"What is Truth?"

Last month the National Park Service removed an exhibit highlighting the lives of nine people enslaved by George Washington. The display, part of the President’s House site on Independence Mall, described the harsh realities of slavery and explored how Washington avoided abolition requirements by working the system. The exhibit panels were removed due to a March 2025 executive order, titled “Restoring Truth and Sanity to American History.” The details of the event and the ongoing court battle have been all over the news, and more information can be found here. 

What sticks in my craw almost as much as the action itself is the language of the order. Specifically, I just can’t get over the use of the words “truth” and “sanity” in this context. What, exactly, is the executive branch saying? What “truth” are they restoring? Are they claiming that slavery didn’t exist, or that George Washington didn’t own slaves? Both are matters of historical record; neither assertion can be considered truthful. Perhaps they are implying that slavery wasn’t all that bad. While I’ve heard that tenuous argument made about slavery as practiced in the New Testament, it’s a difficult argument to make regarding the chattel slavery practiced here in the U.S. Historians agree that enslaved people were dehumanized and abused physically, emotionally, and psychologically for centuries within our borders and that their abominable treatment was sanctioned and protected by the government and, in many cases, Christian churches. 

It’s more likely the executive branch is offended by the “interpretive” nature of the exhibit, titled, “The Dirty Business of Slavery.” If that’s the case, we must ask, what does removal of that interpretation imply? Removal of one interpretation is an imposition of a different interpretation by omission. If the executive order and subsequent action imply that slavery was NOT a dirty business, that is a form of denial far more insidious than outright rejection of facts. 

When we teach our kids to tell the truth, we mean them to tell the whole story, not the part of the story that makes them look good or keeps them out of trouble. When people give legal testimony, they must affirm they will tell “the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth” (we’ve all watched enough legal dramas to know that by heart). So, what form of “truth,” exactly, is meant to be restored by this executive order? 

Perhaps the authors of the order borrow their approach to truth from Pontius Pilate, who asked, “What is truth?” right before he sentenced Jesus to execution.* And while I have no doubt that some of them view themselves in biblical proportions, I’m not sure they meant to emulate that particular biblical character. 

I can think of a few reasons people have for avoiding or even denying the dark chapters of American history. Thirst for power, desire for dominance, need to control, shame, or even embarrassment might be some. But restoring truth? I don’t think so. 

That brings us to the second word of the day, “sanity.” In the style of Pilate, we may ask, “What is sanity?” Tempting as it may be to label the entire enterprise as insane, I can’t quite see it that way. If sanity equals rationality or reasoning, then this order can be seen as one part of a well-reasoned plan meant to delude people with false narratives. Seen in this light, the executive order that resulted in the removal of the slavery exhibit on Independence Mall is very, very sane. 

 *John 18:38

We Can’t Fix What We Refuse to Face with Dr. Marianne Modica

Book Banning at the Naval Academy

From my perspective, the news has not been good of late. The latest depressing tidbit is that, by order of the Defense Secretary, 381 books have been pulled from the shelves of the U.S. Naval Academy’s library. (Sidenote: I visited the Naval Academy last summer while vacationing in Annapolis. Awesome place.) The Naval Academy is an undergraduate college with a variety of majors (more on that later). But let’s be clear—it is a college. Now, I’m all for common sense and developmental appropriateness when it comes to kids and reading material. For example, when I was 12 years old, I got a hold of a copy of Rosemary’s Baby (remember that one?) that kept me awake at night for who knows how long, and I always wished someone had been interested enough in my well-being to monitor my reading and spare me from nighttime terrors. If it were possible to unread a book, that would have been it for me. But Naval Academy midshipmen (and btw, if gender-inclusive language was ever on the to-do list, now it’s definitely to-don’t) are not 12-year-olds. They are college students and the future military leaders of our country. After graduation, they are obligated to serve in the Navy or Marine Corps for at least five years. So, it appears that Naval Academy graduates are tough enough to become Navy SEALs, but not tough enough to read a variety of sources on important, albeit controversial, issues and make up their own minds about what they think. But perhaps a thinking military leadership is also currently on the to-don’t list. 

