I just returned from a conference, where I spoke on a panel about racial identities. I used a phrase, "racial pentagram" that someone, over lunch, asked me about. I confess--this is not a term that I coined; rather, I've seen it in more than one source, but I like using it because it conveys the sense of race that I want to get across--that we often talk, mysteriously and mystically, about race as this five-pronged entity, as if we can neatly divide people in the U.S. into these five categories: white, black, Native American, Asian American, and Latino. But of course, there are two main myths involved: these categories are not "pure"--after all, "Latino" is an amalgamation, in and of itself, of various indigenous, European, and African people who collided and co-habitated post-Columbian contact in South/North/Latin America and the Caribbean. And then there are people who bridge more than one of these prongs: mixed-race Americans.
At the conference it was clear that the people in attendance at the panel, and at the conference overall, wanted to move away from the notion of racial purity and to talk in more complex ways about race. But you know, even among academics immersed in this work, it's hard to fully realize that race is both a fiction AND a fact of everyday life. And it's hard to admit that even for those of us who make a living studying and reading and researching and writing about race--we still have our blind spots when it comes to talking about all this stuff.
But I do think it's important to do this work--to talk about it. I know that there are people who think that we are talked-out about race. And I think that there has been a proliferation of a certain type of conversation about race in the last 20 years--one that emphasizes a multicultural rhetoric more appropriate for tee-shirt slogans than honest dialogue. "Love sees no color" or "One world, one race" or "Kiss me I'm human" are nice, utopian sentiments but don't push back on where we need to be pushed and don't get at the issues of anger and frustration, fear and anxiety, that most everyone experiences when talking about race.
Interestingly enough, post-Obama "race" speech, there have been a slew of news pieces (tv, radio, print) about how we can have this "conversation on race" and how we can do it in a new way. Although there are some, who rightly are suspicious that this is just lip service and will go the way of the national dialogue on race that Bill Clinton initiated ten years ago, there are others (yours truly among them) who doesn't want this moment to pass and to really PUSH to talk about it--because people already have been talking about it. We just haven't figured out how to talk together.
Anyway, a few links to articles if you want to read more about the difficulty of talking about race but the desire to do so:
AP wire piece, "Where should conversation on race start"
New York Times editorial, "Race and the social contract"
and another New York Times article, "Who are we? New dialogue on mixed race"
Monday, March 31, 2008
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Furnishing your racist kitchen
IMAGINARY SCENARIO:
"Gee, I wish I knew of a design store that suited my desire to inappropriately stereotype different ethnic and racial groups...one that made kitchen accessories that might offend my more politically correct friends"
BUT WAIT! THERE IS SUCH A STORE!
Welcome to Pylones, a Parisian design store that also has a U.S. branch (and online presence). At Pylones, you can get the following:
A vegetable peeler with the face of a "Chinese" woman
A pot lid cover in the shape of a rice-paddy hat, with an "Oriental" face.
A rice bowl with an "Oriental" face, wearing, of course, a rice-paddy hat.
And for those wanting to expand their racist kitchenware beyond the "Orientalist" realm:
A peppermill of an "African" woman
*But really, you have your choice of 6 different peppermill designs, including a "Native American" woman and "Inuit" woman (see below):
To see all six peppermills (there's a "Chinese" one if you want to continue the "Oriental" motif of your kitchen), click here.
[I originally saw these this afternoon in a boutique store, that also happened to sell a line of bath products called "Miso-Pretty"--it was a banner day for "Oriental" merchandise.]
"Gee, I wish I knew of a design store that suited my desire to inappropriately stereotype different ethnic and racial groups...one that made kitchen accessories that might offend my more politically correct friends"
BUT WAIT! THERE IS SUCH A STORE!
Welcome to Pylones, a Parisian design store that also has a U.S. branch (and online presence). At Pylones, you can get the following:
A vegetable peeler with the face of a "Chinese" woman
A pot lid cover in the shape of a rice-paddy hat, with an "Oriental" face.
A rice bowl with an "Oriental" face, wearing, of course, a rice-paddy hat.
And for those wanting to expand their racist kitchenware beyond the "Orientalist" realm:
A peppermill of an "African" woman
*But really, you have your choice of 6 different peppermill designs, including a "Native American" woman and "Inuit" woman (see below):
To see all six peppermills (there's a "Chinese" one if you want to continue the "Oriental" motif of your kitchen), click here.
