In (Slight) Defense of Chris Matthews

Chris Matthews’ blunder following President Obama’s State of the Union Address is by now common knowledge to political junkies. But for those that missed it, Matthews was so enamored with Obama’s speech that, well, he “forgot [the President] was black for an hour:”

It's interesting: he is post-racial, by all appearances. I forgot he was black tonight for an hour. You know, he's gone a long way to become a leader of this country, and past so much history, in just a year or two. I mean, it's something we don't even think about. I was watching, I said, wait a minute, he's an African American guy in front of a bunch of other white people. And here he is president of the United States and we've completely forgotten that tonight -- completely forgotten it.

For Matthews, Obama’s speech was significant because, for that moment in time, he was stripped of his “blackness.” Obama wasn’t race-less, per se, but instead no longer black. The faux pas falls under the heading of colorblind ideology—i.e. the idea that racial inequality and division will disappear if we just stop obsessing over racial differences. According to the ideology’s adherents, adopting a “colorblind” outlook—pretending we don’t notice differences in skin pigment—is the pathway to a more equal, democratic civil society.

The problem with this framework in general, and Matthews’ comment in particular, is the effective whitewashing and subsuming of different cultures. In other words, the colorblind rhetoric can only be realized if all races, creeds and colors simply adopt and are assimilated into the dominant white discourse. The ideology of colorblindness doesn’t call for a new, radical framework of, say, American racial identity. No, by contrast, colorblind ideology accepts whiteness as a given from which “others” must assimilate. As Ta-Nehisi Coates argues, echoed by G.D. in Postbourgie’s recent Podcast, this failure to investigate whiteness is deeply problematic. Colorblind ideology obfuscates the intersection of race, power, and privilege by accepting the dominant racial identity as the standard from which all other races must acclimate. To accept a “colorblind” framework, therefore, is to accept the superiority and dominance of a singular racial identity.

Still, to defend Matthews ever-so-slightly, I do think his heart was in the right place. Look, the guy never thought he’d see an African-American leading the free world. For Matthews and plenty others of his generation, the idea of a black president was—until last year—unfathomable. So, in some respects, the intent of Matthews comment was to laud the normalization of a black man in a position of power. Which, in all fairness, is pretty remarkable. Just because Chris Matthews failed to introspectively challenge his own entrenched racial identity—no small task, if you ask me—doesn’t mean we should dismiss his astute observation wholesale.

Was Matthews’ commentary racist? Maybe—but only if we accept the sophisticated critique of colorblind ideology. Yet the average white American doesn’t exactly think about racial identity like this on a day-to-day basis. And, perhaps, it is this widespread pattern—not Matthews’ individual blunder—that lies at the root of the problem.

What Up?!

Watching the GOP scramble to rebrand their party’s image following President Obama’s election has been a fascinating development in American politics. But nothing has been quite as interesting as the GOP’s new website, launched yesterday, aptly found at GOP.com. In a dramatic push to make the Party appear more inclusive, the site depicts a wide range of “Faces of the GOP”—not surprisingly composed primarily of women and racial minorities.

RNC Chairman Michael Steele runs his own blog on the site, originally titled “What Up,” but later changed to “Change the Game” following ridicule from folks on the Left. Steele used his first blog post to laud the Internet’s mobilizing potential and prompt readers with the age-old question, “What makes you a Republican?” Judging from the Party’s current organizational schizophrenia, I can only imagine the range of responses Steele’s going to get.

Still, Steele’s efforts are admirable, if a little suspect. He really is committed to “changing the game,” making the GOP more inclusive in an era of multiculturalism and diversity. And GOP.com is a much better effort than Steele’s last push to attract more diversity to the Republican Party. When asked a few months back how he plans to bring more minorities to the GOP, Steele replied, “My plan is to say, ‘Ya’ll come.’” A member of the audience then shouted, “I’ll bring the collard greens,” to which Steele added, “I got the fried chicken and potato salad.” There’s no fried chicken recipes at GOP.com, but there certainly are many pictures of black faces sprinkled throughout the website. Dropping the racial stereotypes in favor of symbolic inclusion is, at the very least, a step forward for the GOP.

That said, it’s an understatement to interpret the site as a feigned, superficial attempt to promote racial diversity within a Party that still supports policies of racial inequality. It feels forced, to say the least. The fact that the website lacks a Spanish language conversion option only adds credence to its symbolic—rather than material, substantive, or tangible—purpose. We are talking about a Party with a long, storied history of racialized politics, after all. You know, the same Party that coined the term “welfare queens,” used Willie Horton for political advantage, and sent around emails depicting President Obama as a witch doctor with a bone through his nose. Yeah, that shining Party of racial inclusion.

It is at GOP.com that we truly see race, politics, and racial politics collide and intersect. Steele—the first black Chairman of the RNC—is desperately trying to respond to America’s changing demographics, pandering to a slice of the electorate that, at least in part, affected the outcome of last November’s historic election. That folks (often from the Left) are questioning Steele’s blackness only emphasizes the infusion of race in American politics. And it’s not just “racial politics” at play—you know, politicians catering to different racial groups—but an example of how race and racial considerations inform political messages and campaigns. Race is omnipresent in American politics, just as it is omnipresent in American culture. The content of GOP.com illustrates the political imperative of racial inclusion, but it’s difficult to imagine how the Party can reconcile this lofty goal with the politics of white resentment that has historically formed the Party’s base. Factor in Steele’s racial identity, and the RNC emerges as a social laboratory of racial dynamics, balancing multiculturalism with implicit racism and operating within the context of our nation’s first multi-racial President. Symbolic gesture or not, GOP.com is a window into a layered world of race and politics.

It’s unclear how Americans, minority or otherwise, will react to GOP.com. There are, indeed, plenty of racial minorities that believe in limited government, states’ rights, and many other aspects of the Republican Party’s platform. But I imagine it’s hard to get on board with a Party that fans the flames of racial resentment for political gain. Will GOP.com “change the game?” Maybe, but it will be an uphill battle for the RNC. Unfortunately for Steele, a few black and brown faces on a website—the same site that beckons minorities by asking “What Up?!”—can’t exactly make up for decades of racial animus and exclusionary policies. The RNC’s racial conundrum may ultimately prove too difficult to overcome.

The White Racist Meme

It would be an understatement to argue that the mass media has taken on racial analysis with unprecedented zeal since the election of Barack Obama. Unfortunately, in attempts to present fair and balanced news coverage, cable news programs have typically included panels with representatives from both sides of the Left-Right ideological spectrum.

The problem with this method, of course, is that subsequent analyses usually follow the same tired pattern: “That was racist!” vs. “That is ridiculous! Race was not a factor!” At best, this produces unproductive exchanges. At worst, it woefully simplifies complex social process and interactions, institutionalizing diametrically opposed ideological camps instead of offering nuanced analysis.