So, what books made this now infamous list? (I’d like to note that neither my academic text nor my novels on race/gender relations made the list—ya think maybe because they were never included in the library holdings to begin with? I’m tempted to send them copies of my books and suggest they place them in their catalog so that they can ban them.) You can check out the list here: banned books. The books range from popular to scholarly, and include a variety of genres, from young adult fiction, to religion, to sports, to history, to politics, to philosophy, to literary criticism, to psychology. Some are common reading in high schools, such as The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas and I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelous—both wonderful, important works. Others are well-known and respected academic texts, many of which I used in my graduate school research. Anything having to do with race relations, gender identity, sexual orientation, woman’s rights, and even the Holocaust is out (which shows the complete lack of thoughtfulness of this action, given that the current administration is pressuring universities to do more to combat antisemitism. Which begs the question: do they really care about antisemitism, or are they more interested in punishing protesters they don't agree with?). 

A few books on the history of the KKK and lynching are also included on the list, I guess because it’s not important we acknowledge that part of our history. Maybe it was just a big misunderstanding after all. Books about the First Amendment are on the banned list, which seems fitting, given that First Amendment rights don’t seem to matter anymore. Books about managing diversity in the military are also gone, even though the U.S. Navy is the most racially diverse of military branches, with 37% service members of color and over 20% women. 

Currently the Naval Academy offers over 25 majors, including English, History, and Political Science; honors programs are offered in those area of study, as well. My sympathies to the students trying to write an honors level thesis without the research they need to support their work. Their writing will surely suffer and, if my graduate professors were right and writing actually IS a form of thinking, the absence of scholarly sources will result in incomplete research which will result in shallow writing and ultimately simplistic thinking (which is what got us here in the first place). But maybe that’s the goal. 

One of the most well-known books pulled from the shelves in this sweeping ban is national best-seller White Fragility by Robin DiAngelo. The term "white fragility" refers to the defensive way that some white people respond to the topic of racism. For some, talking about racism causes feelings of guilt, shame, and anger and results in the backlash we’re seeing today. Interestingly (to me, at least), theories of racial identity development see these feelings as part of the developmental process for whites; feelings of guilt, shame, and anger can result when whites first begin to understand the devastation of racism and can be seen as natural and even productive because they show that the person is deeply grasping the pain and damage racism has caused. Acknowledging the horror of racism should be part of the growth process because, as James Baldwin famously said, “Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.” So, it’s normal to have some intense feelings when you first think deeply about these issues, but the goal is to move past them. Unfortunately, it’s possible to get stuck here and remain in the anger until it becomes toxic. 

Of course, the banned books were not only about racism, but I think the fragility factor applies to the conversation as a whole. How ironic that the folks behind the book banning are the ones who need to read the books the most. Instead, they’ve rejected the idea of growth and have opted to remain stuck in their fragile state of toxic anger. This would be bad enough on the individual level, but what is truly frightening is that they have the seemingly unchecked power to impose their toxicity on the rest of us. 

Let me end by saying that I admire the young people training to serve in our military. We’ve been taught from childhood that a strong military will ensure our continued freedom, a crucial American value. I’m just sad that academic freedom isn’t among the freedoms some of us think are worth defending.

WOKE WOKE WOKE WOKE WOKE

I remember when I first heard the term, “woke” applied to race relations. Several years ago, a good friend who is African American told me I was woke. She meant it as a compliment, and I took it as one.

“More people need to be woke,” I remember her saying.

“First they have to wake up,” I replied. “Maybe the saying should be, “wake up and stay woke.’” We both laughed.

Unfortunately, we're not laughing anymore, because through what I have to admit is a brilliant act of appropriation, that term has taken on a different meaning. When I hear or read it now, it’s often used as an insult toward people who hold a progressive view on issues involving racial and other types of diversity. And by that, I mean people who believe that racism still exists on individual and systemic levels and that we should talk about it because the way to make something better is to examine it in the light, not make believe it doesn’t exist. Someone once said that there are two problems that disappear if you ignore them long enough. Newsflash: racism isn’t one of them. (They’re snow and adolescence, if you’re wondering.)

Anyway, woke. The term is now often used with disdain to describe people who want to—I don’t know, what? Take down the American government (ironic in light of the events of January 6…)? Take away childhood innocence? Make life harder for white people (also ironic)? Teach our kids to hate our country?

