Over my many years of discussing the topic of race with
college students I’ve noticed the prevalence of certain themes that arise in my
conversations with whites.
1. While there are still a few racist people around – (and
it’s because they’re older. They can’t really help it. This really freaks me
out when I realize that the people in question may very well be younger than I
am) – racism is over and was solved by the Civil Rights Movement, Martin Luther
King Jr., “I Have a Dream,” and all that.
2. If anything, it’s white people who are victims of racism
through affirmative action policies. Students usually bring up the unfairness
of “minority scholarships” here.
3. We should strive to be colorblind because talking about
race just makes it worse.
When I did my dissertation research among high school
students a few years ago I found that the very same attitudes prevailed. What
interested me most was that these attitudes existed among white students who
held close friendships with students of color. I discovered that in the midst
of these friendships there was a great chasm regarding belief about the topic
of racism.
Over the past few years this chasm seemed to widen over the
shootings of unarmed youth like Trayvon Martin in Florida and Michael Brown in
Ferguson, MO. I noticed that opinions about these incidents are highly
polarized among white and black people, even in places like churches where
diverse groups of people share religious beliefs and maintain close
friendships.
Although I wrote The R
Word before these events took place, my purpose was to explore this
phenomenon. The R Word tells the
story of Rachel Matrone, an Italian American, suburban teenager who is being
raised by her grandparents and police detective uncles. Rachel, like many of
the youth I’ve talked to, believes racism is over and is happy she lives in a
world where everyone is equal. Rachel’s ideas about race are challenged,
however, when she forms friendships with youth of color and begins to see the
world from their perspectives. She becomes especially close with an African
American boy named Henry. One afternoon around Christmas time, unbeknownst to
her family, Rachel takes a ride with Henry in his broken down car, and they are
pulled over by a white police officer. While Henry is visibly shaken by the encounter,
Rachel soon recognizes the officer as an acquaintance of her uncle and responds
to his questions impatiently. After the
cop lets them go with a warning, Rachel’s only concern is that her uncle will
find out she’s with Henry, while Henry is upset for a totally different reason.
Here’s the conversation that follows:
(Henry speaking):
“Do you have any idea what happened back
there?”
“You mean the cop? I told you, it’s okay. I
don’t care if he tells my uncle. I’m kind of glad, in a way.”
“Your uncle? Your uncle! Who cares about your
uncle? You could have gotten me into serious trouble back there!”
Henry hardly ever raised his voice, but he
was getting louder with every word. Rachel tried to understand.
“What are you talking about? You didn’t do
anything wrong.”
“You just don’t get it, do you? You don’t
have to do anything wrong to get in trouble. It’s called DWB—driving while
black.”
“What?”
“You heard me. When a black kid, especially a
guy, gets pulled over by a white cop, there’s a certain way to act to avoid trouble.
You gotta be respectful, and quiet. You don’t give the cop any excuse to go off on you, and the last
thing you want to do is smart-mouth him and try to stare him down. Are you crazy?”
Rachel thought back
to the incident at the mall while shopping for Sister Gloria’s wallet. “Oh,”
she said. “I’m sorry. I guess I forgot.”
Henry sighed, and
Rachel felt some of his anger dissolve. “Rachel, there’re certain rules you
can’t forget when you’re with me.”
“But you act like
every cop is out to get you.” She thought about her uncles. “They’re not all
racist, you know.”
“I know that, and
I’m not saying they are. But you never know, and you don’t want to take a
chance. Why do you think my family’s always warning me to be careful,
especially when
I’m driving in a
white area? Did you think they’re afraid I’ll trip and skin my knee?”
“Are you saying your
family doesn’t trust white people?” Rachel felt herself getting defensive. “Isn’t
that racist, too?”
“Call it whatever
you want. There’s reasons. It’s reality.”
The conversation ends there and the two drive on to Henry’s
house, where they spend the afternoon decorating his Christmas tree with his
family. Rachel remains perplexed about Henry’s reaction, though, and later that
day they meet up with some friends for a movie. During a trip to the ladies
room (where all the best conversations happen), Rachel looks to her Hispanic
friend, Sandra, for advice.
“So how was tree decorating?” Sandra asked
over the sounds of flushing, running water and hand dryers.
“It was fun. Getting there was a little
tricky, though.”
“What do you mean? Don’t tell me Henry’s car
stalled out again.”
“No, it’s just that there was a ton of
traffic, and then we got pulled over by a cop on the highway.”
“Oh. That’s scary.”
“I didn’t think it was that scary, but Henry
sort of freaked out.”
“Was the cop white?” Sandra had a way of
getting right to the heart of the matter, and, for once, Rachel was glad.
“Yeah.”
“What do you expect?”
“But that’s just it. The cop was a little
rude, maybe, but he wasn’t that bad. Henry got all nervous. Then he got mad at
me after.”
“How come?”
“It turned out I knew the cop
from my uncles. So I argued with him a little—all I said was that we weren’t
doing anything wrong. And we weren’t. He wound up letting us go with
a warning.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“It’s just that Henry was
convinced this had something to do with race, like he was pulled over because
he’s black and not because his car sounds like it might explode any second. I don’t
get it. Anybody could have been stopped in that car. And I’ve heard of white
kids getting picked on by cops sometimes, too. Maybe this had nothing to do
with race.” Rachel was so intent on her words that she didn’t realize how loud
she had become. An African-American woman standing in line in front of them
glanced back and raised her eyebrows.
Sandra took Rachel’s arm, turning
her until they angled the wall. “Maybe it didn’t,” she whispered. “But maybe it
did. That’s the thing—if a white kid gets stopped, right or wrong,
he knows it isn’t about race. But
Henry can never know that for sure, can he? In his mind, there’s always the
possibility that it is.”
“Oh. I never thought of it that
way.”
“Of course not. You never had to.
Go.” She pointed Rachel toward the open stall in front of them and that was the
end of the conversation.
Through this scene I tried to show the dilemma faced by
people of color in a variety of situations, whether being stopped by police,
applying for a job or an apartment, waiting for a cab, being followed around by
store employees, or, for kids, being disciplined at school by a white teacher.
Like Henry in my story, they can never really know for sure if race plays a
part, and in their minds, there’s always the possibility that it does. So, many
white people had trouble understanding the response of anger and hurt from
African Americans over the Ferguson incident, while many African Americans did
not understand the silence, which they interpreted as lack of empathy, from
their white friends and coworkers.
As a white person, I recognize that, like Rachel, my
whiteness protects me from the anxiety that comes from never really knowing for
sure if I’m being treated according to my actions or if my racial background
plays a part. My goal in writing The R
Word was to explore these issues through the medium of young adult fiction.
Through The R Word I examine how our
experiences guide our thinking in matters of race, and I hope that my book can
help us think more broadly and more critically about how race continues to
affect us all.
*Recent talk given at Spring City Library Local Author Fest