Luckily, the Washington Post has Eugene Robinson, who wrote an important op-ed last Friday:

“Of course it's possible to reject Obama's policies and philosophy without being racist. But there's a particularly nasty edge to the most vitriolic attacks -- a rejection not of Obama's programs but of his legitimacy as president. This denial of legitimacy is more pernicious than the abuse heaped upon George W. Bush by his critics (including me), and I can't find any explanation for it other than race.

I'm not talking about the majority of the citizens who went to town hall meetings to criticize Obama's plans for health-care reform or the majority of the "tea bag" demonstrators who complain that Obama is ushering in an era of big government. Those are, of course, legitimate points of view. Protest is part of our system. It's as American as apple pie.

I'm talking about the crazy "birthers." I'm talking about the nitwits who arrive at protest rallies bearing racially offensive caricatures -- Obama as a witch doctor, for example. I'm talking about the idiots who toss around words like "socialism" to make Obama seem alien and even dangerous -- who deny the fact that he, too, is as American as apple pie.”

Not to be outdone, Frank Rich weighed in on Saturday:

“But there is a national conversation we must have right now — the one about what, in addition to race, is driving this anger and what can be done about it. We are kidding ourselves if we think it’s only about bigotry, or health care, or even Obama. The growing minority that feels disenfranchised by Washington can’t be so easily ghettoized and dismissed.”

Robinson and Rich hit the nail on the head. To argue one way or another that current debates over healthcare or other social policies are solely “about race” is to miss the point entirely.

Race is omnipresent in this country. Racial distinctions inform policy debates, delineate opportunity, and structure social interactions. But that doesn’t mean that all white people, or all white protestors, are uniformly “racist.” Nor can the omnipresence of race sufficiently and adequately capture the nuance of white racial identity. For different people, different social processes precipitate racial prejudice. Some learn from their parents, while others learn from conflict in the workplace. Some develop prejudices from economic competition with minorities, while others experience blind ignorance as a result of extreme social isolation. Among the so-labeled “racists,” some hold disdain for “welfare queens,” while others fear random violence from young black men. Some are overwhelmingly concerned with illegal immigration and “protecting our borders,” while others can’t even stand the thought of sitting next to a minority. Some believe in the racial profiling of Middle Eastern folks at airports, while others blame blacks for their own disadvantage. Some engage in recreational racism, while others use disdain for social policies like affirmative action as proxies for bigotry. Some whites hold a combination of these prejudices, while others hold none. Sometimes these prejudices are grounded in real life experiences, but sometimes they aren't. At the very least, white racial identity and prejudice is complicated and takes innumerable, varied forms.

To discuss and analyze race is not to revert to an either/or, racist/not racist false dichotomy. Race matters as an everyday reality of inequality, yes, but it’s not as simple as the White Racist Meme suggests. Race matters because it’s always mattered. But racism matters in increasingly complex ways.

The question is not if race matters. The question is how.

The Reverse of Discrimination is "Not Discrimination"

I recently went on a road trip with my uncle, traveling from Boston to New York for my brother’s high school graduation. As we drove through western Massachusetts, our conversation eventually drifted to employment and the economy. In what would prove to be a fascinating discussion, my uncle began to recount his first job interview after college. He graduated from Northeastern University in the ‘70s—right around the time President Nixon institutionalized affirmative action and quotas served as the nation’s predominant employment policy. He had worked in Northeastern’s admissions office for a few years, so when a full-time position opened up at the University of Michigan’s admissions office, he made the 14 hour drive halfway across the country to interview for the job.

A funny thing happened during his interview, however. According to my uncle, his interviewer immediately apologized as he entered the room. ‘Look, I hate to say this,’ the interviewer said. ‘But there’s no way we’re going to be able to hire you. If you were a woman or black, I’d hire you on the spot. You are totally qualified, but we’ve got to fill our quotas.’ Naturally, my uncle was none too pleased, commenting plainly (but forcefully) that acts of “reverse discrimination” are unfair. I did my best to defend affirmative action policies, discussing their historical necessity, noting their negligible affect on white male employment, and even waxing philosophical about the entitlement associated with staking claim and ownership over falsely constructed “spots” in colleges or the workforce. It was all to no avail, though. Cliché as the phrase is, my uncle was “passed up” for the job, and there wasn’t much I could say.

We’d be naïve to trivialize my uncle’s experience or write it off as just another “reverse discrimination” fairytale. It happened. It’s a reality. The problem was not that this was an exaggeration; instead, it was that my uncle forgot about his lifetime of advantage as he harped on that one, single experience.

See, claiming reverse discrimination is a lot like recounting your golf score. It’s always the one or two bad rounds that leave the deepest, most painful impressions. You always remember the bogey on the 9th hole, but never the birdie on the 10th. Somehow, the abundance of good holes are taken for granted, while the one or two missteps are amplified and taken as indicative of the entire round. Sure, my uncle remembers getting passed up for the job with the University of Michigan—an event that (probably) happened the way he said it did. But, in the process of recounting this single experience, he forgot about a lifetime of job interviews in which he directly benefited from his whiteness or his gender. In all the jobs my uncle interviewed for, how many times were applicants immediately rejected for having “black” sounding names? How many women were turned away because employers didn’t think they could handle the stress of the job? How many times did my uncle’s employment prospects benefit from acts of statistical discrimination that weeded out potentially qualified minority applicants?

Still, many others that hide behind the “reverse discrimination” mantra often have few, if any, personal experiences to justify their outrage. But the golf analogy still fits. These folks are the ones that throw a fit over their buddy’s 10-stroke handicap. That’s not fair, they complain. But in their moral grandstanding, they forget all of their privileges that negate—and even surpass—their buddy’s handicap. These privileges may include the country club membership that afforded them hours of practice on the course, the childhood golf lessons their parents paid for, or the hand-me-down Callaways their father didn’t need anymore after he got his new set of clubs. Their buddy with the 10-stroke handicap was just allowed to join the country club recently, had parents that couldn’t afford to invest in clubs or other activities, and never inherited any valuable assets. In short, the two golfers didn’t begin the round on equal footing.

With some folks, claims of reverse discrimination are proxies for implicit assumptions of black or brown intellectual inferiority. The operative word here, however, is some. Other folks have had very real experiences with so-called “reverse discrimination”—it’s just that these isolated instances fill a disproportionate share of their memory. The real problem with the “reverse discrimination” debate (besides the logically incoherent label “reverse discrimination”—what is the reverse of discrimination anyway? Not discrimination?) is our inability to honestly discuss the issue. The question shouldn’t be whether or not this incident—or others like it—actually occurred. Instead, we need to ask ourselves, how often does this happen, and to what effect? Such acts rarely occur anymore, and the effect is almost always minor or marginal. And, of course, the folks that decry “reverse discrimination” have almost always benefited from other instances of privilege. They just tend to forget about them.