[I originally saw these this afternoon in a boutique store, that also happened to sell a line of bath products called "Miso-Pretty"--it was a banner day for "Oriental" merchandise.]
Friday, March 28, 2008
Viva el dia de Cesar Chavez!
Today I spoke with a close friend of mine in California:
Her: "Are you getting Cesar Chavez day off?"
Me: LOUD SUSTAINED LAUGHTER
Her: (laughing too) "Oh yeah, I forgot, you live in the South!"
If ONLY it were so. If ONLY Cesar Chavez day was a national holiday.
For more on the history of Cesar Chavez day, celebrated on March 31 in the great state of California, click here. For more on the life of the Latino labor activist, Cesar Chavez, click here.
Viva Cesar Chavez!
Her: "Are you getting Cesar Chavez day off?"
Me: LOUD SUSTAINED LAUGHTER
Her: (laughing too) "Oh yeah, I forgot, you live in the South!"
If ONLY it were so. If ONLY Cesar Chavez day was a national holiday.
For more on the history of Cesar Chavez day, celebrated on March 31 in the great state of California, click here. For more on the life of the Latino labor activist, Cesar Chavez, click here.
Viva Cesar Chavez!
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Book Plug: Covering by Kenji Yoshino
I have just finished reading Covering: the Hidden Assault on Our Civil Rights by Kenji Yoshino.
Yoshino is a law professor at Yale University and his book (published by Random House) is both a work of legal scholarship as well as a memoir about growing up gay and Japanese American, and his research on issues of civil rights as a Yale law school professor.
His basic argument is that all people cover, in the sense that we hide or mute parts of our identities, our personalities, from the general public--and that this covering demand, made most explicitly on certain groups of people like gay men, racial minorities, and pregnant women, is an assault on civil rights.
Using his own life as a text for interpretation, he traces the stages of his gay identity through three stages: conversion, passing, and covering. He sees covering as a form of assimilation--and tracing the legal precedents of Title VII, he also sees the ways in which the American legal system has sought to create legal jurisprudence that emphasizes a common American culture of conformity.
There are many more things to say about Yoshino's argument and the main message of his book--which is that it is imperative, in our day and age, to think about the covering demands we are placing on people and to understand them as limiting civil rights. As Yoshino writes:
What I appreciate about his book is the elegance of his prose--the way that he weaves his gender/sexual/racial identity into the larger legal narrative he is telling. And that he makes this all very accessible to a broad audience interested in issues of identity, of assimilation, and of course, of civil and human rights.
And if you want to actually see and hear Yoshino discuss these issues (and you have a good 30 minutes to spare), you can hear his lecture at UCLA law school on this clip.
Yoshino is a law professor at Yale University and his book (published by Random House) is both a work of legal scholarship as well as a memoir about growing up gay and Japanese American, and his research on issues of civil rights as a Yale law school professor.
His basic argument is that all people cover, in the sense that we hide or mute parts of our identities, our personalities, from the general public--and that this covering demand, made most explicitly on certain groups of people like gay men, racial minorities, and pregnant women, is an assault on civil rights.
Using his own life as a text for interpretation, he traces the stages of his gay identity through three stages: conversion, passing, and covering. He sees covering as a form of assimilation--and tracing the legal precedents of Title VII, he also sees the ways in which the American legal system has sought to create legal jurisprudence that emphasizes a common American culture of conformity.
There are many more things to say about Yoshino's argument and the main message of his book--which is that it is imperative, in our day and age, to think about the covering demands we are placing on people and to understand them as limiting civil rights. As Yoshino writes:
"We must find a way to protect difference that does not balkanize the country into separate fiefdoms of competing identity groups. We need a new paradigm of civil rights."
What I appreciate about his book is the elegance of his prose--the way that he weaves his gender/sexual/racial identity into the larger legal narrative he is telling. And that he makes this all very accessible to a broad audience interested in issues of identity, of assimilation, and of course, of civil and human rights.
And if you want to actually see and hear Yoshino discuss these issues (and you have a good 30 minutes to spare), you can hear his lecture at UCLA law school on this clip.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
I approve this post
This was the infamous 3am ad that Hillary Clinton ran a few weeks ago:
[If a phone is ringing at 3am in the White House, there is NO WAY it'd continue ringing--and Obama is NOT going to be answering the phone--the White House Switchboard will--I mean, hasn't everyone SEEN The West Wing???]
