Stereotypes, Costumes and Resistance

Ah, fall. The leaves shine colorfully in the rain before they're blown off by gusts of wind. Days turn swiftly to night. And racial stereotypes abound. Between Halloween, Thanksgiving and the usual ill-conceived party or auction theme, fall really tis the season of cultural appropriation and stereotyping.

It is this time of year that blogs such as Native Appropriations and Sociological Images annually post about racist costumes. This year, the student organization STARS at Ohio University came up with a campaign using the slogan, "We're a Culture, Not a Costume".

Yet still these costumes are everywhere. Sadly, I even saw a young white girl of about six years old in Fremont (a mostly white, traditionally artsy community in Seattle) dressed as an "Indian Princess". No, we are not going to simply evolve to a higher level of racial cognizance, and yes, that stereotype still causes damage.

How does a person respond when told their costume is inappropriate or harmful? How do party planners react when confronted by folks unhappy with their "Poc a hot ass" (unfortunately, I'm not making up that title) Native costume theme party? Predictably, when the racist nature of dressing as a caricature of a culture is called out, many get defensive. Here are a few of the common responses I've heard or read recently and my critique. (Note: These are not exact quotes, merely summaries from several dialogues.)

1. "My Latino friends don't care if I wear a donkey in a sombrero costume. They didn't say anything about it and many of them thought it was funny!"

This hearkens back to the old, "My best friend is black, I can't be racist," argument. It is problematic in that it puts the burden of responsibility for naming racism squarely on the shoulders of a few individuals. If these individuals are in a place of denial in their own racial identity development, they may, in fact, have no problem with the costume.

When we look to a few individuals to represent the perspectives of the whole, to carry the gavel which determines racist or not, that, in itself, perpetuates racism. Part of white privilege is being able to pick and choose which people of color we listen to and whose voices we dismiss in order to justify our actions. We see them as a group, while still insisting we be seen as individuals. In addition, the personal response is elevated above the social, political and historical context of institutional racism. So when a friend sanctions racist behavior, we don't feel the need to learn more about why someone else might disagree.

Another reason this response is inappropriate and harmful is that it fails to consider why your Latino friends may not tell you they don't care for that fake mustache and Speedy Gonzalez imitation. I know I've avoided conversations with friends, especially close ones, when I knew it would strain the relationship (ironically, avoiding the conversation still strains the relationship, only the other person isn't aware).

Not to mention the chore of trying to prove why something is racist. Too often, the burden of proof ends up on the shoulders of the person offended, rather than the one causing the offense. For people of color, this leads to all too common conversations where their perspectives are dismissed because the white cultural norms tell us we don't have to consider "another country", as written about by Baldwin and many others.

So maybe your friend just wasn't up for that conversation at the Halloween party. Can you blame him? Did you really want to learn from him anyway? 

2. "I didn't intend to offend anyone. I'm a good person and those who know me know I wasn't trying to be racist with my feathered headdress and ass-less brown leather chaps."

First, go back and read my post on intention vs. impact. 

This response is deeply rooted in the idea that racism is about perpetrators and victims. It is about bad people doing bad things. Therefore, if you're a good person, you can't be racist. This is tied to American individualism and the desire to see all of our actions as singularly personal, rather than connected to a group identity.

But racism is much more than that. The everyday, subtle (and not-so-subtle) advantages I have because of my white skin, such as not being asked to represent all members of my race as in the first example, are not a result of my individual actions. Whether I act in ways that are positive, negative, neutral or somewhere in between does not change the institutional context of those actions.

This also brings up the problem of a dichotomizing perspective. We tend to rank people and actions as good, bad or somewhere in between. This is reinforced by popular notions such as heaven and hell and foreign policy that says, "You're with us or against us." Of course racism falls into the bad category.