The Politics of "Othering"

Frank Rich’s column from Saturday’s New York Times is too good to go unnoticed here at Social Science Lite. Rich brilliantly tackles the “birthers” (proponents of The Greatest Political Conspiracy in the History of the World*), placing their rhetoric within our so-called “national conversation on race:”

“Obama’s election, far from alleviating paranoia in the white fringe, has only compounded it. There is no purer expression of this animus than to claim that Obama is literally not an American — or, as Sarah Palin would have it, not a “real American.” The birth-certificate canard is just the latest version of those campaign-year attempts to strip Obama of his American identity with faux controversies over flag pins, the Pledge of Allegiance and his middle name. Last summer, Cokie Roberts of ABC News even faulted him for taking a vacation in his home state of Hawaii, which she described as a “foreign, exotic place,” in contrast to her proposed choice of Myrtle Beach, S.C., in the real America of Dixie.

[…]

One of the loudest birther enablers is not at Fox but CNN: Lou Dobbs, who was heretofore best known for trying to link immigrants, especially Hispanics, to civic havoc. Dobbs is one-stop shopping for the excesses of this seismic period of racial transition. And he is following a traditional, if toxic, American playbook. The escalating white fear of newly empowered ethnic groups and blacks is a naked replay of more than a century ago, when large waves of immigration and the northern migration of emancipated blacks, coupled with a tumultuous modernization of the American work force, unleashed a similar storm of racial and nativist panic.”

Racial panic over minority invasions and challenges to white hegemony is nothing new; the history of “othering” minorities is a long and storied one, with its organizational zenith going as far back as the Chicago World’s Fair of 1893. There, white Americans celebrated the supposed supremacy of American culture, collectively embracing whiteness as they mocked and ridiculed “savage” foreign societies. White Americans defined their unstable racial identity in opposition to an ill-defined, uncivilized racial “other.” At the Chicago World’s Fair, whiteness, nationalism and modernity were all intertwined: to be intellectually superior, patriotic, and American was to be white; to be white was to be intellectually superior, patriotic, and American. Sounds familiar, right?

This collective re-drawing of racial boundaries has been a common American practice during times of economic distress and demographic change. Take the influx of African-Americans into manufacturing jobs during the 1930s and 40s. This onslaught of blacks into Northern industrial cities during the Second Great Migration precipitated violent resistance in formerly all-white neighborhoods and workplaces. In more recent decades, the growing Hispanic population in America has spawned a pervasive anti-immigrant ethos with blatantly racist overtones. In each instance, white Americans enacted social, political, and economic structures—such as restrictive covenants, redlining, and political gerrymandering—to limit upward mobility when people of color challenged their hegemonic power.

So-called “birthers”—questioning President Obama’s country of birth—are only the latest in a long line of white Americans dead-set on “othering” minority populations. There's just no way this Obama guy is one of us. This "othering" of President Obama is exactly where we need to focus our discussions of race in America—not on individualized instances of racial discrimination, but on historical continuities and the institutionalization of racial animus. Our “national conversation on race” won’t happen over beers, but through careful historical analyses of racial identity formation and the hoarding of economic and political resources.

The politics of “othering” has long been a dominant facet of public discourse. No “national conversation on race” is going to do much if we don’t address this core aspect of American political identity.


* I'm officially coining "The Greatest Political Conspiracy in the History of the World" as my new term for the "birther" claims.

The Greatest Political Conspiracy in the History of the World

Eat your heart out, Monica Lewinsky. Move over, Kenneth Starr. There’s a new group of political truth-seekers out there, and they just uncovered a bombshell that’s going to shock the world. Were you irate when Clinton lied about his infidelity? Or when Bush lied about the weapons of mass destruction? Well these minor scandals pale in comparison to The Greatest Political Conspiracy in the History of the World: President Obama is not a United States citizen!

A few brave fellow patriots are joining the venerable Ken Starr in the courageous struggle against lying, deceitful politicians. Thank goodness for Real Americans. They (uh, awkwardly) call themselves the “birthers,” and their ranks range from good ol’ normal folks like this lady in Delaware to high-ranking political leaders like California Republican Congressman John Campbell. Some outwardly question President Obama’s citizenship, while others admirably “just want to see these question put to rest.” Turns out, these inquisitive folks have uncovered President Obama’s true citizenship: He’s not American—he’s African.

Of course, these (incorrect) rumors have been around since the election. Snopes sufficiently debunked them, but folks are still clinging to the pervasive notion that there’s just something not right about this Obama guy. As Liz Cheney noted on Larry King Live Tuesday night—validating and legitimizing the birthers’ invalid and illegitimate claims—Americans are “fundamentally uncomfortable” with Barack Obama. He just doesn’t seem like one of “us.” He’s, well, he’s something other than us.

The process of “othering” minorities remains a fundamental component of our nation’s history. That it is so shocking for folks to associate a black man in power with American citizenship is not wholly surprising. Princeton scholar Mellissa Harris-Lacewell offered a fascinating discussion on this very topic after Obama’s election, detailing the innovative steps his campaign took to overcome racial cognitive dissonance. See, we’ve been so used to a certain style of person (read: white, male) in positions of power that our brains had difficulty making the shift toward accepting a different looking First Family. This cognitive shift—a significant racial barrier, to be sure—was integral to Obama’s success last November.

Yet some folks haven’t fully made that cognitive shift. They’re still pretty reticent to accept that a smart black guy can actually be an American, and, even worse, be their Commander in Chief. But it’s far too easy to condemn their racist ignorance without offering any critical analysis. In the social sciences, we delve into every possible explanation for the behaviors of poor, predominantly minority populations and communities. We untangle their social networks, carefully scrutinize their positions within the economy and polity, and go out of our way to talk to them personally in our research, often letting their own words drive our analysis.

Yet we rarely place that same critical eye on the lives of poor white folks—particularly poor racist white folks. We (correctly) note the lack of mainstream models of success in many urban neighborhoods. We talk about the role of social structure in shaping a group’s worldviews, but rarely apply that same analysis to folks outside the so-called ghetto. It’s unfortunate; in our knee jerk reactions to overt racism, we neglect comprehensive social research and, more importantly, comprehensive pursuits of social justice.

These folks—crazy as we may think they are—are expressing real feelings and real fear. Calling them foolish isn’t productive. Telling them they should know better is ineffective. And, apparently, showing them Obama’s actual birth certificate doesn’t do much either.

But that doesn’t mean we should write these folks off. In Black Picket Fences, sociologist Mary Pattillo writes about black gang members in a Chicago neighborhood. She discusses how these kids have multiple identities; they’re gang members, sure, but they’re also someone’s brother, son, or neighbor. As a white guy from upstate New York, these racist white folks—lawn jockeys and all—could easily be one of my neighbors, friends, or relatives. Well, maybe not one of my friends—but you get the idea. They’re human beings with little access to quality information, born to a world that has taught them to fear blacks.

Questioning their intelligence does little to expand their worldview and educate them on the complicated contours of race and racial inequality. No, Obama’s not a Kenyan citizen. And no, this isn’t the Greatest Political Conspiracy in the History of the World. Sure, these “birthers” are woefully misguided, and yes, their ideological underpinnings are exceedingly racist. But this is an opportunity—an opportunity to tackle racism and inequality head on through careful analysis and education. Who knows, it just might bring us closer to the ever-elusive "post racial America" everyone keeps talking about.