This is the ad that Casey Knowles, the girl in the stock footage of the original ad (who is now 17) recently made:
[If a phone is ringing at 3am in the White House, there is NO WAY it'd continue ringing--and Obama is NOT going to be answering the phone--the White House Switchboard will--I mean, hasn't everyone SEEN The West Wing???]
This is the ad that Casey Knowles, the girl in the stock footage of the original ad (who is now 17) recently made:
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Calling on McCain to talk about race
Calling all journalists in cyberspace: can you please start asking John McCain to talk about race? I know that there has been scrutiny placed on both Hilary Clinton and Barack Obama over the topic of "race" during this presidential election season. But has anyone asked John McCain about his views on race in America? Don't we think that he HAS opinions about race in America?
The other day a friend and I were talking about the remarkable speech on race delivered by Barack Obama last Tuesday. And she said that he was the only person qualified to talk about race in the way he did--honestly, openly, directly--among the presidential contenders. I agreed, but then I pointed out that there was one other person. I pointed out that John McCain was in a unique position to also talk about his experiences with race in America--most specifically, his relationship with the Vietnamese American community, in particular, and Asian Americans, in general, regarding his use of the slur "gook" back in the run-up to the 2000 presidential elections, when McCain's "Straight Talk Express" took him to use the racial slur, unabashedly--telling reporters that:
"I hate the gooks. And I will hate them as long as I live. You can quote me on this."
I have to say this for McCain--he is a "Straight Talker," if by straight talk you are unabashed in your use of hate-speech.
He immediately issued an apology as the Straight Talk Express headed into the multiracial (and heavily Vietnamese American populated) state of California. And eight years later, very few people (except for some random blog sites and chat boards) seem to have remembered this flap, which also received very little press eight years ago. For more on the original incident back in 2000, you can read about it in The Nation (which also details the free "pass" that McCain seems to have gotten from the news media back in 2000, and which seems to echo the treatment he's getting now), an Orange County article about a small protest by Asian American students, and a San Jose Mercury News piece that also has an excellent op-ed by William Wong at the bottom.
[Aside: if you click on the link for the chat board--the discussion (which began a month ago) is VERY DISTURBING and points to the ways in which anti-Asian sentiment doesn't seem to disturb very many people. In addition to using the phrase "gook" continually, other people have added the full list of racial slurs against Asians, and others recount stories of harassing and beating up Asian American kids they grew up with. Apparently, this is a source of humor, and yet I can't find anything funny about violence and racial profiling]
So why am I bringing it up now?
Because lets imagine that his apology was sincere--that he only meant to refer to the "gooks" he hated as his North Vietnamese torturers (the Asian American studies professor in me has to switch off the critical thinking/skeptical part of my brain here). Lets imagine that he really hasn't used that racial epithet again (or at least in public) and that he has truly worked with the Vietnamese American community in their anti-communist agenda. [aside: these are all things included in his apology--that when he used the phrase "gook" it was meant to refer to his captors rather than to all Vietnamese people or to Asians in general, and McCain is often popular among Vietnamese (specifically South Vietnamese Americans) living in the U.S. for his anti-communist positions--with some leaders going so far as to say that if you are anti-McCain you are pro-communist.]
This places McCain in a unique position to talk openly and honestly about race. To talk about the challenges of being able to distinguish between an enemy abroad during a time of war and a community of people living in the U.S. It would also give him the opportunity to descry anti-Asian violence, since much of anti-Asian violence starts with mistaken ethnic identity (like that enacted against Vincent Chin and others--like Ming Hai "Jim" Loo--a Chinese American man attacked in Raleigh, NC by two brothers who stated that they "hate all Vietnamese").
So why aren't we asking McCain how to have a clear dialogue on race in this country? Shouldn't the man riding (and running) the Straight Talk Express bus be the ideal person to talk, openly, honestly, and directly, about race in America?
The other day a friend and I were talking about the remarkable speech on race delivered by Barack Obama last Tuesday. And she said that he was the only person qualified to talk about race in the way he did--honestly, openly, directly--among the presidential contenders. I agreed, but then I pointed out that there was one other person. I pointed out that John McCain was in a unique position to also talk about his experiences with race in America--most specifically, his relationship with the Vietnamese American community, in particular, and Asian Americans, in general, regarding his use of the slur "gook" back in the run-up to the 2000 presidential elections, when McCain's "Straight Talk Express" took him to use the racial slur, unabashedly--telling reporters that:
"I hate the gooks. And I will hate them as long as I live. You can quote me on this."