Ridiculous, of course. None of these things is true, and as we teach our kids, saying something is true doesn’t make it true no matter how many times you say it.

I think it’s time to take back the word. What does it mean to be woke?

If WOKE means I understand that events don’t happen in a vacuum, then I’m woke.

If WOKE means I believe that the present is connected to the past, then I’m woke.

If WOKE means examining the past to understand the present, then I’m woke.

If WOKE means I don’t project my experiences on to others, then I’m woke.

If WOKE means I believe what people tell me about their experiences, then I’m woke.

If WOKE means being honest, no matter how painful, then I’m woke.

If WOKE means having the courage to talk about uncomfortable topics, then I’m woke.

If WOKE means respecting and valuing the ideas of people whose experience is different from mine, then I’m woke.

If WOKE means having empathy, then I’m woke.

If WOKE means wanting a fair and just society, then I’m woke.

If WOKE means examining past policies and practices that helped some and hurt others, then I’m woke.

If WOKE means giving extra help to folks who need it because of those past policies and practices, then I’m woke.

If WOKE means being aware of unearned factors in my background that have helped me succeed, then I’m woke.

And most of all, if WOKE means listening, if WOKE means caring, if WOKE means loving, then, please Lord, wake me up and keep me woke.

 

Revelation 3:2 - Wake up, and strengthen what remains and is about to die, for I have not found your works complete in the sight of my God.

What is Critical Race Theory (CRT) and Why are People Against It?

Critical Race Theory (CRT), a lens through which race relations in the U.S. may be viewed, has been around for decades, but is only now making it into mainstream news. As a researcher and teacher about race in education, I was tempted to hope this was a good thing. After all, the recent uproar regarding the teaching of race through the lens of CRT in K-12 schools at least shows that people are thinking about racism. Since, as James Baldwin once said, “Not everything that is faced can be changed; but nothing can be changed until it is faced,” the outcry against CRT in racism education does show that people are grappling with an especially uncomfortable topic. Unfortunately, recent actions in some places restricting how racism is taught seek to shut down, rather than encourage, honest conversations from multiple perspectives about the effects of racism in our current, everyday lives.

I’m thinking, of course, about the recent ruling by the Florida Department of Education banning the precepts of CRT in the schools. The governor of the state has declared that not only is the lens of CRT unnecessary, it is actually damaging in that it teaches kids to hate each other and to hate our country.* 

Wow. That’s pretty strong stuff, and if it were true, I, too, would be concerned. But, of course, it isn’t true. The purpose of teaching about racism isn’t to stir up hate, but to foster understanding of the experiences of people of color, the systems that perpetuate racial inequity, and the responsibility we all have to work toward racial healing that can only come about when we face the past and try to do better in the future. 

So what is CRT? As I tell my students, it’s okay to be against something, but first you have to know what that something is before you can be sure you’re against it. Since I used CRT as the organizing framework of Race Among Friends, my book based on research with high school students who explored race as part of their literature curriculum, I’ll draw from that text in my description of CRT. Originating in legal scholarship, CRT examines the intersection of race and power and, over the last several decades, has become a tool to analyze and critique inequity in general and, particularly, in education. Here are the key concepts of CRT that I used in my analysis of what went on among the high school students I studied: 

• While CRT recognizes that factors like gender and social class are also important in explaining inequity, it views racism as a contemporary and persistent problem.
• Critical race theorists believe that the experience of racism on one level or another is typical for people of color. Hence, although it would be great if we could be “colorblind,” that doesn’t work because if we can’t admit that race still affects people’s lives, we can’t do anything to correct or improve that state of being. Therefore, being colorblind only benefits the group with the vested interest (whether consciously or unconsciously) in maintaining the status quo.
• CRT stresses that racism is not only about individual prejudice (although that certainly still exists), but insists we look at the past and present systems that keep us from racial equity. These systems can work on the large scale or in more contained environments. For example, I found that the system called “tracking” (separating students based on supposed academic ability) within the individual school I studied stopped African American students from reading certain literature that would have benefited them. Moreover, the white students at the school were also affected by this practice because they were kept from hearing the voices of their classmates of color on the very issue that affected them most.  Although my specific area of study was race in education, CRT looks at other systems as well, such as housing, health, criminal justice, and voting rights. It requires that we analyze policies and practices in these areas in terms of their effects on people of color.
• Because racial inequity still exists, societal transformation toward racial equity is the goal of analysis through CRT.
• Lastly, critical race theorists note the importance of hearing the voices of people from groups targeted by racism (in its past and present forms). This can’t happen until whites become aware of how race continues to function in our society and commit to seek real change. Hence, the term, “woke,” has become a sometimes maligned buzzword describing this awareness. 