Monday's Musings: I Can Hear Your Shirt, But What's It Saying?

This is not a traditional post where I present an argument or my opinion about a recent post although the social implications for studying identity, culture, and race are considered (admittedly as backdrop). Rather, I would like to offer something for discussion to the larger audience that I cannot quite come to terms with. So, I start with two simple, yet complex questions: What does this shirt mean to you? What does this shirt mean for society at large? A piece at The Root entitled “Can You Hear My T-Shirt Now?” called these questions into existence. The article highlights the current work of Renee Cox* of Maroon Rebel who wants to make t-shirts “racial and radical” once again with messages like “Bye Baby” with “Emmett Till Died For This” as the subtext (I think it would have been more powerful if she would have quoted Mamie Till, Emmett Till’s mother: “I have not a minute to hate. I’ll pursue justice for the rest of my life”).
**
The old adage goes, “a picture is worth a thousand words.” What is missing, or rather, what is taken for granted in this old phrase is that each picture means a different thousand words to each individual. Though there will surely be overlap, a plethora of internal conversations between picture and individual are held even when only a few of us come across a single image (Look at the vitriolic comments launched against Malia Obama for wearing a peace sign on her shirt in her last trip overseas with the rest of the First Family).

I am of two minds with respect to t-shirts that claim to be “racial and radical” for a purpose on either continuum of the color spectrum. A host of questions immediately come to mind. Are the shirts just for shock value? Are these shirts made for getting a reaction out of passersby? Or are they to inform? Are they to force us to connect the picture or message—effectively, the representation of reality—to one’s reality? I am not sure. In fact, in writing this post I battled over including the following question as the opening so as to move the question beyond my own limited perspective: are there temporal or contextual constraints or expiration dates (if you will) for different modes of celebrating one’s history, the good and the bad? I changed my viewpoint as soon as the words were on screen because I realized that I was singling out African Americans for implicit in that question is that people should leave history in the past and only worry about the present and future, a perspective I do not subscribe to.

The fact remains that we are forever communicating with a larger audience. The body itself is always in dialogue with others. Taking off of sociologist Erving Goffman, the body both communicates and is communicated in the sense that one is always projecting and receiving social information simply by being copresent. The clothes we wear have cultural roots but they are also an expression of one’s individual and/or collective identity. So, when we wear certain shirts like the one pictured above, what exactly are we communicating?

*The picture headlining this post was taken on someone's person and is not one of Cox's design.
**This particular shirt is one of Cox's design.

Battling the Financial Crisis: Students not Salaries. Really?

“Salaries and perks not students” should be the slogan for all Amherst faculty members during these troubled, financial times. The reality, however, is that there is a group of faculty who seem to be reversing this mantra.

Amherst College has been one of the front runners in admission and financial aid policies for the last decade. It was the first and/or one of the firsts to go need blind for students whose families make below certain income levels and to offer “no loan” packages to students who come from families who earn less than certain amounts of money. Amherst made history yet again the past two years with two major announcements: No loans to all students and need-blind admissions for international students. It does all this with (before the crisis) an almost two billion dollar endowment. Again, Amherst has been a front-runner in admissions and financial aid. Harvard, with the largest endowment (fifteen times larger than Amherst’s) Yale coming in “close” behind, do not operate under the same principles though their packages are substantially better than other institutions. In fact, only Princeton, Davidson, and now Williams are, I think, the only schools that are now true “no loan institutions.”

The problem now is that now that the financial belt has to be squeezed a little tighter because of the economic climate, people are, if I may use a phrase from home, showing their true colors. As with other schools, Amherst has enacted a number of financial restrictions to save money. For instance, they are in a pseudo-hiring freeze and there will be no raises for faculty or staff this year. These latter two actions are actually quite common for institutions today. I leaned that both President Tony Marx and Dean of Faculty Greg Call reduced their personal salaries until better financial times. The negative side, however, does not come from draconian, top down measures to save money like cutting departments or laying off large number of workers, rather the worst response has been that of a group of faculty members.

To save their money they want to, one may say, roll back time. More specifically, instead of exploring more options, according to some, they want to reduce the moneys dedicated to admission and financial aid, the two departments that make Amherst what it is today, the two departments that keeps Amherst in the news more so than any other, the two departments that uphold the alma mater, terras irradient, more so than any other. This group of faculty wants to restructure how financial aid is done, not universally, but in a targeted manner.

I quote a student who alerted the student body to these suggestions and who has rallied other students to stand against, not this group of faculty, but their recommendations and suggestions:

“In response to the ABC report, which recommended only small changes to financial aid targets, a group of faculty members have circulated [a] letter [sic] amongst themselves to suggest to the Trustees that we end need-blind financial aid for international students, stop recruiting in areas with high aid-eligible students (a.k.a. poor students), and start giving out loans. Although they preach sharing the sacrifice throughout the Amherst community, they don't voice any sacrifice they are willing to make."

Some may consider the latter move racist. I do not necessarily (but reserve the right to revisit this). However, I would be mistaken if I do no state explicitly that such a policy change would have disproportionate effects on minority students who are, just like the rest of the population, disproportionately from lower socioeconomic backgrounds than their white peers, and low-income white students who seem always to be left out of these conversations. With respect to minority students, blacks in particular, this is not mere posturing as in thier book Black Wealth/White Wealth, Sociologists Melvin Oliver and Thomas Shapiro, studying the sociology of wealth, has shown that even blacks and whites with comparable levels of education and incomes have different levels of wealth with blacks being disadvantaged because of historical and current racial policies. Naturally, this disparity is even more evident the lower one goes down the socioeconomic ladder. Latinos face similar obstacles as well and low-income whites, again, are absent from many of these discusions though both groups do slighlty better than low-income blacks. What I argue, as has been done before, is that such a “nonracial,” economic policy change would surely decrease the number of minority student you attract to your school. To not send admissions officers to disadvantaged areas, to those areas where students, despite being socially isolated, manage to make it, but still host information sessions at Choate, Exeter, Andover and the like will have racial ramifications. Of this, I have no doubt. Again, the intent, I believe, is not racist but the effect will be, with the blunt of the impact being absorbed by those economically disadvantaged minority and white students.

The faculty should ask themselves would Amherst still lead the country in being home to students from Questbridge, arguably the best enrichment program in the nation that helps students get into top colleges without having them leave thier neighborhoods? Would Amherst still lead the nation in Pell Grant recipients? Although focusing on Amherst and recruiting students from disadvantaged populations, this is a much larger problem. We have seen how, because of budget cuts, schools seem to be the most affected. I wrote about the financial times and the changing role of summer schools. But that spoke elementary, middle, and high school education. This related issue is that of the next step: acquiring the credentials needed to acquire middle class jobs (those this is not guaranteed anymore given that the BA is the new high school diploma). Amherst is less than 2000 students but it has the endowment of a much larger institution. The question this raises is what are other, less endowed schools doing whose financial aid and admission policies are not as generous?