Seeing people as essentially good or evil doesn't take into account that everyone of us has done things we regret. Maybe we knew at the time our actions would have negative consequences or maybe we were totally oblivious until later reflection. In this case, people can't bring themselves to consider they might be having a negative impact when smoking the fake "peace pipe" at a party because that would mean they are racist, ie. bad.

I don't have to know you personally to know your outfit is offensive. What we have to understand is the larger group context of our individual behaviors and how this is connected to historical and current oppression. Which brings me to number three.

3. "Oh get over it. The Shanghai Nights theme party is just for fun. We're honoring Asian culture. Besides, my interpretation of the Geisha and these lanterns are works of art. Do you want to censor all art work?"

Okay, no, I don't want to censor all artwork. Just the kind that perpetuates stereotypical notions of people and places that oversimplify and even poke fun at cultural identities. Yes, I guess I don't have a sense of humor about this. Perhaps you should consider what is so funny about seeing people react to racist statements? Are you laughing at or with me? Perhaps you should question why, with so many other possible ways of expressing your artistic side, you are relying on cliche and stereotype?

I admit it, that's what I want to yell at people sometimes.

The idea that we can just shrug off stereotypes is a popular one. I remember doing an activity in college where we were supposed to look at pictures of different people and say what assumptions we made about them. It was obvious they wanted us to name some stereotypes and everyone went out of their way to say how they didn't assume anything about the people pictured. "That black guy with his shirt off? Could be an executive at a poolside. Who's to say? I certainly don't see him as dangerous."

Although we were aware of the stereotypes, none of us felt like we made judgments based on those. Jeez, we weren't a bunch of racists or anything. This is how most of us want to see ourselves. We like to believe we treat each other fairly and are in control of our own behaviors.

I start a workshop by asking people to, "Raise your hand if you've ever done worse on a test because of a stereotype about your lack of ability." Almost everyone keeps their hands down, no matter what the racial make-up of the group.

Then I ask, "Raise your hand if you're aware of the stereotypes about your identities, but don't let them influence you," and I get the exact opposite reaction. Almost every hand in the room goes up.

But research by Claude Steele, Joshua Aronson and many others has shown we're wrong about both of those questions. Performance on math tests of girls as young as 8 years has been linked to the stereotype about female math intelligence. White college students are more likely than black students to ask for help, work in groups, or drop a tough class to take later when they have a lighter work load. The black students respond to the stereotype about their lack of ability by trying to not appear to need help. This is compounded in situations where someone is a numerical minority. So an individual white man on an all-black basketball team faces greater threat of confirming the stereotype that white men can't jump, because he alone represents the group. The research is extensive and compelling.

Stereotypes impact all of us. In fact, the more we care about a subject and disproving the stereotype, the more our brains will focus on it and the worse we'll perform. So even while we may think we're "getting over it," we're not.

And when we insist that people should just laugh it off when we pull our eyes back and talk in broken English, we're literally asking the impossible.

So now I can hear some of my dear friends saying, "Well, what do you expect me to do? It seems like I can't say anything without offending someone."

Thanks for asking! I do have some ideas.

1. Do your best to find out more about stereotypes and cultural appropriation. Read some blogs. Pick up Claude Steele's book. Find out more about the different experiences of oppression for different people of color in the United States. Start with Andrea Smith's model of the Three Pilars of White Supremacy. Come to a Cultures Connecting workshop. In other words, take some time and engage in some self-education so you can minimize those cringey moments when you unintentionally hurt someone. This will give you something to think about on those long winter nights.

2. Accept the fact that you will do or say something that shows you have biases, just like anyone else. When this happens, admit you made a mistake. Stop and really listen if someone is kind enough to explain why what you wore was problematic. Continue to put yourself in situations where you will be challenged to learn more.

3. Engage in anti-oppression work. If you're in Seattle, connect with an organization such as the Coalition of Anti-Racist Whites or El Comite. There are a large number of organizations working for change and they could use your artistic, fundraising, creative ideas.

