I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how people describe others’ history. History books differ from documentaries differ from diaries. I started thinking about this as I attempted (and failed) to write a piece about part of my family tree for a project based around photographs of Philadelphia throughout its history [eh hem: if you are in or near Philly, get yourself there].
There is currently a section of John Wilkes Booth’s vertebrae on display in Philadelphia’s Mutter Museum. When Booth killed Lincoln, my family fled Philly for the suburbs, because my family is his family. For me, being related to John Wilkes Booth feels similarly to the thought of seeing some of his vertebrae in a jar – mostly uncomfortable, a little neat, and I’d prefer to move onto the next thought in the manner of a few seconds. It doesn’t quite affect my everyday life. I moved out of Philly because I wanted to live in Brooklyn. Not quite the same as moving from Philly to a shack in someone’s backyard in a one square mile town in New Jersey because a member of your immediate family killed the President and now there are people looking to kill you.
So. Family history.
I have a love/hate relationship with my family. As in, I DEARLY love my parents and there are a few other family members who I care greatly about. And then there are a bunch who I love, but prefer to limit my time around. Aaminah’s post today brought together a lot of the thoughts that have been rolling around in my head. Especially in regards to things I hear said at family gatherings. And in regards to the history my family members would provide if asked about me.
When I was eight years old, I got kicked out of my dad’s parents’ house. We were at the dinner table. I don’t remember what we were talking about, but grandfather suddenly went on a rant in which he used the n-word. I cut him off and yelled “How DARE you use that word? That is hateful!” He shoved his finger in my face and told me that he could say whatever he wanted because we were in his house. He said if I didn’t like it I “could leave.” Then he told me to apologize to him. I said “no.” He said “get out.” I got up and let myself out of the house.
My grandmother and parents sat in silence until I left. At which point, apparently, my grandmother, who was the quietest woman I have ever known, stood up from her end of the table and informed my grandfather that if he was going to make the family choose between listening to his hateful words and having me at the table, he’d better get used to talking less.
On occasion, there are still things that come out of my grandfather’s mouth that burn me up. But, for the most part, in the past sixteen years, he has thought. His views have changed. His words have changed. Other family members, though, not so much. I have a group of cousins who’ve taken it upon themselves to tell me new racist jokes whenever we talk, because it “gets a rise” out of me. We don’t talk much.
If I were to write my own personal history, I can’t tell you what it would say, but I can tell you it’d be worlds different from what many family members would say. I know some would pick out the parts of my life that sound best to them (“Katie used to act. She graduated from an Ivy League school and works in Manhattan now.”), and leave just about everything else out. Others would say something closer to “Katie was spoiled growing up. Now she’s too uptight and needs to learn to take a joke.”
“Learn to take a joke.”
“You’re too uptight.”
The problem is, a lot of truth comes in jest. I know that a lot of racist jokes and comments people make to me are things they would never say in front of a person who wasn’t white. But I don’t believe that’s a decision made out of respect so much as out of the fact they know what they’re saying is wrong. If you know what you’re saying is wrong, it stops being a joke. And telling anyone who points that out that they should “calm down” doesn’t make it a joke. It means you want to remove the burden of being offensive from yourself by framing the situation as a result of another person’s awareness.
I know that a lot of racist jokes and comments people make to me are things they would never say in front of a person who wasn’t white.
Huh, I was ranting about this stuff with my friend just last night. I absolutely hate that because I am white, people assume that I am part of the racist club, and feel that they can say racist sh*t in front of me.
A few weeks ago I was in an elevator with a white girl I had recently met, and she mentioned how her neighbourhood is kinda rough. Another woman in the elevator says how “yes, the other day there were two black boys at the front of the building”. I was so caught off guard I had no words immediately, but I hope she took the point from my face and the silence that ensued..
Growing up being perceived as a guy, I got to be privy to all the most horrible misogynistic things that guys say when they don’t think any women are around. But strongly identifying as/with other women I took it all quite personally.. I remember the one time, working in a kitchen, one of the cooks decided that what we needed to do to boost our moral was to take one particular woman (one of the servers), and tie her, naked, to the ceiling. It was all I could do to stand there and not scream or cry or throw up or something. Being around that kind of thing so much, I was honestly pretty traumatized, and I still have to deal with a fear and distrust of anyone male, especially in a group.
It has similarities and differences to the assumption of being a member of the white racist club. But I hate it, and I now try to find ways to mark myself as outside of it before people decide to start cracking “jokes” around me.
Have you found anything that works particularly well to let people know that you’re not going to condone their hatred?
Sometimes, I’m torn. I had a professor in college who used to say he didn’t believe in being PC because he wanted the people around him to say what they felt so he knew what to expect in dealing with them. I’m at a point where I want people to speak their minds around me, because I do want them to be able to hear, from me, that I don’t agree with what they’ve said – and why.That may be self-aggrandizing, it’s very possible that these people won’t give a crap about why I think what they say is offensive, but I guess I figure nothing ventured, nothing gained.
At the same time, though, I don’t want to suggest bigoted people freely speak their thoughts around everyone, because it’s not up to me to decide how others want to be talked to, and as much as I despise what they’re saying, it’s generally not my life or merit as a person they’re calling into question.