With respect to the reversal of the need-blind admission for international students, (as above with respect to the issue of class and race) I am hesitant to come down on either side of labeling such a claim xenophobic. “Xenophobic,” like racist, is a loaded term and labeling this suggestion as xenophobic is complicated. I withhold judgment until conversations, discussions, or debates are held. My lack of familiarity with international issues and tensions with respect to international students and colleges are restraining my judgment. Thoughts are welcome.

Nevertheless, this matter brings up an interesting question. Should many of these elite institutions with very large endowments, that are need-blind for U.S. citizens and residents, remain need-aware for international students? Although this would cost slightly more, it is possible. Unfortunately, this was not even on the table before many of these institutions suffered due to the crisis. In this shrinking and increasingly globalized world, can we afford to keep international students at bay, especially when we preach attaining global perspectives and send students abroad? Should these institutions really show favoritism for U.S. citizens and residents? These are questions that most schools will probably not wrestle with for some time.

I write this post not to bash Amherst or the thoughts of this group of faculty members. Amherst is my alma mater and has opened many doors for me. As I was quoted saying before, it allowed me to rewrite the narrative of my life. However, during these times I propose that we all pay closer attention to the ways in which our alma maters—and colleges more generally—are slimming down their expenditures from their endowments and speak out against policies that will disproportionately disadvantage (in this case in admissions and financial aid) already disadvantaged populations.

Philadelphia, PA, or Philadelphia, MS?

One city is the site of a watershed moment during the Civil Rights Movement. It was in this city that Mickey Schwerner, Andrew Goodman, and James Chaney—an interracial group of civil rights activists—died at the hands of the Ku Klux Klan during Freedom Summer, 1964. Coincidentally, this was also the city where Ronald Reagan launched his 1980 campaign for the White House, embracing a racially charged rhetoric of “states’ rights.” The historical legacy of this city stands as a testament to the violence, tragedy, and racism that epitomized the struggle for Civil Rights in the 1960s.

The other city is home to the Liberty Bell. This city, colloquially referred to as the “city of brotherly love,” gave birth to the American Revolution. It was our nation’s first capital, the site of American Independence. This city carries a rich, celebrated history—a history rooted in patriotism, freedom, and lofty ideals of equality.

In which city did white patrons leave a swimming pool in protest as a group of young black campers entered? In which city were these young black children denied access to the open-membership “private” pool, even after paying the $1,900 membership fee?

I’ll give you a hint—it wasn’t in Mississippi.

This past week, The Valley Swim Club in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania revoked the membership of 60 black children from The Creative Steps Day Camp. Their reason? "There was concern that a lot of kids would change the complexion … and the atmosphere of the club," said John Duesler, Club President. That’s not a paraphrase—it’s a direct quote, from a written statement no less. The racist vitriol of this Freudian slip (I don’t think he intended the literal connotation of “complexion”) goes well beyond the club’s discriminatory membership policy. Indeed, the racist logic of Duesler is emblematic of the prevalent, pernicious, dangerously appealing ideology of laissez-faire racism.

A new political culture has effectively barred the acceptance of 1960s era Jim Crow racism—a racist ideology grounded in biological explanations of black inferiority. However the fall of Jim Crow was accompanied by a more passive, yet equally problematic ideology of black disadvantage. The general public now accepts cultural explanations of black inferiority, citing blacks’ collective lack of mainstream values, norms, and behaviors as the source of their deprivation. This is exactly the rhetoric adopted by Duesler and The Valley Swim Club—a rhetoric rooted in the unfounded fear that these black kids simply won’t know how to act right.

This kind of blind discrimination is nothing new, nor is it uncommon, particularly in Northern cities. Segregation—be it explicitly enforced or implemented through proxies and euphemisms—is an everyday reality. Our neighborhoods are segregated. Our nightlife is segregated. Our schools are segregated. Our public beaches and parks are segregated. Economic enterprise and labor markets are segregated. This is not a new development—in fact segregation and racial inequality have been an ever-present facet of American political, economic, and social institutions since, well, as far back as my historical knowledge goes.

Segregation, racial inequality, and racist social policies are not phenomena relegated to the Deep South, nor are they relics of a distant past. Discrimination is embedded in lending practices, ingrained in residential choices, entrenched in the criminal justice system, and woven into the very fabric of our labor markets. The incident in Philadelphia sheds light on an everyday struggle for communities of color—a struggle that most certainly did not end on November 5, 2008.

Some may argue that we are living in a post-racial society. Some may argue that racial discrimination is a thing of the past. Some may argue that racism is fading.

Try making those arguments to the 60 campers of The Creative Steps Day Camp.

Taking Mainstream Liberals To Task

Anti-racist public intellectual (and all-around fascinating guy) Tim Wise is beginning research for a new book scheduled for release in the summer of 2010. He plans to analyze colorblindness and the rhetoric of "post-racial" America on three levels: public policy, private practice, and personal aspirations. While much has been written on the Conservative embrace of colorblind rhetoric, Wise is specifically gunning for mainstream liberals that have avoided discussions of explicit racism in their analyses of racial inequality. He will posit an argument that "universal" policies—such as college affordability or job training programs that target all races—do little to offset racial inequalities. Instead, Wise will argue that a universalistic framework merely perpetuates inequality by failing to address the underlying racism embedded in American institutions.

Here's a description, lifted from his Facebook page:

In April 2009, in his first full press conference, President Barack Obama was asked what, if anything, he planned to do to address the particular hardships being faced by African Americans as a result of widespread economic downturn. In response, the President answered that his economic recovery efforts—such as expanded unemployment insurance and health care coverage, as well as stimulus dollars flowing to job creation and retention—would disproportionately assist people of color, as they are to be found in larger numbers and percentages among the poor and struggling. [...]

While some were shocked at the President’s apparent dodging of the race-specific injury experienced by people of color in general and African Americans in particular, others saw his comments as careful political posturing, reminiscent of his campaign, during which he had deftly avoided racism as a persistent national issue, and sought to build cross-racial unity by “transcending race,” personally and politically. Yet in truth, the President’s position is neither a new, nor merely political calculation. Instead, it is part of a longstanding tradition within mainstream American liberalism; a tradition that has been given new voice and strength by this President precisely because he is a man of color; and a tradition that, unless critiqued forcefully, may only worsen racial disparities and race relations in the United States.

For over thirty years (and really going back even further, to the New Deal) certain voices on the liberal-left have advocated a retreat from color-conscious public policies (such as affirmative action), and even from open discussion of racism as a key factor in the perpetuation of racial inequity in the United States. Rather, they have argued that the barriers faced by black and brown Americans are largely divorced from racism, and that these stem, instead, from economic factors such as deindustrialization, capital flight from the cities, spiraling health care costs and inadequate funding for education, jobs programs and other programs of social uplift. From this starting point, they contend that “universal” programs intended to uplift the poor and working class, are the best means for narrowing the racial inequalities with which the nation is still plagued.