We'd all be better off if we spent less time during these blustery fall days trying to prove how we're not racist and more time working to end institutional racism.

Norm for Anti-Racist Activism: Stay Engaged and Expect Non-Closure

How many of us start trying to find ways to mediate or show the commonalities in our beliefs when witnessing racial conflict between people or disagreeing with someone ourselves? How many are willing to stay engaged and understand the root of the disagreement?

How many of us have ended a conversation, only to go to someone else we knew would agree with us and talk about why the other person was wrong? How many are willing to challenge ourselves and our friends to consider we might be the one's who need to change?

Racism and White privilege is carefully crafted and constantly changing form. In order to address it, we must stay engaged with the knowledge that we may not see closure.

Today we are seeing the biggest wealth gap between Black & Latina/o and White people since this data began being reported in 1984. With all of the hard work, pain, even death people have experienced trying to dismantle racism in the past, it is no surprise that many feel disheartened.

At the same time, I still hear people (mostly White, but not all) in workshops talking about how racism is something we worked through and no longer exists. It is as if acknowledging the reality would mean they were racist. Or maybe it is just that confronting the truth means they have to see their world in a different way and question their silent complacency.

We have to find new ways to honestly connect, build coalitions, look deeply at ourselves, and continue despite the obstacles. We need passion and willingness to engage one another and recognize and address systemic issues.

The United States Needs a Moral Upgrade

To say the nation has lost its moral compass is inaccurate. It implies that at one time we operated under principles of morality, but somehow just misplaced that darn compass and started down the wrong track. And, since a compass is fairly worthless without a map, it also implies that we had a fairly good map of the moral landscape in the first place.

No, with the technology we have available today, it's about time we upgraded to a moral GPS. The kind that talks to you in your head and says,
"That Black man in the elevator is not going to steal your purse."
"All Asians don't look alike and you shouldn't ask her where she's from just because you can't tell the difference."
"This land where your house is doesn't really belong to you."
"A life taken does not give a life back"
You know, stuff like that. In the voice of Morgan Freeman.

But instead we're still trying to find our way without compass, map or satellite. And while we're stumbling around, we're doing morally abhorrent things like killing Troy Davis.

I listened to the widow of Officer MacPhail say, "We have laws in this land so that there is not chaos. We are not killing Troy because we want to." She implies it is a system, one she has no control over, that is responsible for his execution. And the system is necessary to keep from some kind of chaotic lawlessness that we'd all inevitably engage in if we didn't have the death penalty to 'teach us a lesson'.

No, wait. Not all of us. Those people. Those Black people who recognized they were the ones she's scared of and showed it by writing Facebook posts, holding up signs and wearing shirts that proclaimed, "I am Troy Davis."

Because I doubt she thinks she and her family would collapse into lawlessness, looting and killing, if the threat of death was not hanging over their heads. And I don't imagine she thinks that about her White neighbors.

It reminds me of the time in one of my teacher education classes where we were talking about the use of scared-straight tactics in schools. A young blond woman proclaimed, "I went on a field trip to a jail when I was in high school. We walked into a cell and they closed the bars behind me. I swore at that moment I'd never commit a crime."

Another student astutely (and sarcastically) pointed out, "Yeah, I bet that's all that saved you from a life of crime." Of course, that assumes you even have to commit the crime to be punished.

As a White woman, I am not Troy Davis, I am assumed innocent, even when I am guilty.

Last night I had a dream that I was the prosecutor who successfully sought the death penalty for Troy Davis. I walked into a room with wooden bleacher-style seating in front of a one-way glass window to watch the execution. As I sat down facing the glass, Mr. Davis's family sat in the row in front of me. Only, they were facing in my direction, rather than watching the preparations for his death. I looked at them and helplessly tried to explain why I had to do what I did, how it was out of my hands. I wanted to apologize to them, but realized no explanation or apology was possible at that moment. Then I woke up because I couldn't breath due to the lump in my throat from crying.

