More stuff about racism

Perhaps the most insane part of talking about race right now in America is how many people — almost always white and right-leaning, to sweepingly generalize, but of course, that’s who it almost always is* — act just incredulous when confronted with the idea that racism might still be going on here today. Like, it’s never, “Well, yes, I agree we have systemic problems as a society regarding how we treat people with different-colored skin, but in this particular case I don’t think those problems were as important a factor as [something else] and here’s why.” It always seems to be flat-out, shaking-their-head disbelief at the mere suggestion that racism might still exist in this country and have real effects. At best (“best”), I guess they think that racism does happen, but that it’s exactly that: something that “happens” in isolated incidents, like Paula Deen or Donald Sterling or Michael Richards using the n-word. Honestly, I suspect there are a lot of people who think using the n-word is the definition of racism, and like the only definition of racism. And since black rappers use the n-word all the time, too, they conclude that racism can’t be that big of a deal. (Also, black people are allowed to use the same water fountains as white people now, and Martin Luther King Jr. happened, so, to these people, I guess, racism is over, and now it’s just a matter of lazy black people getting their shit together and taking advantage of the bounteous opportunities we have laid out before them.)

I’m guessing here, but I’m not guessing that hard, because I was born in a mostly white place and have spent most of my life with mostly white people, and regardless of what I might consciously think or write, I still feel these ways of thinking lurking in the basement of my brain. It’s not even that I grew up with racially insensitive white people — I didn’t! I think we were all pretty good. It’s just that we were still an in-group, and in-groups have prevailing mind-sets, mind-sets you’re barely aware of. We were taught that racism was a thing of the past, that the civil-rights movement had conquered it. And we were taught that the n-word was bad, an artifact of those benighted times before MLK stepped forth to lead us to the promised land. And that was about it.

Well. If there’s one useful takeaway from our present obsession with fantasy stories, maybe it’s that evil never dies that easily, really never dies at all. At best maybe it mostly goes away for a while, and then comes back morphed into a different form. But in this case, the case of American racism, it never even went away.

Listen: People are still alive today who can remember segregation, remember separate water fountains, remember Rosa Parks. (Just think of that, by the way: Sixty years ago, a woman not moving from her bus seat catalyzed a nationwide movement; now kids are getting killed, and we seem to be on the fence about if we need to do something.) Lots of people are still alive today who can remember all that.

So: Why the incredulousness when anyone suggests that racism might still be a potent negative force in our culture? Why does anyone even think it probably went away? We had a society where — decades after slavery and the Civil War — it was commonplace to explicitly, legally treat black people differently from white people. It wasn’t just accepted by many people, it had the force of law behind it. That wasn’t very long ago. Is it somehow crazy to think that the attitudes that allowed those things to happen weren’t eradicated? Maybe a class of behavior that caused one whole group of people to treat a whole other group of people like crap — publicly, institutionally — maybe that’s not something that just magically disappears.

People act like MLK won. Uh, he got killed. He’d literally just told us about the mountaintop, and then he got killed. Don’t act like we all got there, too.

*Note that “All the people who act this way seem to be white and right-leaning” is different from saying “All white and right-leaning people act this way.” I shouldn’t have to say that, but we live in stupid times.

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“Stop robbing black people of their agency!” and other bullshit

Good post here on the most typical trollish responses you’ll get from people on the Mike Brown shooting and Ferguson. I’ve seen at least three of these in discussions I’ve been involved with: the “Wait for Evidence” Troll, the “Mike Brown Shouldn’t Have [insert human action here]” Troll, and the “But What About Black on Black Crime!” Troll. In connection with the last one, I also got “Stop robbing black people of their agency as responsible citizens in society” from someone. His point, as best I could read it, was that there’s so much crime in black communities that police can’t be blamed for taking aggressive measures; that it was black people’s job to fix that; and that suggesting that racism frequently played a role in police’s treatment of black people was paternalistic, because it gave black communities an excuse to fall back on instead of forcing them to confront the problems they needed to deal with.

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Of course, this whole line of argument falls apart under the barest scrutiny, because anyone with the internet (which I know this fellow has, because we were arguing on it) can see that many, many black people ARE exercising their agency, have been for years, and what they’ve concluded is: This problem is about way, way, WAY more than just how black people behave.

Black communities have been taking steps to deal with black crime for decades. They’ve been trying to deal with a host of other problems, too. And what they’ve kept running up against is a set of institutions that consistently treat black people poorly and prevailing mind-sets that consistently lead to poor outcomes for black people.

And so they’ve responded in the most sensible way: They’ve called us on it. Over and over again. We are aware of our problems, black leaders say. But our biggest problem is a racist culture.

So you can have it one of two ways: You can operate on the assumption that the many, many smart black people who’ve been working on this shit for years might be worth listening to. Or you can believe that they’re all, every single one of them who has reached the same conclusion, lazy whiners and liars with no self-respect. But don’t come with this “Stop denying black people their agency!” bullshit on one hand, and then deny everything that so many black people have been actively saying for so long. You’re not respecting anybody’s agency then. You’re just looking for an excuse not to change.

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Please never text me: an open letter to Jon

Jon, I’m sorry I didn’t respond earlier to your text about whether I’d heard the new Sinéad O’Connor song. I’m sorry I didn’t respond to the four texts you sent after that, either. I should have; I know I’m a bad friend. But we’re pretty close, you and I, so I need to address a topic for you and everyone else who cares about keeping in touch with me. And that topic is: Please never text me.

I have a terrible, shitty smartphone. I know, I know, I should get a new one. Do you know how terrible and shitty my smartphone is? If I had even a half-decent smartphone, I would have been able to take screenshots of your texts for this post, instead of taking a picture of the whole phone in my hand using my computer. I don’t have a half-decent smartphone, though; I have a terribly, shitty phone. I’m not even comfortable calling it a smartphone, except for pure taxonomical purposes.

So I hate having a conversation on it. It takes for-fucking-ever just for the keyboard to come up sometimes, and also my reception is worse at my house than anywhere else in Madison, so even after the keyboard comes up, it also sometimes takes for-fucking-ever for the message to actually send.

But you know, even back when I had a half-decent smartphone, I hated text conversations. Because I have to pick up an entirely separate device (i.e., my phone) to have them. I spent nearly all day in front of my computer. It’s sad, it’s really sad. But it’s true. And I often work from home, so sometimes I don’t even bring my phone into my kitchen/office when I’m working; I just leave it in the bedroom, plugged in. If someone really needs me, they can email or use my beloved landline, which I prefer for phone calls because of (1) the reception thing and (2) its ergonomical superiority.

I miss texts all the goddamn time. I mean, I eventually see them, but sometimes it’s already the next day. I didn’t see your text for hours, Jon. And I’m not going to change. I’m already chained to one piece of digital machinery. I will not be darting back and forth between two. Especially when one is shitty and terrible.

If you need to get in touch with me outside of purely practical information (addresses, phone numbers, what time you’ll be somewhere, you need my underwear size because you’re buying me bespoke underwear), please, Jon — and everyone else, too — please just email me. Please never text.

I enjoyed the Sinéad O’Connor song. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. I hope you and Stephanie and the cat and your prospective child are doing well.

Your friend,
Josh

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