Beginning with William Julius Wilson in the late 1970s, and continuing to the present, otherwise liberal commentators, scholars, and politicians have sought to steer clear of race—as an explanation for deep inequalities in the nation, and as a category to which we must attend in order to eliminate those inequalities—in the hopes that the public (read, the white public) would be more inclined to support progressive policy if it were first divorced from an anti-racist rationale.

Yet in truth, universalism, or what could be called the post-racial public policy consensus, has not markedly impacted public support for liberal efforts. In large measure this is because such efforts have been so thoroughly racialized already—and thus linked in the white imagination with race-targeted uplift for the black and brown—that decoupling them now without a direct challenge to the racist thinking behind the linkage is nearly impossible. Likewise, historically, universal programs of economic uplift have failed to improve the station of persons of color dramatically, or when they have, they have only done so at a slower pace than for whites in the lower economic strata: thus, such efforts have tended to widen racial inequity, even as they may provide some improvement in the absolute status of blacks, Latinos and others of color.

Today, attempts to improve health care availability, public education, housing and job opportunities for all—though clearly warranted and necessary—cannot possibly lessen the racial divide as some claim, for reasons this volume explores. First, the injuries suffered by persons of color in these various realms are not themselves race-neutral. Rather, they are directly related to racism, both in the past and present. To address race-specific injury without addressing the racial motivator or cause for the injury is to misdiagnose the disease, so to speak, and fail in our efforts to cure it. In this volume, I will lay out the evidence of race-specific injury, and explain why it requires a race-targeted response. [...]

As usual, Tim Wise provides some thought provoking and provocative arguments. I actually discussed the highlighted portion of this passage with Tim yesterday over email. In Wilson's new book, More Than Just Race, he does in fact argue for racially-targeted public policy-i.e. policy aimed at a specific racial group, such as better healthcare options in minority communities. Moreover, he has never "steered clear" of race; in fact, he has always taken racial inequality head on. Where Tim and Wilson differ is in their respective diagnoses of contemporary inequality: Wilson argues that impersonal changes in the economy and political institutions has further marginalized vulnerable minority populations, whereas Tim points to latent racism inherent in many public policies. Wilson also points to the ecological components of racial inequality (such as spatially concentrated poverty), whereas Wise focuses more on overarching white supremacy and racist ideology. The main thrust of the book, then, is to push folks like Wilson (and me) further, forcing us all to take a close look at the racist underpinnings of racial inequality. In his own words, Tim plans "to go off on mainstream liberals this time out." This should be interesting.

It wouldn't be fair for me to comment on this synopsis, but I certainly have quite a few thoughts on these issues. Regardless of any quibbles I may have with his ultimate analysis, Tim provides a vital voice in our continued battle against racial inequality. Even when we differ, I firmly believe that these are healthy conversations to have.

Public Space and Civic Dilemmas: Lessons From The Wire

“But the corner is, it was, and it always will be the poor man’s lounge.” – Major Colvin

In this scene from Season 3 of The Wire, Major Colvin speaks at the police department’s daily ComStat meeting. The previous night, Officer Dozerman was shot during a failed drug sting. Dozerman had a simple task: ride up to some corner boys selling dope, and buy a few vials. His fellow policemen, waiting nearby, would swoop in for the subsequent arrest after the sale was complete. Yet, the corner boys were wise to the plan, and Dozerman was shot before the sale was made.

In the clip, Colvin discusses a fictional interaction between the Baltimore police and the corner boys—a “great moment of civic compromise,” as he recounts. This compromise involved a simple message from the police to the neighborhood drunks: Put your beer and liquor in paper bags while drinking in public. As long as the alcohol was covered with a paper bag, the corner boys could drink in peace, and the police could “do real police work.”

Later, Colvin would apply the paper bag policy to the city’s drug trade, concentrating all drug trafficking to an area called Hamsterdam. The entire force looked on as Baltimore’s drug dealers moved weight out in the open. Hamsterdam—where drugs were “legal”—became the modern day compromise between drug dealers and the police. All in the name of civic unity and peace.

Major Colvin realized that public space is a highly valuable public good, and battles over the use of public space are a major civic concern. The public drug trade, like public drinking, competes with other routine community activities for control over public space. To diffuse conflict and avoid this competition, Colvin attempted to privatize a public behavior. The paper bag (and the hoarding of the drug trade into an area invisible to the general public) is a way to take a public activity and disguise it as a private act. In short, it’s a compromise.

Middle class folks, with the luxury of private space, are constantly trying to legislate the use of public space. They fail to share Colvin’s wisdom that “the corner is, it was, and it always will be the poor man’s lounge;” poor folks simply don’t have the same access to private space. Middle class people rarely understand why poor folks fix up cars in the street. Or why they barbeque on public green space. Or why they sit on lawn chairs, chatting and conversing in front of the corner store. The need for public space, access to public space, and control over public space are constantly negotiated in mixed income and multi-racial communities.

I wrote about this public/private divide in perceptions of criminality last week, both in relation to drug decriminalization and violence in pro sports. But this also relates to Omar Edwards—the black, plainclothes police officer murdered by a fellow (white) officer that “mistook” him for a criminal.

In light of the murder, NAACP President Benjamin Todd Jealous discussed the changing nature of race and racism on CNN. He noted that perceptions of black inferiority drove racism sixty years ago. Back then, most racists thought blacks simply weren’t smart enough to be coaches, quarterbacks, or presidents. That’s not the case anymore, at least not to the same extent. Today, according to Jealous, racism and racial prejudice centers on perceptions of black criminality.

Unfortunately, contemporary racism runs much deeper than a simple association between race and criminal behavior. Indeed, it is political struggles over public space and our subsequent perceptions of “proper” uses of space that drive many racial prejudices. It’s a collusion of four factors—race, class, criminality, and public space—that influences contemporary racism and inequality. Edwards was shot, in part, because of the problematic, racialized way we view public space and criminal behavior. The media and blogosphere were both quick to mention that Edwards probably wouldn’t have been shot if he were white. This is a perfectly valid point. But, Edwards also probably wouldn’t have been shot if he were “caught,” say, committing online bank fraud. This private act of criminality does not carry the same racial baggage associated with public criminality.

See, public space and private acts are an important part of the equation. The difference between smoking a joint in your parents’ basement and rolling a blunt on your front stoop centers not on the morality of drug use, but on the perception of the “proper” use of public space. Public space is the poor man’s private sanctuary, and our general perceptions (and stereotypes) of race and class are a reflection of this structural reality. So when Brent Staples of the New York Times writes about the continued danger of “driving while black,” he has only identified part of the story. Laissez-faire, free market racism adds new dimensions to existing racial stereotypes that go beyond simplistic assumptions of black criminality. It’s not just about being black, but more about being black in a public, uncontrolled setting.

Major Colvin’s brilliant speech in this scene from The Wire underscores the importance of public space embedded in civic dilemmas. As we think about racial inequality and racism in this country, it might do us some good to pay attention to Colvin’s lesson.