Does being white automatically make me the prosecutor? I like to think not. At the same time I am constantly asking myself, what more could I be doing to see this doesn't happen? When have I done enough? This is not out of a sense of guilt, but rather a sense of our collective responsibility to change the system of White supremacy that allows this to happen. To acquire the tools to navigate a new landscape together.

When will we realize that vengeance does not lead down the path to peace? That your suffering will not relieve my suffering? We need to upgrade to 21st century morality and truly see, feel and act from a recognition of our global interconnectedness.

Racial Microaggressions

Dr. Hollins and I are doing a short presentation based on the work of Derald Wing Sue on Racial Microaggressions tomorrow morning (for examples of many types of microaggressions check this out). We're starting by sharing our Where I'm From poems, and speaking to how our different experiences shape the way we interpret events and interactions. Some interactions trigger us or become a "hot button" as they repeatedly happen to us, those we love, or those with whom we share a group identity. These triggers are related to a history and current context that reinforces privilege and oppression.

For example, if someone refers to me as a "girl" I can hear my mothers voice saying, "I'm not a girl, I'm a woman," can hear the kids in elementary school taunting, "Earl is a girrrul," (sexism as a weapon of homophobia) and think about the times women's voices have been dismissed as childish. When I react to that comment, I'm reacting to more than just one person saying one thing. I'm reacting to the history of the term combined with any sexism I've recently experienced.

When we present on racial microaggressions, we want people to understand that this is not about memorizing a list of what you should or shouldn't say. It is not about being "politically correct"--which is actually one of my hot buttons. It is about growing our understanding of the patterns and context of what we might otherwise see as individual behaviors. It is about recognizing how our individual behaviors and relationships contribute to institutional racism and white privilege.

Even using the term "hot button" can be problematic (although it is catchy for our buttons). It implies that the person reacting to the microaggression is the one who has the issue, rather than the person who said it or the system of racial oppression that is really the issue. I like to refer to this as the "racism gets your goat" perspective, the microinvalidation that you're overreacting to something minor.

Tomorrow we'll ask people to share their triggers or hot buttons. What are yours? We'll also ask them to be brave and share when they've said or done something that was a microaggression. Can you think of a time when you committed a microaggression? What did you learn from that experience?

Norms for Anti-Racism Work: Experience Discomfort

"Is your comfort more important than someone else's pain?" -Author Unknown

I went to a training on Generational Diversity recently. It was interesting, but I realized after the 3 hours session that there was not a single point at which I'd had to look at myself or the world in a new way that made me uncomfortable. That's my measure of whether or not deep change work is happening. Simply talking about differences in cultural styles will not change institutionalized privilege.

It is not comfortable to admit I've had unearned privileges because of the color of my skin, my physical abilities, or other factors. It is not comfortable to admit that through systemic intentional and unintentional socialization I've come to internalize whiteness as superior. It is not comfortable for people of color to confront internalized racial oppression. But it is a part of the path to collective liberation.

Dr. Hollins and I pride ourselves on providing a safe place for people to enter into discussions about privilege and racism, but safe is not the same as comfortable. When I bring this up with friends or in an organization, it doesn't feel comfortable or easy. It can, and has, led to the loss of relationships or jobs.

An acquaintance of mine was playing a video game one time and yelled, "This game is so gay!" At that point I felt very uncomfortable. I realized that if I spoke up, it would create tension in our relationship. Then I thought, "Why should I be the only one feeling discomfort? He made the comment. He should be experiencing a bit of this discomfort, too!" The conversation did not end with us going out dancing at a gay bar, but it did end with my feeling true to myself.

There are certainly times when it is literally not safe to confront racism, sexism, heterosexism, or other forms of oppression. However, there are many times when we remain silent in an effort to keep offenders comfortable. When I am silent in the face of oppression, that indicates agreement.

The question I continually repeat is , "Whose interests are being served?"