And I’m still trying to figure out how to address specifically racist jokes made in all settings. With family or acquaintances, I got it. Strangers in public, I’ve figure out too. Work, not as easy right now (past jobs,yes – this one, I’m pretty sure I’d be ostracized or eventually fired – and I need this job right now). Any thoughts on that would be helpful, as I presently spend my days with migraines hoping no one will share racial insight with me that day, or that me saying “CAN WE PLEASE GET BACK TO DISCUSSING BUSINESS?” will be enough.
lol @ “racial insight”
I totally feel the point of view to let people say how they really feel. Every one has their own approach to things and boundaries. I loved bfp’s comment about how you can be a movement together as long as no one is doing things to hurt others within the movement. I’ve been seeing the whole world differently through those words. I have this idea that by trying to make a bubble around me where racist attitudes are not allowed to go on, then maybe I am helping to make a little better world. And if lots of people did that, then the space where racism could thrive would be pushed into the margins instead of people of colour.
I struggle with this idea of trying to “educate” other whitefolk versus just not putting up with their privileged ignorance/aggression. Getting people to really say their mind definitely opens up more opportunity to educate, but that position is something that is really difficult for me to take. I end up just wanting to drop kick them, and always struggle to find any words at all. Generally once people reveal themselves to be racist and unaware/unapologetic, or insincere, or uncomfortable with knowledge/places/priorities that are not white-centric, I have trouble really being around them at all. So I have been trying to find ways that work for me to visibly not be a friend to racism.
I’m sure that we are around very different groups of people, and being different ourselves, react to, interact with, and interpret them very differently as well. So I guess I’m saying this from my perspective, I see people around me very differently than most. I haven’t tried to really put all of this into words before, so it may come out a little jumbled, cuz these are things I perceive, not things I’ve read in books that benefit from the analysis of others.
In Whipping Girl, Julia Serano talks about this idea of “enforced ignorance”, which in-group members tend to maintain against outsiders. In that book she specifically talks about trans vs cis groups of people. People in cisgendered groups will enforce the ignorance of others about trans people, and those who do show knowledge are suspected/accused of being trans themselves (a position of definite subordination within the group).
I think that amongst white people a very similar thing happens. You are expected to not know very much about things outside of white culture, only enough to exoticize or devalue or appropriate them, not enough to make them personal or to respect them. I’m convinced that people do know more (beyond exoticizing/imperialist attitudes), but they just generally keep it outside of conversations with other whitefolk so as to not make anyone uncomfortable, or make anyone look ignorant.
Me on the other hand, I just try to do the opposite of that. There are lots of ways that I do it, it’s different every time I guess. But even when people bring up a topic, and you just know where it’s going to go, I would just love to drop a piece of knowledge on the topic that is just completely not white-centered, something that is able to show respect and knowledge about the people/place/practice/whatever. I think it makes people a little uncomfortable to start talking trash when you’ve just shown you actually know truth about it and respect it, and will clearly defend it.
It’s nice to do this by bringing up the topic yourself, or somehow bringing it into other topics, rather than waiting for people to start talking about the things they know nothing about. Lately I’m pretty much always reading a book on racism and/or sexism, or history (which is really about racism and sexism too). People inevitably ask “what are you reading?” so I give them the book and let them read the back cover, and then they have no idea what to say afterward, and I think they see me differently. Expressing my distaste for the Canadian government opens up the chance for people to ask why, to which I can state their involvement in the genocide, criminalization, impoverishment, and subordination of Native Americans. People who don’t wanna hear it will just consider me “one of those people” and unfortunately it’s rare to say something and have someone ask to know more, but it happens once in a while. Sometimes I’ve brought up news about things around the world (not europe), “do you know about ___?”, and try to talk a bit about it without making it about reinforcing imperialism, or I will mention non-christian holidays in a way that isn’t a joke.
I also like to ask “why?” questions a lot, and to have people try justify themselves.
I guess basically, when white people get together and talk, the points of view expressed tend to be so totally white-centric and SO IMPERIALIST. I like to say things, little things mostly, that just denormalize whiteness, recenter things off of white culture, or put white/Western society on equal footing with people and things that exist outside of that. In the language of sexuality, our society is very hetero-normative, I’d say similarly it is very white/anglo-normative. I like to turn that upside down whenever possible.
I think a lot of people see me as interesting but not a lot of fun. A lot of people like to separate personal and political but I can’t.
I just got this t-shirt the other day that says ALLY on the front of it. It’s so so interesting how people look at me differently when I’m wearing it. Some (white) people look downright uncomfortable I think, but it shouldn’t be that much different from wearing a shirt that says LOVE. This is my new experiment though in marking myself and trying to make that bubble around me.
Thanks so much for sharing all that – it definitely wasn’t jumbled!! You’ve got a lot of great thoughts and practices in there and I’ll be keeping everything you wrote in mind when I fight the urge to be stunned to silence upon hearing the offensive things people will (I’m sure, though unfortunately) continue to say.
This is so profound and deep, thank you for sharing it!
Love,
Adele