I have to say this for McCain--he is a "Straight Talker," if by straight talk you are unabashed in your use of hate-speech.
He immediately issued an apology as the Straight Talk Express headed into the multiracial (and heavily Vietnamese American populated) state of California. And eight years later, very few people (except for some random blog sites and chat boards) seem to have remembered this flap, which also received very little press eight years ago. For more on the original incident back in 2000, you can read about it in The Nation (which also details the free "pass" that McCain seems to have gotten from the news media back in 2000, and which seems to echo the treatment he's getting now), an Orange County article about a small protest by Asian American students, and a San Jose Mercury News piece that also has an excellent op-ed by William Wong at the bottom.
[Aside: if you click on the link for the chat board--the discussion (which began a month ago) is VERY DISTURBING and points to the ways in which anti-Asian sentiment doesn't seem to disturb very many people. In addition to using the phrase "gook" continually, other people have added the full list of racial slurs against Asians, and others recount stories of harassing and beating up Asian American kids they grew up with. Apparently, this is a source of humor, and yet I can't find anything funny about violence and racial profiling]
So why am I bringing it up now?
Because lets imagine that his apology was sincere--that he only meant to refer to the "gooks" he hated as his North Vietnamese torturers (the Asian American studies professor in me has to switch off the critical thinking/skeptical part of my brain here). Lets imagine that he really hasn't used that racial epithet again (or at least in public) and that he has truly worked with the Vietnamese American community in their anti-communist agenda. [aside: these are all things included in his apology--that when he used the phrase "gook" it was meant to refer to his captors rather than to all Vietnamese people or to Asians in general, and McCain is often popular among Vietnamese (specifically South Vietnamese Americans) living in the U.S. for his anti-communist positions--with some leaders going so far as to say that if you are anti-McCain you are pro-communist.]
This places McCain in a unique position to talk openly and honestly about race. To talk about the challenges of being able to distinguish between an enemy abroad during a time of war and a community of people living in the U.S. It would also give him the opportunity to descry anti-Asian violence, since much of anti-Asian violence starts with mistaken ethnic identity (like that enacted against Vincent Chin and others--like Ming Hai "Jim" Loo--a Chinese American man attacked in Raleigh, NC by two brothers who stated that they "hate all Vietnamese").
So why aren't we asking McCain how to have a clear dialogue on race in this country? Shouldn't the man riding (and running) the Straight Talk Express bus be the ideal person to talk, openly, honestly, and directly, about race in America?
Monday, March 24, 2008
Expecting more from some "others"--is it fair?
Recently I was at a conference and found myself talking to a well-known feminist scholar. She taught at Research U. in Rural Town USA but disclosed during the course of conversation that she actually lived in Big City. When someone in our group commented about the long commute, she replied that it was 15 minutes by plane. And when someone else commented that this was one way to handle a long commute, she replied, "Well what other option do I have? To live in Rural Town?"
Her tone was fairly dismissive and final. That was an end to THAT discussion.
I've never been to Rural Town USA, but I would imagine that for the people who do live there--who teach at Research U and reside in the town where it sits, they do not have the option of a 15 minute commute to Big City. And even if they did, I'm not sure that everyone would take such an option.
I was turned off. I was disappointed. My first thought when she mentioned the 15 minute commute by plane was the size of her carbon footprint and wondering if she had seen INCONVENIENT TRUTH. My second thought upon hearing her dismiss living in Rural Town out of hand (and the veiled contempt at the thought that she'd have to live there) was the outright arrogance of such an assertion--how it smacked of elitism.
And the thought I am left with--that really informs the main point of this post is: I expected more of her. Because she is a feminist scholar. But is that fair? If she was a Renaissance scholar--if she was an Economics professor--if she was a Chemist--would I be turned off? If she were an Environmental Studies researcher, I'd think she was being hypocritical or in denial, but is there anything incommensurate with what she studies and a 15 minute plane ride and dismissive attitude about Rural Town? Why was my third reaction--and the persistent nagging in the back of my head--that as a feminist scholar--someone who works on ending gender/sexual oppression--that I expect MORE of her.