Reflections on Privilege, Guilt, and Identity

This post is slightly different from my usual contributions to Social Science Lite. Nonetheless, this post is as real as the others. I receive versions of the comments anyone posts on our blog via email whether the comment is for Jeremy’s post or my own. His recent posts on white privilege/white guilt (“This is Where White Guilt Comes From”/"The White Privilege of Anti-White Activists") sparked me to write this “reply post” instead of individual comments on each post so as to explain my position and think about the larger issues at play. I think Jeremy’s comments are honest, well reasoned, and well-argued. I think that activists and scholars like Tim Wise can learn something from Jeremy as he relays his personal experiences and effectively places them in a larger context rather than going for sound bites that, to be colloquial for a minute, grinds people’s gears.

My thoughts on the recent posts on white privilege/white guilt are in part agreement with Jeremy. Let me elaborate and be more specific on what Jeremy has alluded to with respect to my comments on being Black and my (learned) reluctance to “argue” my point with “passion” and also the guilt that sometimes ensues from such inactivity on my behalf. I must say that I do not speak to the experiences of all Blacks, let alone all minorities, but do believe that what follows holds some familiarity with many people of color. To put it simply, I can’t show passion for it will be taken as aggression. I always have to hold back and (try to) be the cool, calm, and collected co-participant in debates or even casual conversations otherwise I am painted as the one who shows emotion with physically expressed enthusiasm about my theoretical findings or just my plain old opinion about the most mundane, quotidian things that populate out lives. For reasons rooted in vicious stereotypes, menacing prejudices, and negative external definitions of Blacks (especially Black males), people equate my bark with my bite. I think this is what Jeremy was getting at when he mentioned the conversations we had backstage about me feeling unable or my hesitance to articulate responses when racist comments are made.

But, sometimes, thankfully, I am more than my race. I will be the first to say that I occupy different social spheres of social dominance and subornation. I too feel a guilt of sorts when around other minorities (and sometimes whites) when racist comments are made. When my friend told me about the “Puerto Rican shower,” referencing when one tries to hide the smell of weed with Axe cologne, I knew the comments that followed could not be good. I am male so when I don’t stand up against sexist comments made against males or females, even when made by women, I feel a little twinge in the pit of my stomach. Though more spiritual than religious, when people make prejudiced statements about those from other religions, I feel that pain as well. I actually felt guilty when I didn’t say anything when Nick Cannon, in his zeal to be savior of all those dark and female, inadvisable and deleteriously employs the female gender as a tool to ridicule Eminem by calling him “Miss.” I am heterosexual and insidious, homophobic comments simply piss me off.

The underlying thing that we get out of talking about privilege and guilt is this false bifurcated world between those with and those without, as I have mentioned before. I think we need to be conscious of the multiple identities which make up who were are. Patriarchy is, in many ways, as dangerous as racism, sexism as dangerous as homophobia, depending on the person (or people in question) and especially the ways in which these prejudices as reinforced by structural factors via the job market, housing, and the like.

However, I recognize that this reality is only* in public. As I told my friends, the public Anthony is PC and docile compared to the more private Tony. And with that said, I argue that the private sphere offers a more complex realm of interactions, both real and symbolic.

I say that the private sphere is more complicated because it usually serves as a safe space where things are said without the worry of being held up to public scrutiny. As we used to say back home, one is not held susceptible to social crucifixion. This is for all races, sexes, creed, classes, and colors. Where I believe the differences are purged is the unique experience of certain populations in this country. Some individuals, because of their phenotypic construction, chromosomal make-up, sexual orientation, know the true meaning behind the old saying, “You got to laugh to keep from crying.” The pains of being Black in America, a woman in America, a non-white, non-middle class, non-male… to be an “other” in America is painful and sometimes we laugh at and make jokes about instances that cause us pain in the public sphere when we retreat to the private sphere just to make it to the next day. A close friend of mine in our cohort talked to me about why she considers drug use as a mental health and not a criminal justice problem for inner city Blacks, for instance. I think about Ntozake Shange's insightful play, For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide When the Rainbow Is Enuf. I think about what does it mean when life becomes such a battle that it forces Sam Cooke to say that “It’s been too hard living but I’m afraid to die, Cause I don’t know what’s up there beyond the sky”? I think back to that prolific prophet Malcolm X when he responds to Plato and says, “the examined life is painful.” And who else is under the panoptical gaze of society more than those considered “other”?

This is why it is hard for me to talk about guilt: the private sphere and the public sphere; what is said and where; what is said and why. I appreciate those who attempt to outline the ways in which privilege works to continue the subordination of others but caution us all not to focus on one variable, one component of who were are. It is important that honest, open, and more comprehensive conversations be had.

Kansas City Club Owner Hates Rap Music (And Black People)

Hip hop legend DJ Jazzy Jeff was slated to perform last Saturday night at Kansas City’s KC Live, a club in the city’s Power & Light District. For those that live under a pop culture rock, DJ Jazzy Jeff won the first rap Grammy with Will Smith in 1988 and later co-starred with him on The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. The legendary DJ’s show in Kansas City was free to the public, sponsored in part by VH1’s Save The Music Foundation.

On Saturday night, everything seemed to be going well until Jeff started spinning hip hop music. I know what you’re thinking: Who would expect a legendary hip hop DJ to play hip hop at a paid club performance? Trust me, I was shocked too. Well, the club owners weren’t having it, and the bouncers Uncle Philip Banks-ed him out of their club. Cruel, cruel irony.

The back story proves much more serious—and much more problematic. Apparently, the owner of KC Live has been on some sort of a crusade against gangs, baggy pants, and rap music. And, by extension, black people.

David Cordish, chairman of The Cordish, Co., owns KC Live and controls much of the Power & Light District. In October of 2008, Cordish demanded greater police presence against “gangs” in the Power & Light District. He accused the police of being “soft” on gang violence, and demanded they enforce a zero tolerance policy. But how many robberies, muggings, or assaults in the Power & Light District occurred at the hands of gangs? More importantly, how many robberies, muggings, or assaults occurred at all? No one knows, including Cordish. And that’s the problem—what makes Cordish suspect gang violence? Could he be referring to Kansas City’s young black population, many of whom frequent the Power & Light District? See, in contemporary American vernacular, “gang” is a loaded—and racialized—term. Where others see African-American partygoers, Cordish sees potential gang members.

A racially charged pattern emerges when we take a close look at KC Live’s oddly and suspiciously specific dress code. Look, I’ve heard of dress codes at clubs before, most along the lines of “No tennis shoes” or “No hats.” I guess that’s fine—you know, maybe the club wants to appear upscale or classy. But Cordish and KC Live ban “Shorts below the calves,” “White t’s” and…wait for it…“Towels.” Yes, towels. Sandals, a blue t-shirt and jeans? No problem. Timberland boots, a white t-shirt and a towel? Find another club.

