So a few weeks ago a Facebook friend posted a link to a Huffington Post blog about how white people are not saying the right things to their kids about race. The author took issue with phrases like “We are all equal,” and “we’re all the same under our skin.” I would agree that those are platitudes that don’t offer any perspective on the realities of racism in this country or the experiences of people of color. Having taught for several years on a predominantly white, predominately wealthy college campus, I can tell you that most of these white (often liberal) college students do not understand anything about what it means to be not-white. And these are writers, actors, artists: people who are essentially majoring in empathy and expression. My issue with the Huffington Post blog is that it offered no answers. It pointed out the inadequacies in the way white people teach their kids about race, but offered no suggestions of what might be better.
So I’m going to go out on a limb here and suggest a few ways in which one can help ones white children understand the sticky mess that is race-relations in this country.
1. Explain to your children that while all people are created equal, not everyone is treated equally. And explain it early. And often. Children have an acute sense of what’s fair and what’s not fair. They keep score constantly. If it is made clear to them that people with brown skin are not treated the same way as they are, they will understand fundamentally what racism is and know it’s not fair. But you have to show, not just tell.
My son’s insistence on dressing like a complete slob is what prompted an interesting discussion (ok, maybe lecture) on race. My kid hates looking nice. He doesn’t want his hair short, or neat. Button-down/collared shirts are to be shunned and left unworn. Showers are anathema to him. On the rare occasion that I take him to a nice restaurant, he wears a T-shirt and track pants, and the waitstaff doesn’t judge him too harshly because he’s cute and polite and he eats his food. And because he’s white. He’s a white male in a society dominated by white males, and so even though he’s not dressed as nicely as I want him to be, no one’s going to kick us out of the restaurant or even bestow us with side-long glances. But I’m under no delusion that things would definitely be the same if we all walked into that restaurant with brown skin.
So, we were in the car a few months ago, driving home. And there was a guy, a black guy, walking down the sidewalk wearing the jeans-below-the-butt look (a gravity-defying fashion that continues to mystify me) and a doo-rag. I say to my son, “You see that guy? The way he’s dressed, most people are going to assume he’s a thug. He may even be daring people to think he’s a thug, even if he’s not one. But people judge him by his clothes, by how he presents himself to the world. People are wary of him and probably don’t trust him because of how he dresses. AND because he has brown skin. If he was white and dressed like that people would think he was a stupid poseur, but they might not assume he’s a thug.”
“Now, you know those black kids in your class who wear their hair super short and dress really nicely all the time?” I continue. Yes, he says. “Their mothers know that those judgments are made, and they don’t want anyone to judge their kids; they want their kids to be thought of as the nice kids that they are, and so they insist that they look up to a certain standard every day. And for school concerts and special events, those kids are in suits, ties, polished shoes, things you don’t even own. And those parents are going to exert that control as long as they can. Because they know their kids are scrutinized, held to a different standard. But even more than that, it’s about survival. Kids of color have been shot for wearing the wrong colors in the wrong neighborhood, for wearing expensive shoes, for wearing a hoodie.
“Now, you can walk around looking like you do every day, all sloppy and floppy and not matching, you can wear your hoodie, and the worst thing anyone’s going to think about you as you get older is that you’re a skate rat. You’d have to get a lot of tattoos and piercings before people jumped to the conclusion that you were a thug, or daring them to think you were a thug. And that’s privilege. You get away with looking like a slob because you’re a white male, but some of your classmates don’t have that choice. Is that fair?”
No, he says. That’s not fair. And I get less flack when I ask him to comb his hair. For a few weeks.
2. Read To Kill a Mockingbird with your kids.
My son and I read this book together this past summer, and it prompted so many conversations about race, class, the “n word,” sexual assault. Yes, these are difficult topics, but it’s your job as a parent to talk to your kids about these things, so grow a pair and do it.
As fate would have it the Trayvon Martin trial was going on while we read the book. To Kill a Mockingbird was published over 50 years ago. It’s set in 1936, and as most people know, one of its main story lines is a trial where an innocent black man is found guilty. And this inevitable tragedy happens “because of the times,” because of the times they lived in “back then.” And as we read about Tom Robinson we talked about Trayvon Martin and how even though we have a black president now, in many ways nothing has changed. How in some ways Trayvon Martin was on trial even though he was killed. And isn’t that tragic and horrible and sad and wrong.
The worst part of reading To Kill a Mockingbird out loud is saying the “n word,” over and over again. It hurt my soul a little bit every time I uttered it (which I told my son), but it felt wrong to the poetry of the book to omit it or say “the n word,” every time. But ultimately it was a good opportunity to say, “Look, this word, white people can’t say this word. It is the pinnacle of racism. But most people know that, so even racist people don’t use this word anymore. Racism is quieter and more subtle now in this world of political correctness. Racism is people of color being followed in stores, and treated differently in hotels, and not given jobs. But just because it’s quieter doesn’t mean it’s not just as pervasive or just as hurtful.”