Being a feminist certainly doesn't preclude one from being elitist or environmentally un-friendly. But the carbon footprint aside, it was the sheer disdain for Rural Town that rankled me--that I would have expected a famous feminist scholar to be a bit more politic and polite, perhaps? But why should my expectations of a feminist scholar be any different? It's unfair, perhaps, but it is true. It's the same sense of disquiet I have when learning that a well known post-colonial critic has her grad students pick up her dry cleaning. Or discovering that a prestigious scholar of African American literature is a notorious womanizer. I'm not trying to idealize academics--we are an all too human bunch. But I've made certain assumptions about the kinds of scholarship that people do--ones that emphasize an end to oppression--or a recognition of oppression--so seeing someone, hearing someone, witnessing someone make remarks or live in a way that seems at odds with their research, doesn't feel right to me. Even as I question whether it's fair that I ask more of these people than I do of others.
Which reminds me, of course, of the way we are talking about race in politics--directing the discourse at the Democrats while what are we expecting of Republicans--why do we hold certain others more accountable?
Her tone was fairly dismissive and final. That was an end to THAT discussion.
I've never been to Rural Town USA, but I would imagine that for the people who do live there--who teach at Research U and reside in the town where it sits, they do not have the option of a 15 minute commute to Big City. And even if they did, I'm not sure that everyone would take such an option.
I was turned off. I was disappointed. My first thought when she mentioned the 15 minute commute by plane was the size of her carbon footprint and wondering if she had seen INCONVENIENT TRUTH. My second thought upon hearing her dismiss living in Rural Town out of hand (and the veiled contempt at the thought that she'd have to live there) was the outright arrogance of such an assertion--how it smacked of elitism.
And the thought I am left with--that really informs the main point of this post is: I expected more of her. Because she is a feminist scholar. But is that fair? If she was a Renaissance scholar--if she was an Economics professor--if she was a Chemist--would I be turned off? If she were an Environmental Studies researcher, I'd think she was being hypocritical or in denial, but is there anything incommensurate with what she studies and a 15 minute plane ride and dismissive attitude about Rural Town? Why was my third reaction--and the persistent nagging in the back of my head--that as a feminist scholar--someone who works on ending gender/sexual oppression--that I expect MORE of her.
Being a feminist certainly doesn't preclude one from being elitist or environmentally un-friendly. But the carbon footprint aside, it was the sheer disdain for Rural Town that rankled me--that I would have expected a famous feminist scholar to be a bit more politic and polite, perhaps? But why should my expectations of a feminist scholar be any different? It's unfair, perhaps, but it is true. It's the same sense of disquiet I have when learning that a well known post-colonial critic has her grad students pick up her dry cleaning. Or discovering that a prestigious scholar of African American literature is a notorious womanizer. I'm not trying to idealize academics--we are an all too human bunch. But I've made certain assumptions about the kinds of scholarship that people do--ones that emphasize an end to oppression--or a recognition of oppression--so seeing someone, hearing someone, witnessing someone make remarks or live in a way that seems at odds with their research, doesn't feel right to me. Even as I question whether it's fair that I ask more of these people than I do of others.
Which reminds me, of course, of the way we are talking about race in politics--directing the discourse at the Democrats while what are we expecting of Republicans--why do we hold certain others more accountable?
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Excuse me, America, can we talk about race now?
Dear America,
By now, like everyone else, I'm sure you have heard the speech Barack Obama delivered in Philadelphia (here's a link in case you missed it). It's been about 24+ hours since he ended his much heralded "speech on race," and I've read some of the punditry and reactions from the blogosphere and listened to NPR (because, you know I'm a liberal-progressive, don't you?), and I realized that I really wanted to hear from YOU.
America, what do YOU think about Obama's speech? Or, more particularly, what do you think about the issue of race? There has been all sorts of speculation about who that speech was intended for. To assure/placate African Americans. To sympathize with/pander to working class white Americans. To inspire/mollify intellectual-progressive types. People on the right have accused him of simply using pretty words and empty rhetoric to hide the fact that he sat in a church pew for 20 years listening to anti-American racist hate speech. People on the left feel uplifted by his words, but are also unsure of how this speech will help advance his presidential bid.
