It was October 2016 and I was on work travel to facilitate a training in another state. I used this opportunity to stay with a friend I had grown very close to over the years but had not seen in a while, as we were no longer next-door neighbors.
We were both middle-aged white women with three children. Her family was all white, and mine was interracial. Fundamentally, at our core, we had a lot in common. We cared deeply for our children and our families. We had the same sense of humor and we both are addicted to organizing stuff. A place for everything and everything in its place means we learned each other’s kitchens and were as comfortable there as in our own.
But there were always underlying differences that we never addressed. Upon reflection, I feel that the best metaphor to describe this would be that of a sinkhole. On the surface, it appeared you could safely be standing on solid ground. But below the surface, there lurked a chasm that once the safety of the surface eroded, could swallow you whole.
While she had little interest in politics, she did what lots of people do when they become grown-ups, she adopted the values and political views of her family of origin. Considering these were also values her husband shared, it was reinforced and therefore adopted as her own. A new generation would continue the values, beliefs, and assumptions of the one that came before it. This is how systemic racism works. It happens so organically that it’s easy to deny that something “happened” at all, leaving the person genuinely believing that they weren’t impacted by a culture of hate; believing they are the “least racist” person you know.
Here’s an example. Early one morning before I was going to be heading back to the airport, I wanted a chance to speak to my friend alone, without her husband or children being in the room. I wanted to check-in and see how she felt about some of the recent happenings in the world. Specifically, how did she feel about the GOP candidate who had already been exhibiting reprehensible behavior and the NFL player who decided to take a stand against police brutality by taking a knee during the national anthem?
I raised the subject by sharing a story of a recent experience my son had and how badly it shook me. He was assaulted while walking home from a club in Baltimore; the assailant calling him homophobic slurs and landing a sucker punch that would knock him off his feet. The assailant was also Black, so it wasn’t racially motivated, but hate is hate is hate. When she asked if he called the police to report the assault, I told her he didn’t because he’s more afraid of the Baltimore Police Department than he is of homophobic thugs. Turns out, this story only served to reinforce her belief that Black on Black crime was a bigger problem than systemic racism and that if he had called the police, he would have been treated fairly and his assailant caught and punished.
I know she genuinely felt bad this happened, as I know she cares for my children the way I care for hers. But it was too easy for the conversation to move from a personal tragedy felt by someone she actually cared for, to one where whites are being “victimized” by being subjected to a Black man kneeling during a national anthem. Getting sucker-punched in the face and being more afraid to call the police because they are more likely to kill you than the homophobic thug, is a legitimate fear a Black victim of violence has. Watching a football player make a protest statement on national TV is a teachable moment, not a crime.
“My sons are watching. Doesn’t he realize he is disrespecting his country and showing children it’s acceptable to behave so inappropriately?”, she asked. I turned the question around and asked her if she felt the same way about candidate Trump on national television talking about grabbing women by their body parts and being able to shoot someone on 5th Avenue and get away with it? Wasn’t that worse than quietly taking a knee as a symbol of “Hey world, take note, I’m hurting, and this is the most non-violent way I can show you that pain.” She responded with, “Yeah, but…”
There it was. The “BUT.”
“But the difference is, my children aren’t paying attention to him, they don’t watch the news or know anything about what’s happening," she said. I looked at her with my crease of confusion deeply furrowed in my brow and said, “Yes they do. I saw it happen last night while we were sitting in the living room with Fox News on the TV.” She became defensive and said, “I don’t know what you think you saw, but I’m telling you that doesn’t affect them at all.”
I was in too deep and I had to see this through so instead of dropping it, I continued. “Then why did your 6-year-old ask me who I was voting for immediately following a segment on the news about the election?” She appeared confused and said, “No he didn’t, how could he have possibly known to ask you that?” I was in unfamiliar territory now because she wasn’t behaving as my rational friend anymore and I wasn’t sure what to do.
“Yes, he does. He is a smart kid and he absorbs everything. I wanted to answer him honestly without using derogatory sentiment because I wanted to model respect. So when he asked me who I wanted for president, I said, I wished Barack Obama could be the president forever, but we have a law against that.” He then asked, “Why?” “Why do I want him to be president forever?” I asked. “No,” he said, “Why is there a law against it.” See, this is a kid completely capable of grasping some pretty adult concepts.