So what’s all the hoopla about? Why are some people so upset over CRT? Basic arguments against the use of CRT in schools say that talking about race makes things worse because it stirs up divisions among students and that the goal of CRT is not, as I stated above, to move us toward racial equity, but to make white students feel guilty (hence, CRT is racist against whites) and to make all students hate our country (as someone who has studied race in education for a number of years, that seemed like a new one to me until I remembered the “love it or leave it” backlash against the anti-war protests of decades ago). Another, perhaps more insidious argument says that CRT damages students of color because it relegates them to the category of “oppressed” and therefore, I guess, limits them from achieving their full potential. So, according to this argument, CRT is racist against students of color, as well. 

Like CRT itself, the sentiments behind these arguments are not new, and can be understood through the lens of another theory (perhaps the next to be banned), called Racial Identity Theory. Racial Identity Theories (there are actually more than one) look at how identifying with membership in one or more racial groups influences people’s identity—how they think of themselves as evidenced by beliefs, feelings, behaviors, etc. I won’t go into the detail of these theories because it would take too long, but I will say that according to white racial identity development theory, it is not unusual for whites to experience feelings of anger or guilt when faced with the idea that racism still exists and that whites, whether they know it or not, benefit from it. (This is where the idea of “white privilege” – yet another term to be banned— comes from. White privilege doesn’t mean that all whites are racist, or that all whites are rich, or that whites haven’t worked hard to earn their money or societal positions. It does mean that as members of the dominant culture we (whites) benefit from the systems that keep people of color from many societal advantages. And, it's important to remember that not all members of the dominant culture are equally privileged because other factors like gender, social class, religion, etc., are important, too). 

As I was saying, the feelings of anger currently aimed at CRT are not new. Many of the white students I worked with during my research felt as if they were being blamed for racism, although that was not our intent (as we explicitly stated many times). So, although I’m saddened, I can’t say I’m totally surprised at the current furor in some circles over CRT. The anger is not new, but has merely found a new channel of expression. It’s easier to be mad at a theory such as CRT than to be angry at the actual inequity it seeks to expose, especially if that inequity is not aimed at my particular group. As a white person, it’s painful to admit that something as ugly as racism still exists and, what’s worse, that I might benefit from it. That acknowledgment may require a collapse and restructuring of things I believed to be true. So, when first faced with these ideas, it’s not hard to understand why whites might react negatively. However, according to Racial Identity Theory, if we look at these feelings of guilt, blame, and anger as part of the developmental process of figuring out our racial identity, we can hope that whites will be able to grow past these feelings and eventually come to understand their important role as allies to people of color. 

So, while the anger isn't new, what is especially tragic is the focus of that anger toward the making of school policy that forbids teachers from engaging in developmentally appropriate and open conversations about race among K-12 students. At the proper age and developmental level, our students deserve to grapple with these tough issues. Does everyone have to agree on everything? No, but all students should be given the opportunity to express their points of view, based on their experiences, and to come to understand the points of view of their classmates and peers.  All students deserve to hear about how race affects the lives of those around them. This can’t happen if we shut down conversations about present racial inequity, no matter how uncomfortable or angry those conversations make us feel. If parents believe their children are being "indoctrinated" by a particular perspective that they disagree with, a more productive response would be to insist on a curriculum that encourages healthy, respectful discussion and debate about the topic from multiple standpoints. This would serve the dual purpose of exposing students to multiple perspectives and of modeling civil discourse among concerned citizens, something severely lacking in public dialog of late. Isn't that one of the goals of education?

*More info about Florida ruling on CRT

How could this happen? In-group bias, that's how.

By now I'm sure you're saturated with social media posts, news broadcasts, and videos depicting and analyzing the chaos at the Capitol as rioters overtook police and stormed the Capitol building last Wednesday, January 6, 2021. I'm also sure that you, like me, are horrified. As you watched the unfolding images, maybe, also like me, you couldn't help but compare the police response that day to that of the Black Lives Matter protests (I'm speaking about the many peaceful protests here, not the looting and burning that followed). I'm sure you've seen the comparison images, so no need to repeat them here. 