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No Fixing

Another norm for engaging in courageous conversations and anti-racist activism is No Fixing. I've found this easiest to explain with a metaphorical story.

A few months ago I was riding my bike home from work when I was hit by a car. I was going straight and I saw the driver at an upcoming intersection look left, directly past me, then pull out into the intersection to make a right hand turn. Luckily she was moving slowly, as I was right in front of her (in the bike lane, btw) when she drove into the intersection. She knocked me over, causing a bit of damage to the bike, but mostly just scaring both of us.

When she got out of the car, the first thing she said was along the lines of, "Oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't see you!" She was crying while asking if I was okay.

At that point, I felt the need to comfort her, tell her it was alright, that I was doing fine. Physically, I was. Mentally, I was really shook up, as this also brought back the time I was nearly killed in another car/bike collision where the driver didn't see me. So, while reassuring her, I was simultaneously processing my past trauma.

What does this have to do with cultural competence? When people who are well-intentioned perpetuate racism unconsciously, they often respond with, "That's not what I meant". Thus, the attention gets focused on helping them feel better, or Fixing, rather than on the injury they caused.

Whether someone literally or figuratively "doesn't see you" doesn't change the fact that they knocked you down. I know that you didn't see me, didn't even consider that I might be sharing the road with you. However, what I want to know is are you truly sorry for what you did? And not just are you sorry, but will this experience change your behavior?

When we immediately jump to comforting or fixing the pain of causing harm to others, we sometimes overlook who really needs to be supported in this situation. That is not to say that causing a collision doesn't involve it's own form of trauma, I've certainly been devastated by unintentionally hurting people, but let's take the time to feel that pain.

From there we can see why this happened and what we can do differently in the future. The driver who hit me paid for my bike repairs and sent a card saying she was much more conscious of cyclists now. Maybe others can learn from this experience as well, so we don't all have to knock someone down in order to increase our consciousness. But if and when we do, we can focus on the impact, not the intent.

Norms for Anti-Racist Activism: Speak Your Truth & Listen for Understanding

I wrote and presented the following at an Episcopal Women's Gathering recently:

I'm going to give a brief overview of our approach to anti-racism work by explaining the norms we operate under. One of the first steps in dismantling racism is self-awareness. For me, as a White person, this means the on-going process of interrogating the dominant cultural norms I've taken for granted as "just the way people are" or "just how things are done". In contrast, the norms of People of Color are often referred to as "cultural". In redefining norms, we seek to make conversations and actions more explicitly equitable. The following are adapted from the work of Glenn Singleton's Courageous Conversations.

The first norm I'll address is Speak Your Truth. It is important to speak only for ourselves rather than use the universal you, as in, "You know how when you're driving and you don't see a cyclist...". The universal you assumes everyone you're speaking with has this shared experience, and it's use is particularly common among members of the dominant culture. It subtly implies the normalcy of the speaker's experience.

I was in a workshop at a Women of Color Conference and made the statement that women tend to be indirect in our communication. An African American woman quickly responded with, "You're not talking about Black women." Without realizing it, I had taken my cultural norm and generalized it to the experiences of all women. When speaking your truth, try to say "I" rather than "you" or "we" or be specific about the population you're referring to (this is a good time to practice not being colorblind.)

Being confronted like that made me very uncomfortable. It would have been easy for me to say, "But I'm here in this workshop trying to do this work, so give me a break. I'm one of the good ones!" or, "That's not what I meant,"or, "She shouldn't have said that in front of the whole group." Focusing energy on how the message was conveyed rather than what was communicated robs me of the opportunity to learn from my mistakes.

Sometimes Speaking our Truth comes out with passion. For different people this may mean raising our voice, crying, standing up, or any number of behaviors. Too often we dismiss the content of what was said because of the way it was said. Instead we need to practice the second norm, Listen for Understanding.

