you. We are certainly not at a point, either with regard to race or gender, where living without labels, but just as yourself, is an easy option, and for many people isn't realistic, either.

And I'm not saying that gender differences, or cultural differences between different groups, should be eliminated. The unique things that each person, gender, or culture brings to our world are fabulous and make our world richer. We don't need to all be the same. But to see unjust divisions between groups of people eradicated, to acknowledge that we are all intermingled and interconnected, could only create a better world, and make it safe for all people to be themselves, however that may be.

While there are a lot of practical things we can do to end racism and discrimination, we also need to change our fundamental ways of thinking if we're to uproot this problem once and for all. Controversies like Rachel Dolezal's will only be skin deep, and any results only bandages, unless we open ourselves up to consider the gaping wound of prejudice beneath. We need a bit of the Daoist philosophy of duality and unity, of different parts coming together to make a seamless whole. After all, whether black or white, we are all Americans, and we are all human. At the same time, no matter whether people of the same race, or different, or mixed, we are all different from each other. And we are all beautiful and have something to contribute.

I feel like I'm stating the obvious when I say that the Rachel Dolezal controversy is just the alarm bell; that the real emergency is the pernicious institution of racism that affects all of us. And I am not trying to take away from people who decry Ms. Dolezal's actions as an abuse of privilege, because I sympathize with their outrage and think the discussions they start about race and privilege are very worth having. Yet I also think that the underlying issue bears remembering, because not a one of us but Ms. Dolezal herself can decide how she lives her life; but battling racism, discrimination, and white privilege is something that all of us can do, so that one day, there will be no need for such controversies.

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