“The law puts a limit on how long someone can be our president because there are lots of different viewpoints in our country and our leaders must change often enough that all voices get a chance to be heard,” I said. Then he asked, “Does it work? Does everyone get a chance?” I paused and wondered just how honest I should be. As an educator, I don’t want to teach children what to think. I want to present them with facts and teach them how to think for themselves. So, I continued, “No. It doesn’t always work that way. There are always going to be some people who are left out because there will be a lot of other people who don’t want to hear what they have to say.”
He seemed engaged in this conversation and appeared to be trying to process this. His last question was, “Then why do we do it?” That was much harder to answer because just saying, “because we do” wasn’t really the answer. I looked at him for a moment, marveling at the enthusiasm of a child to learn, and I said, “Because when the country was first started, the people who were the leaders decided this was the best way to do things. But at the time, these leaders had more freedom to make these kinds of decisions than the people who would have to follow the rules. When enough people get tired of following these rules, they can vote to change them.” He appeared satisfied with the answer and he hopped off the couch and ran off to play.
She was stunned A) that he had been paying attention, and B) that he really was understanding what I was saying. We sat there in silence each with our thoughts swirling around in our heads. Then it came again, “Yeah, but…” That was when I knew that our years as good friends were ending and we were now entering a new era of considering why we ever felt that way in the first place. We fell into the racism sinkhole.
She was more concerned that her white boys were going to be negatively influenced by seeing a grown Black man take a knee instead of standing during the national anthem than she was about why he was kneeling in the first place. And that reason, police brutality, is a very real threat to my Black son who is 3 times as likely to be killed by the police. Her position was one of privilege for sure, but it also spoke volumes about her deep-rooted racist feelings that she is genuinely unaware of. This is known as implicit bias. It is the thoughts and feelings that we are unaware of and cause us to show negative attitudes towards people, or associate negative stereotypes, without our conscious knowledge.
The research on implicit bias sheds light on how adults, regardless of their race, tend to focus more attention and to make negative judgment statements about brown and Black boys compared to their white playmates. They do this because their implicit bias has been trained to expect these children to exhibit more challenging behavior whether the children exhibit it or not. Adults also make negative judgments about Black boys and girls evenly when their names are more stereotypical, like DeShon vs. Josh or LaKeisha vs. Ashley. Adults will use words like “aggressive and defiant” to describe the behavior of Black boys while they conversely use words like “assertive and determined” to describe the same behavior in white boys.
It takes a tremendous degree of self-awareness to acknowledge just how our own implicit bias shows up in our day-to-day interactions with young children. But it’s necessary to reshape our unconscious mind to prevent it from passing along negative messages to children when we aren’t even aware we are doing it.
Even though race has no genetic basis, it still shapes human experience. There is a common misunderstanding that a person’s race defines their culture. However, it is the experience of being viewed as “distinct” that shapes a person’s identity, not their culture.
In other words, we should not assume that just because a group of people look the same that they will think the same, have the same religious or political views, or even celebrate the same holidays. But they will share the experience of being treated similarly because they share common physical traits like the color of their skin. Children learn this at a very young age. They see the physical differences and will make distinctions about those differences based on the information that the world around them supplies. If they hear messages like, “She took MY job! She only got that position because she was Black,” children will learn that behaviors (both negative and positive) can be attributed to physical differences. So, in their minds, Black people can take something that was supposed to be mine, therefore I need to fear them so I can protect myself.
You might be thinking that’s a stretch. But it’s not. Think back to your own upbringing and look deep into the sinkhole of your family of origin. How many times can you hear a relative say “those people?” or blame people of color for bad things happening to them? If it’s even once, you know it’s true. I’m not saying this to shame you or make you feel guilty. That’s a topic for another blog. But I am asking you to take a close look at ways you were influenced as a child and to look even closer to how your behavior today reflects that influence.
It’s not too late to adopt an anti-racist framework for your life. You can unlearn those learned behaviors if you are willing to admit those behaviors were learned in the first place. It’s called progress and it’s time we had some when it comes to creating an anti-racist society.
I haven’t written this friend off for good. I still love her because more than one thing can be true. I don’t agree with her biases, AND I know she has the capacity in her heart to change. I am hopeful she will for her own sake, and the sake of her beautiful children who can still unlearn the implicit bias that has shaped their family for generations. I had to do the same hard work myself to unlearn the biases, and I must practice it every day. I must listen to the voices of racist ancestors and examine how I navigate my world with their influence in my head. Change is possible and it’s necessary to create a safer world for all our children.
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