When I was teaching 5th grade I gave the students an assignment to research and report on social justice activists. I marked points off of one boy's presentation on Chinese Americans' detention on Angel Island for presenting on an experience of oppression, rather than activism. That night, I received a long email from the parents that essentially said, "You don't understand social justice from a Chinese American perspective." Although I conceded (in my head) the parents made many valid points in the email, I felt email itself was an inappropriate way to approach me about such a heated topic. I didn't respond in writing except to ask them to please set up an appointment to talk with me about their concerns.

They called me that night and began telling me why they thought I should change their son's grade. I quickly interrupted and said I didn't think the phone was the right way to have the conversation and asked if they could come to the school to meet with me.

It was toward the end of the school year and they were not available to meet before school got out. I refused to meet with them after the school year was over, as that would be during my summer vacation time. However, I assured them this one grade would not impact their son's overall report card. Not exactly what they were looking for.

This is a story I hesitated to share publicly, as it so clearly illustrates the way I protected my privilege and dismissed People of Color. They were offering to give me a gift, to educate me about the ways Chinese Americans have advocated for themselves throughout history and how this was different from my perspective that was mostly framed by Black activism in the Civil Rights Movement.

I had to lie to myself to deal with the cognitive dissonance I was experiencing. I saw myself as a social justice educator. They were calling into question not just one grade, but a large part of my identity. At that point, it was easier for me to blame them for not approaching me the "right way" than to truly examine my biases and Listen for Understanding.

When put into the context of dominant norms, cultural differences, and social capital, Speaking Your Truth and Listening for Understanding to someone sharing his or her truth becomes more complex. Yet it is this complexity of experiences and ways of expressing those experiences that defines a multicultural society. If we want society not just to be diverse but also to be equitable, one step is to take a close look at ourselves, acknowledge our privileges, learn from our past, and advocate for reshaping our norms.

Why Tolerance Won't Work

A friend of mine sent me a photo of a poster she saw outside of an elementary classroom yesterday. In front of a colorful collection of crayons it read, "We could learn a lot from crayons. Some are sharp, some are pretty, some are dull. Others are bright, some have weird names, but they all have learned to live together in the same box." Interestingly enough, all of the crayons in the photo looked brand new, i.e. all of them were "sharp".

How is this supposed to inspire children coming into the classroom? The implied message, "Just because you have a weird name doesn't mean we won't put up with you," isn't exactly welcoming. And who gets to define weird versus normal?

One of the most important things a teacher, friend or co-worker can do is learn how to correctly pronounce someone's name, especially when the name is one you haven't heard before. Names tell a story about who we are culturally and individually. That is one difference between a society that values diversity, rather than one that tolerates "others".

Doing a little research, I found the quote attributed to Robert Fulghum, the author of All I need to Know I Learning in Kindergarten, which is obviously not true in this case. I also found a T-shirt with this message available on a website called AutismLink. The message on the shirt included the phrase "Practice Tolerance". Which makes me think they are promoting tolerating people who are, you know, a little "dull". Not because I personally think the autistic children I've taught and adults I know are dull, but because the fact is, we don't have to advocate for tolerance of people who are pretty, sharp, or bright.

The poster also reminded me of how desperately I wanted the 64 pack of crayons, the one with the sharpener, when I was in 1st grade, but my mom couldn't afford it. I went so far as to steal Colin's crayons, only to be caught when the teacher noticed that "my" box had his name written on it in sharpie. In a tolerant classroom, I would accept Colin and the other kids for having more, and they would accept me for having less. Apparently the difference in our access to resources shouldn't effect our effort or create resentment, even though some of us would have much more colorful pictures. That's easy for a 1st grader to understand.

In an equitable classroom, we would have access to the same coloring resources and accommodations that didn't label some as dull. In a classroom or workplace that emphasized social justice we wouldn't just be standing next to each other quietly accepting our allotted position in the box. We would be working together to change the systems that created the inequity in the first place.