"How could this happen?" many of us are asking. On one level, we know that the seeds were sown over the course of many months as false information about the election results were disseminated by a variety of sources. Why do I say the information was false? Because there was no credible evidence given in any of the 60 lawsuits that followed the election contesting its results. But my goal here is not to go over that again. As someone who studies race relations, I'm interested in something more immediate: what is at the root of the very different police responses to the Capitol protest-turned-riot and the BLM protests over the summer? 

It's pretty obvious that the Capitol Police were under-prepared last Wednesday, even though the plans of some groups and individuals toward insurrection were no secret--they were well-publicized on social media. These people thought their actions so justified they didn't even try to conceal their identities, as evidenced by the many videos and photos they posted of themselves and others breaking the law. The question is, why were the police so woefully under-prepared? According to Rep. Tim Ryan (D-Ohio), who oversees the House committee in charge of the Capitol Police, that group expected a peaceful protest, a protest that would be "pretty vanilla"* (interesting use of terminology, but hold that thought for a moment). So sure were they that violence would not be an issue that the leadership of the Capitol Police twice turned down offers of help from the Pentagon days before the event.** Maybe hindsight is 2020 (or 2021), but how could they be so wrong? Why would they ignore ample warnings to the contrary? 

In-group bias, that's why. According to the American Psychological Association, in-group bias is "the tendency to favor one’s own group, its members, its characteristics, and its products, particularly in reference to other groups."*** In-group bias may be a "natural" tendency (or it may seem natural because we've grown up in a racist and racially divided society), but when we allow it to go unchecked, we end up buying into stereotypes and acting on implicit beliefs about the motivations and actions of those in the "outgroup." People from any background can experience or act on in-group bias, but when that group is in authority and has power...well, we saw the result last week. 

Am I saying the Capitol Police are outwardly racist? Of course not. They are public servants (many of them people of color) putting their lives on the line, trying to do their jobs, and remember that these concepts should be applied group-wide and not individually. I'm saying that those in leadership, those who rejected the offer of help, were displaying in-group bias when they thought this "vanilla" protest would remain nonviolent. If the color symbolism in the adjective "vanilla" doesn't jump out at you, well, I don't know what to say, but I'll try. Vanilla = white = perceived peaceful by other whites = in-group-bias. No one in leadership imagined that a group of government-supporting (our current President being the head of our government) white people would forcibly break into the Capitol with weapons and zip-ties (ready to take hostages) and wreak the havoc that resulted in five deaths (one being Brian D. Sicknick, Capitol Police officer). We white people just don't do things like that, right? That's what in-group bias would have us believe. 

If you need an in-the-moment example, take a look at this video clip of the riot. You may not like the news outlet or the commentator or his analysis, but that's not the point. Watch what happens in the clip between 5:14 and 6:19. MSNBC video As the rioters try to break through glass doors, three white male officers bar their way. They are completely outnumbered and obviously in danger. One of the male protestors (presumably white) can be heard pleading with them to move out of the way. "Bro," he begs, "I've seen people out there get hurt. I don't want to see you get hurt...we will make a path [for their safe escape, I guess]...I want you to go home." The three officers finally move out of the way (which is another issue), the rioters begin to break through the glass, and suddenly a gun appears on the other side of the doorway. A few seconds later a shot is fired--it's unclear what happens after that. 

But there you have it. "Bro." In the middle of a violent break-in intended as a government takeover, the rioters had the presence of mind to protect their "bros"-- members of their own racial group. There's a sense of camaraderie in the rioter's plea that can't be missed. Bro, go home. We don't want you to get hurt. 

The takeover of the Capitol last Wednesday should teach us much on many levels about the danger of false information and the responsibility of our leaders to tell the truth. But we ignore the role that race played in how the events unfolded at our own peril. 

 *https://www.politifact.com/article/2021/jan/08/black-lives-matter-protests-and-capitol-assault-co/

 **https://apnews.com/article/capitol-police-reject-federal-help-9c39a4ddef0ab60a48828a07e4d03380

 ***https://dictionary.apa.org/ingroup-bias

White People, What Can We Do?