I’m certain there are dozens of books written by minorities that would also serve this function, but I do think a book written from the perspective of a white child trying to make sense of the world she lives in makes To Kill a Mockingbird exceptionally accessible.
3. Live in a diverse community.
I realize this is a tough one, that no one is going to get up and move, but in case you’re thinking about moving soon and you have kids, consider moving someplace where your kids will actually know some minorities. And not just wealthy Asian kids. We chose a home where our neighborhood school is approximately 1/3 white, 1/3 black, and 1/3 Latino. And I say “black” and not African-American, because there are several kids in the school who are (or whose parents are) from African or Carribean nations. In fact, many of the white kids have parents who emigrated from Europe. It’s a diverse school. Multi-Cultural night is very fun.
Intolerance festers in homogeneous communities where everyone outside is consider “other,” and therefore undesirable and scary. I grew up in one of those homogeneous communities and saw a lot of intolerance first hand, some of it directed at me. Tolerance and understanding are born in places where people are forced to confront differences and also see that, despite those differences, people are generally just people. But also important, it’s much easier to talk about race and racism, entitlement and privilege when you can reference people that your child knows and use your children’s own lives as context.
So those are three ways I’ve found to help my kid understand the realities of racism. I’m sure there are more. I feel very strongly that when talking to our white children about disparity, it’s just as important to make them aware of their privilege and freedom as it is to make them aware of the disadvantages of others.
The day that Obama was inaugurated the first time, I had taught class that day at the predominantly-white, predominantly-wealthy university I mentioned earlier. And one of my white students — a liberal, kind, open-minded student — said he didn’t understand why the news stations insisted on showing “all that footage of black people” in black churches and wasn’t this a victory for all of us? Why was it SO different for black people?
Oh my god, I could barely speak. I was so stunned by his ignorance, by his total lack of awareness of the black experience in America. I think what I said was, “If you don’t understand, I don’t know how to explain it to you,” and we moved on. And it was a grave disservice to the one African-American student in the class (I sent her a lengthy apology email that night), but I was so flabbergasted I couldn’t think straight. I was not capable of a diplomatic answer in that moment. Here is what I wish I had said:
When my best friend from high school had her daughter she told me she cried. She cried because she thought, “my daughter will never be President.” And I thought, “Really? Don’t you think in our lifetime we’ll see a woman president in this country?” But I also thought, “Wow, every minority in America must think that when they have a child.” It’s got to be demoralizing to bring a life into this world and feel that not everything is possible for them.
I vividly remember walking my son to school the day after Obama was elected the first time, and the looks on the faces of every black mother I passed that morning, beaming with pride and joy and relief. And I thought, they must have all woken up and looked at their sons and thought, “Baby, you can be President someday. Sky’s the limit.” Maybe they even said it out loud. And sure, maybe they couldn’t look at their daughters and think the same thing, but maybe soon. Hopefully soon.
So I’m going to go out on a limb here and suggest a few ways in which one can help ones white children understand the sticky mess that is race-relations in this country.
1. Explain to your children that while all people are created equal, not everyone is treated equally. And explain it early. And often. Children have an acute sense of what’s fair and what’s not fair. They keep score constantly. If it is made clear to them that people with brown skin are not treated the same way as they are, they will understand fundamentally what racism is and know it’s not fair. But you have to show, not just tell.
My son’s insistence on dressing like a complete slob is what prompted an interesting discussion (ok, maybe lecture) on race. My kid hates looking nice. He doesn’t want his hair short, or neat. Button-down/collared shirts are to be shunned and left unworn. Showers are anathema to him. On the rare occasion that I take him to a nice restaurant, he wears a T-shirt and track pants, and the waitstaff doesn’t judge him too harshly because he’s cute and polite and he eats his food. And because he’s white. He’s a white male in a society dominated by white males, and so even though he’s not dressed as nicely as I want him to be, no one’s going to kick us out of the restaurant or even bestow us with side-long glances. But I’m under no delusion that things would definitely be the same if we all walked into that restaurant with brown skin.
So, we were in the car a few months ago, driving home. And there was a guy, a black guy, walking down the sidewalk wearing the jeans-below-the-butt look (a gravity-defying fashion that continues to mystify me) and a doo-rag. I say to my son, “You see that guy? The way he’s dressed, most people are going to assume he’s a thug. He may even be daring people to think he’s a thug, even if he’s not one. But people judge him by his clothes, by how he presents himself to the world. People are wary of him and probably don’t trust him because of how he dresses. AND because he has brown skin. If he was white and dressed like that people would think he was a stupid poseur, but they might not assume he’s a thug.”
“Now, you know those black kids in your class who wear their hair super short and dress really nicely all the time?” I continue. Yes, he says. “Their mothers know that those judgments are made, and they don’t want anyone to judge their kids; they want their kids to be thought of as the nice kids that they are, and so they insist that they look up to a certain standard every day. And for school concerts and special events, those kids are in suits, ties, polished shoes, things you don’t even own. And those parents are going to exert that control as long as they can. Because they know their kids are scrutinized, held to a different standard. But even more than that, it’s about survival. Kids of color have been shot for wearing the wrong colors in the wrong neighborhood, for wearing expensive shoes, for wearing a hoodie.