But beyond these kind of partisan, presidential nomination politics, what did you think about the content of his speech America? About the sense of a divided America--about the anger by black Americans and white Americans? Although he focused on working class whites, I actually think that there is a fair amount of anger and frustration that white Americans feel. And there is a certain amount of anger and frustration that the rest of the racial pentagram (American Indian, Latinos, and Asian Americans) also feel.
WHY?
Why are we all so angry and frustrated over the same topic, and yet we are angry and frustrated over different aspects of the same topic? I must confess, as non-white American, I don't really understand white anger and frustration. I don't understand why a commenter who wrote in a while back (and I didn't allow the comment to go through) called me a racist for writing about race. And why others have talked about the "racialists" who want to turn everything into a matter of race when they believe race doesn't matter. Or the white pundits who claim that we are living in a post-racial society. Or questions by colleagues of mine who have asked me whether I think Barack Obama transcends race.
Why, America, do people (and it seems like the people who raise this issue are often white Americans, although perhaps non-white Americans also believe this too) believe that talking about race is the same thing as being racist? Do they just not have a basic understanding of racism--the institutional force that existed prior to race? Why don't they see race and racism the way that I do? The way that others do? Why do they act like talking about race is a bad thing--is rude--is unnecessary--that even drawing attention to race is the same as being racist?
I've already written about how we can be oversensitive about race. I know I have been extra- and over- and in- sensitive about race throughout my lifetime. But I also believe that ignoring a problem isn't going to make it go away. And we DO have a problem, America. It is a problem that half of you thinks that race isn't a problem and the other half believes that it is. And I'm not dividing your halves by "race" or along political lines--I think that these two halves, while maybe comprising more of one category than another, are also mixed.
I guess I'm asking, America--how do we really start to talk about race? And by really talking about it--I do mean to talk about it in a respectful manner. To talk about it in a way where people will, inevitably, feel uncomfortable, feel offended, feel angry and hurt and sad, and yet where a real conversation can happen--where we can really challenge each other and make something PRODUCTIVE come out of the conversation? How can we talk about race, respectfully, without name calling--agreeing to disagree, while still hearing each other?
I'm a teacher--I want to be able to hear someone who believes talking about race is the same as racism and have that person explain, to me, how s/he believes that this is true--and then I want him/her to listen to me when I explain my definition of racism and why I think talking about race is a good thing for everyone.
So America, if you have some time--please let me know. I think most people who read this blog are people who are, more or less, on the same "side" as me--but I hope that there will be some people--beyond the choir that I talk about preaching to--who will want to chime in and talk about their own frustration with race from their more conservative perspective.
[11:29am Correction: I just re-read the above sentence and it sounds so condescending--which I didn't mean it to sound like when I originally wrote it--because I am trying to get beyond this binary of a "racial divide" and the sense of there being "sides"--but I did want to try to acknowledge that for people who may have been reading my blog for a few weeks or months, you are probably people who agree with a few basic tenets I have: that racism is bad, that talking about race is good. Anyway, my apologies for the above tone--also, because I'm still a neophyte blogger, I can't quite figure out a way to do that nifty strike-out thing that shows how one is self-consciously editing--hence this odd interruption/correction.]
So to that end, I'm allowing anonymous comments for the next 24 hours in the hopes that I can reach a wider audience of people who can say what they want to say in a respectful manner, but without worrying about revealing their real (or even pseudonymous) identity. I will still reserve the right to moderate, but aside from ad-hominem attacks and really egregious comments, I'll probably let people speak for themselves.
Thanks America--I'm eager to hear what you have to say.
Sincerely,
The Blogger of Mixed Race America
PS. Getting back to the Obama speech--I do think that one of the most positive things to emerge from his speech is that people are talking about race--and that various groups (beyond the pundits and talking-blogging heads) are demonstrating a real desire to have honest and productive conversations about race--here's a New York Times article that shows the various groups who are initiating dialogues about race inspired by the content of Obama's speech.
By now, like everyone else, I'm sure you have heard the speech Barack Obama delivered in Philadelphia (here's a link in case you missed it). It's been about 24+ hours since he ended his much heralded "speech on race," and I've read some of the punditry and reactions from the blogosphere and listened to NPR (because, you know I'm a liberal-progressive, don't you?), and I realized that I really wanted to hear from YOU.