So, here we are again. America, are we ever going to get this right? I have to admit I've wondered if our country can or will ever recover from the sin of racism: a sin so evil, so brutal, so ugly, and so etched into the fiber of our society since before its inception that, for some, it is all but invisible.  However, in the many, many posts I've read over the last several weeks, I do believe I'm beginning to see a glimmer of hope, a subtle shift in sensibilities. For the very first time I'm seeing the question from white people, "What can we do?"

It's an important question, not for the anticipated content of its response alone, but for the sense of surrender it signals. Okay, I get it, the questions implies. Racism is real. Black lives matter can no longer be dismissed or ignored. Black lives matter--there, I said it. Okay? Now, what can I do?

There are many things we can do--maybe you've seen the lists floating around cyberspace. They usually begin with listening, something that I, personally, am not always good at, but yes, first and foremost we need to listen to the perspectives of people of color. We need to grow past the immature, egocentric thinking that says, what I do or do not experience is what everyone else does or does not experience. So, of course, we need to listen and learn from the experiences of others. But there's something else we need to do.

We also need to talk -- TO EACH OTHER -- about race. We should not expect people of color to bear the burden of our education. It is painful and not their responsibility. Racism is a white problem at its core. White people started it and white people need to end it. One way we can do that is to educate ourselves and each other about how the policies and practices born from our racist history continue to marginalize and disenfranchise people of color today. The good news is that education has never been easier or more convenient: TED Talks, movies, blogs, articles, books, etc. are only a click away.

So white people, let's talk.

White People, Don't Miss the Point

Social media burns with the streets
Over the image of George Floyd
Choking under the knee of oppression.
Sadness, fury, disgust,
Tears, empathy, prayers,
A thesaurus of emotion
Washes through social media like a flood-bloated river
Bloated with concern.

But white people,
We need to be careful.
Be careful not to miss the point.
From the depths of the swollen waters
A message floats to the top: not all cops are bad.
People compelled to point out
Remember, not all cops are bad.
It's a very important point--
Bears repeating and so we repeat it:
Remember, not all cops are bad.

Yes, true, good point.
Of course, not all cops are bad.
Police, our first responders
Enter danger like I enter the grocery store
Run toward while we run away
Immersed in crisis every day--
A child shot
A burning house
A drunken brawl
A food distribution
A car wreck
A Covid struck community.
It's a hard, hard job,
And we appreciate their service.
Of course, not all cops are bad.

But white people, don't miss the point.
Don't let the point be overshadowed
By the tent of defensive posturing
By a point that is not the point
By a point that helps us miss the point.
Who's good, who's bad, how many
What percent
White people, that's not the point.

The casual knee that stopped the breath
The pleas, heartbreakingly polite
Please. He said please.
He'd been taught well
By the mother he called at the end.

That knee wasn't just a knee.
That knee was attached to a culture
A system
Just another day on the job
Ho-hum.
That knee was attached to a failure of leadership
That knee was attached to a tolerance of abuse
That knee was attached to a fear of brown bodies.
If George Floyd had been a dog
The Humane Society would have been called.

White people, don't miss the point.
We don't need to defend the good cops
This isn't about them.
This isn't about how many good cops
How many bad cops.
This is about how many times.
How many times before a cultural shift
Roots out oppressive knees
Before they put on the uniform
Before they hit the streets
How many brown bodies have to die?
White people, don't miss the point.

Still the Elephant in the Room

The other day a friend (it's always fun when you can count former students as friends) posted about a troubling interaction he had with a police officer after he rolled through a stop sign. My friend admitted his fault -- he was clearly guilty of sloppy driving. Here's the exchange, used with permission:

Officer: Do you know what you did wrong?
Me: I rolled through the stop sign, sir.
Officer: Don’t lie to me—if you lie to me again I’ll arrest you right now! You ran the stop sign...you took your foot off the gas and then put it back on the gas. Do you work here?
Me: Yes, Sir.
Officer: Does your company know you drive through stop signs?
Me: No, sir.
Officer: Do you think they should know you drive through stop signs?
Me: Yes, sir.
Officer: If you do it again, I’ll tow your vehicle and arrest you on the spot!