“Now, you can walk around looking like you do every day, all sloppy and floppy and not matching, you can wear your hoodie, and the worst thing anyone’s going to think about you as you get older is that you’re a skate rat. You’d have to get a lot of tattoos and piercings before people jumped to the conclusion that you were a thug, or daring them to think you were a thug. And that’s privilege. You get away with looking like a slob because you’re a white male, but some of your classmates don’t have that choice. Is that fair?”
No, he says. That’s not fair. And I get less flack when I ask him to comb his hair. For a few weeks.
2. Read To Kill a Mockingbird with your kids.
My son and I read this book together this past summer, and it prompted so many conversations about race, class, the “n word,” sexual assault. Yes, these are difficult topics, but it’s your job as a parent to talk to your kids about these things, so grow a pair and do it.
As fate would have it the Trayvon Martin trial was going on while we read the book. To Kill a Mockingbird was published over 50 years ago. It’s set in 1936, and as most people know, one of its main story lines is a trial where an innocent black man is found guilty. And this inevitable tragedy happens “because of the times,” because of the times they lived in “back then.” And as we read about Tom Robinson we talked about Trayvon Martin and how even though we have a black president now, in many ways nothing has changed. How in some ways Trayvon Martin was on trial even though he was killed. And isn’t that tragic and horrible and sad and wrong.
The worst part of reading To Kill a Mockingbird out loud is saying the “n word,” over and over again. It hurt my soul a little bit every time I uttered it (which I told my son), but it felt wrong to the poetry of the book to omit it or say “the n word,” every time. But ultimately it was a good opportunity to say, “Look, this word, white people can’t say this word. It is the pinnacle of racism. But most people know that, so even racist people don’t use this word anymore. Racism is quieter and more subtle now in this world of political correctness. Racism is people of color being followed in stores, and treated differently in hotels, and not given jobs. But just because it’s quieter doesn’t mean it’s not just as pervasive or just as hurtful.”
I’m certain there are dozens of books written by minorities that would also serve this function, but I do think a book written from the perspective of a white child trying to make sense of the world she lives in makes To Kill a Mockingbird exceptionally accessible.
3. Live in a diverse community.
I realize this is a tough one, that no one is going to get up and move, but in case you’re thinking about moving soon and you have kids, consider moving someplace where your kids will actually know some minorities. And not just wealthy Asian kids. We chose a home where our neighborhood school is approximately 1/3 white, 1/3 black, and 1/3 Latino. And I say “black” and not African-American, because there are several kids in the school who are (or whose parents are) from African or Carribean nations. In fact, many of the white kids have parents who emigrated from Europe. It’s a diverse school. Multi-Cultural night is very fun.
Intolerance festers in homogeneous communities where everyone outside is consider “other,” and therefore undesirable and scary. I grew up in one of those homogeneous communities and saw a lot of intolerance first hand, some of it directed at me. Tolerance and understanding are born in places where people are forced to confront differences and also see that, despite those differences, people are generally just people. But also important, it’s much easier to talk about race and racism, entitlement and privilege when you can reference people that your child knows and use your children’s own lives as context.
So those are three ways I’ve found to help my kid understand the realities of racism. I’m sure there are more. I feel very strongly that when talking to our white children about disparity, it’s just as important to make them aware of their privilege and freedom as it is to make them aware of the disadvantages of others.
The day that Obama was inaugurated the first time, I had taught class that day at the predominantly-white, predominantly-wealthy university I mentioned earlier. And one of my white students — a liberal, kind, open-minded student — said he didn’t understand why the news stations insisted on showing “all that footage of black people” in black churches and wasn’t this a victory for all of us? Why was it SO different for black people?
Oh my god, I could barely speak. I was so stunned by his ignorance, by his total lack of awareness of the black experience in America. I think what I said was, “If you don’t understand, I don’t know how to explain it to you,” and we moved on. And it was a grave disservice to the one African-American student in the class (I sent her a lengthy apology email that night), but I was so flabbergasted I couldn’t think straight. I was not capable of a diplomatic answer in that moment. Here is what I wish I had said:
When my best friend from high school had her daughter she told me she cried. She cried because she thought, “my daughter will never be President.” And I thought, “Really? Don’t you think in our lifetime we’ll see a woman president in this country?” But I also thought, “Wow, every minority in America must think that when they have a child.” It’s got to be demoralizing to bring a life into this world and feel that not everything is possible for them.
I vividly remember walking my son to school the day after Obama was elected the first time, and the looks on the faces of every black mother I passed that morning, beaming with pride and joy and relief. And I thought, they must have all woken up and looked at their sons and thought, “Baby, you can be President someday. Sky’s the limit.” Maybe they even said it out loud. And sure, maybe they couldn’t look at their daughters and think the same thing, but maybe soon. Hopefully soon.
Well said, Mia. Bravo!
ReplyDeleteThis made me cry. And feel proud and hopeful we can give our kids a hand in understanding racism. Thanks for taking the time to share these ideas.
ReplyDelete