America, what do YOU think about Obama's speech? Or, more particularly, what do you think about the issue of race? There has been all sorts of speculation about who that speech was intended for. To assure/placate African Americans. To sympathize with/pander to working class white Americans. To inspire/mollify intellectual-progressive types. People on the right have accused him of simply using pretty words and empty rhetoric to hide the fact that he sat in a church pew for 20 years listening to anti-American racist hate speech. People on the left feel uplifted by his words, but are also unsure of how this speech will help advance his presidential bid.
But beyond these kind of partisan, presidential nomination politics, what did you think about the content of his speech America? About the sense of a divided America--about the anger by black Americans and white Americans? Although he focused on working class whites, I actually think that there is a fair amount of anger and frustration that white Americans feel. And there is a certain amount of anger and frustration that the rest of the racial pentagram (American Indian, Latinos, and Asian Americans) also feel.
WHY?
Why are we all so angry and frustrated over the same topic, and yet we are angry and frustrated over different aspects of the same topic? I must confess, as non-white American, I don't really understand white anger and frustration. I don't understand why a commenter who wrote in a while back (and I didn't allow the comment to go through) called me a racist for writing about race. And why others have talked about the "racialists" who want to turn everything into a matter of race when they believe race doesn't matter. Or the white pundits who claim that we are living in a post-racial society. Or questions by colleagues of mine who have asked me whether I think Barack Obama transcends race.
Why, America, do people (and it seems like the people who raise this issue are often white Americans, although perhaps non-white Americans also believe this too) believe that talking about race is the same thing as being racist? Do they just not have a basic understanding of racism--the institutional force that existed prior to race? Why don't they see race and racism the way that I do? The way that others do? Why do they act like talking about race is a bad thing--is rude--is unnecessary--that even drawing attention to race is the same as being racist?
I've already written about how we can be oversensitive about race. I know I have been extra- and over- and in- sensitive about race throughout my lifetime. But I also believe that ignoring a problem isn't going to make it go away. And we DO have a problem, America. It is a problem that half of you thinks that race isn't a problem and the other half believes that it is. And I'm not dividing your halves by "race" or along political lines--I think that these two halves, while maybe comprising more of one category than another, are also mixed.
I guess I'm asking, America--how do we really start to talk about race? And by really talking about it--I do mean to talk about it in a respectful manner. To talk about it in a way where people will, inevitably, feel uncomfortable, feel offended, feel angry and hurt and sad, and yet where a real conversation can happen--where we can really challenge each other and make something PRODUCTIVE come out of the conversation? How can we talk about race, respectfully, without name calling--agreeing to disagree, while still hearing each other?
I'm a teacher--I want to be able to hear someone who believes talking about race is the same as racism and have that person explain, to me, how s/he believes that this is true--and then I want him/her to listen to me when I explain my definition of racism and why I think talking about race is a good thing for everyone.
So America, if you have some time--please let me know. I think most people who read this blog are people who are, more or less, on the same "side" as me--but I hope that there will be some people--beyond the choir that I talk about preaching to--who will want to chime in and talk about their own frustration with race from their more conservative perspective.
[11:29am Correction: I just re-read the above sentence and it sounds so condescending--which I didn't mean it to sound like when I originally wrote it--because I am trying to get beyond this binary of a "racial divide" and the sense of there being "sides"--but I did want to try to acknowledge that for people who may have been reading my blog for a few weeks or months, you are probably people who agree with a few basic tenets I have: that racism is bad, that talking about race is good. Anyway, my apologies for the above tone--also, because I'm still a neophyte blogger, I can't quite figure out a way to do that nifty strike-out thing that shows how one is self-consciously editing--hence this odd interruption/correction.]
So to that end, I'm allowing anonymous comments for the next 24 hours in the hopes that I can reach a wider audience of people who can say what they want to say in a respectful manner, but without worrying about revealing their real (or even pseudonymous) identity. I will still reserve the right to moderate, but aside from ad-hominem attacks and really egregious comments, I'll probably let people speak for themselves.
Thanks America--I'm eager to hear what you have to say.
Sincerely,
The Blogger of Mixed Race America
PS. Getting back to the Obama speech--I do think that one of the most positive things to emerge from his speech is that people are talking about race--and that various groups (beyond the pundits and talking-blogging heads) are demonstrating a real desire to have honest and productive conversations about race--here's a New York Times article that shows the various groups who are initiating dialogues about race inspired by the content of Obama's speech.
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