There are a few things going on here. First, Cordish is taking the “No shirt, no shoes, no service” policy to the racial extreme. It’s as if he surveyed Kansas City’s large black population, made a list of their major fashion trends, and then slapped the list on the front door of his club under a “Not Allowed” banner. Second, the club is marketed as a “Top 40” establishment, yet prohibits hip hop. Check out any Top 40 list from the past 15 years—hip hop is well represented. This contradiction in music policy is a not-so-subtle, yet still implicit message that blacks (and their cultural forms) are not welcome at KC Live. Indeed, that was the exact reason DJ Jazzy Jeff was booted from the stage: He played Biz Markie’s famous hip hop ballad “Just a Friend.” Yes, the same Biz Markie song you can hear playing in Heineken’s most recent national TV ad spot.

Critics of The Cordish, Co. have called the club’s policies racist—and they’re right. Power & Light District? Try Power & White District, as many folks have started referring to the area. It’s obvious which racial group the company is targeting, and it has apparently exacerbated pre-existing racial tensions throughout the city.

Banning baggy jeans, like banning hip hop, is a clever way to enact racist policy under the guise of “race-neutral” codes and guidelines. It’s the contemporary, “color blind” variant of Jim Crow-era legislation of black bodies. Hip hop music doesn’t incite violence, and black t-shirts are no more acceptable than white ones. The message from Cordish is loud and clear: No black music, no black fashion trends, no black cultural forms. No blacks allowed.

This Is Where White Guilt Comes From

It’s funny, I never really thought too much about liberal white guilt until I came to graduate school at Harvard. Now that I’m here in Cambridge, it seems to be a reoccurring topic of conversation. I don’t know, maybe the election of Barack Obama has made us think more about racial privilege. Or maybe it was conservative pundits informing me that the only reason I voted for him was my liberal, white guilt. Apparently, I just can’t seem to make a rational decision, with all that guilt building up inside me. Nor am I able to think critically about race, of course. I can’t see straight because of my overwhelming racial guilt, you see. And I just want to give people of color a leg up, even if they are “unqualified.” Damn whiteness, screwing with my moral compass!

White guilt always struck me as an interesting concept. You know, it’s like, why shouldn’t we feel guilty about things like racism and sexism, and feel a certain personal obligation to work for greater equality? I guess it can often cloud our thoughts, and cause us well-meaning white liberals to act paternalistic or reckless in search of diversity or social justice. My mom is going to kill me for writing this...but I know firsthand what it’s like to be around a, shall we say, overzealous racial liberal. She means well, but sometimes I just had to shake my head growing up.

Just like I think it’s possible to put white privilege in check, and be cognizant of my own racial advantage, so too do I think that it’s possible to keep liberal white guilt at bay. Well, at least that’s what I thought. While visiting my girlfriend’s family in Cleveland a few weeks ago, I faced a situation that helped me understand the basis of white guilt.

It was Saturday night. My girlfriend and I went out to dinner at a local chain restaurant in a (predominantly Jewish) neighboring suburb of Cleveland. Being the aspiring social scientist I am, I made the observation that the restaurant was about 50% white and 50% black. Having now spent a couple of years with me, my girlfriend has picked up on my knack for observing racial dynamics everywhere I go. She replied that she also noticed the balanced proportions.

After dinner we went to her friend’s house to hang out for a bit. Including my girlfriend and me, there were seven (white) people at the house, all gathered around the TV watching a Chris Tucker movie. She made the casual comment to the group, “We went to X restaurant tonight. It was interesting; about half white, half black. I don’t remember it being that mixed when we went to high school.” One of her friend’s roommates, flipping through a GQ magazine (I’m not making this up), fixed his collared shirt and nonchalantly chimed in: “It’s been happening for years. It used to be a cool place to hangout. It would be cool, if it wasn’t for all the schvartzes.”

These are the moments that public intellectuals like Tim Wise thrive on. The kind of situation in which you put a bigot in his place, telling him that it’s not right to use Yiddish slurs for black folks. In White Like Me, Wise goes through strategies to put white privilege in check, particularly when racist “jokes” or slurs are made amongst white friends. But I didn’t use any of Wise’s strategies. I didn’t come up with any witty response. I didn’t say, “What are you afraid of? That you will catch some sort of black disease? That their blackness will rub off on you? That somehow, being in proximity to black people will hurt your good time? This isn’t the Jim Crow South—do you expect blacks to eat at different restaurants, and frequent different stores? Are you that ignorant?” I didn’t say any of that. I didn’t demand that he clarify his insult, noting that the blacks at the restaurant that night were by and large middle-aged, and middle class (though, it shouldn’t matter). I didn’t yell, I didn’t laugh it off, I didn’t do anything. I just sat there, mind running a million miles a minute, seething with anger.

The rage continued to build up, but I didn’t say a word. I was paralyzed, shocked, stunned. I sat there, silent, and silenced by my inability to articulate a powerful response. Chris Tucker made a joke on TV, and everyone laughed. My window of opportunity to say something, anything, passed. I wanted to say, “It’s cool to laugh at their jokes, but God forbid they want to go to the same restaurant as you.” But I didn’t.

It’s moments like this—moments when we are tested and fail to respond to racism—that leave a lasting imprint and a simmering rage in the very depths of our souls. I feel ashamed that I let his comment go unchecked, and personally responsible for similar situations that occur daily. I caught a glimpse of casual, recreational racism. And I did nothing. And it made me sick.

I realized, this is where white guilt comes from.

The Spatial Causes of Racism

Nate Silver is definitely one of my favorite bloggers out there. He is the main voice behind FiveThirtyEight.com, a fantastic source for statistical analyses of political trends and voting patterns.

The above video is from a 9 minute presentation he gave at a TED conference this past February. During the talk, he discussed the topic of race during the 2008 election. More specifically, he asks the provocative question, “Can we predict racism?”

From a strictly statistical standpoint, the answer, apparently, is “Yes.” While he doesn’t get into the specifics of his methods, it looks like he ran a few linear regressions to look at the association between individuals admitting that race was a deciding factor in their vote and voting for McCain. In states like Arkansas and Tennessee, there was a very strong relationship between voting against Obama and saying that race mattered in that decision, suggesting racist voting patterns.

Around the 6 minute mark, he gets into a fascinating discussion of why this may be so. You can check it out for yourself, but the gist of his argument is that racist voters tended to live in mono-racial neighborhoods (i.e. didn’t live near any minorities). This social isolation predicts (statistically) racist voting.

In the social sciences, we typical discuss social isolation in terms of the urban poor. The general idea is that the urban poor tend to live in neighborhoods of concentrated poverty, and this spatial concentration, in turn, isolates these communities from mainstream resources, role models, and social networks.

Silver’s analysis is so fascinating because he applies this same concept to white, suburban neighborhoods. He compares the grid-style format of streets that typically defines a city to the cul-de-sac and dead-end model of suburban sprawl. He argues that the grid format of city blocks facilitates interaction among residents, while sprawl spatially disconnects residents from one another. In a sense, land-use patterns provide a spatial determinant for racism. In other words, the way your neighborhood was built may influence how you view people of different races and ethnicities.

I’m not convinced that we can actually predict racism, but I do agree that analyzing land-use patterns and more equitable, sustainable urban environments could make serious inroads in our fight against racism. Check out the video; there’s a lot of interesting questions to think about.