I think we can all agree that this officer was out of line. My friend admitted guilt immediately and responded politely and respectfully. There was certainly no need for this over-the-top verbal display of authority. As you might expect, my friend received many responses to his post that ranged from sympathetic to outraged. What interests me most though, is that the vast majority of responses ignored the elephant in the room: the fact that my friend is brown-skinned and the cop was white. 

Interesting, yes, but not really surprising; race is still the elephant in the room that most of us don't want to acknowledge. 

Maybe you're thinking, there's no proof that race was the issue here. Maybe age or gender are more relevant in this situation. Maybe that cop would have been just as rude to a young, white guy. I have to admit that's a possibility. Or, maybe the cop was just having a bad day. Short of the use of racial epithets, there is no way to know if race plays a part in any interpersonal interactions. But the "maybes" here are the point. If you are part of a population that has faced discrimination historically, you can never really know for sure if your race (or some other cultural or physical characteristic) is influencing the interaction. I found this phenomenon to be real during research for my academic text, Race Among Friends, and I tried to explore it more fully through the characters in my novel, The R Word.

Somewhere in this recounting, there's a so what. As a white person (and, therefore, a member of the dominant culture), I can't know what it's like to live in the world of maybe. If I'm verbally harassed by a white cop (unlikely because of my gender and age), I know it's not because I'm white. If I'm critiqued by my white employer, I know race has nothing to do with it. If I'm given the worst seat at a restaurant, if I'm followed around a store, if I'm asked for ID at the bank, no matter who's right and who's wrong, the room is free of elephants.

Although my friend didn't mention race initially, in a later post he admitted that he did have race in the back of his mind, and because of that, he feared the situation would escalate. Thank God, it didn't. There isn't much I can do to help my friend, but I can understand and empathize. I can try my best not to let my own internalized prejudices rule the day during my own interpersonal interactions with people who are different from me. It may not be much, but it's something, and something is better than nothing.

Words You Can't Say on Facebook

Recently, a Facebook friend had the unpleasant experience of having a post censored by the FB powers that be. She'd used a certain term to describe someone caught behaving badly in a video. The term pointed out the person's white heritage paired with a synonym for that stuff you throw away. For the Charades lovers out there -- two words, rhymes with "light hash" and "slight rash." (I'm making myself stop now. Sorry.) Anyway, you all know the term, and I won't repeat it here because, well, I don't want to risk the same censorship and deprive all three of you from reading this post. 😼

The point here is not to debate whether Facebook should or shouldn't censor posts or what words or ideas should be censored. While that is a worthy topic, it's really not my thing. As a person who thinks and writes and teaches about race, what caught my attention was the term itself. Of course, I've heard it many times, but I never stopped to think about what, exactly, makes it objectionable in racial terms. Of course the term is derogatory, but does it qualify as a racial slur, or is this just another example of an over-sensitivity about race? After all, the person in the video was white, and as I've pointed out before, simply noticing someone's race or using one's racial background as an identifier does not make one racist. So if I were to say, "the white guy in the picture is my cousin, Fred," I would not consider my comment to be racist in any way, shape, or form.

In previous writings I've also explored the phenomenon of insider/outsider status in using words that are widely considered to be racial slurs. As brilliantly depicted in the "Blackish" episode, "The Word," some people believe that what might be okay when said by an insider is definitely not okay from a person outside the group. (Note: watch the episode and you'll see that not everyone within the group agrees.) Since the person using the term banned on Facebook was of the same racial background as the person in the video (both white), does the insider rule apply here?

Maybe you think it should. Or maybe you're thinking, finally, someone sticking up for white people, even if they are light hash. But here's the problem -- while certainly meant as an insult, the term itself does not disparage white people in general. In fact, it does the opposite, because really, what is the purpose of pointing out race as part of the insult? Prefacing the disparagement with the person's race is implying that white people are supposed to be better. It's a way of saying, "look at that white person, acting beneath his or her noble race." The term itself is an example of whiteness serving as the invisible "norm" against which all other races are judged. So, when you think about it, a term meant to disparage a white person behaving badly also disparages everyone who isn't white in its assumption that whites are inherently meant to behave better. Of course, all this is subliminal, as are most of the really damaging racist ideas we hold.

Words matter. Words can hold meanings on levels deeper than we may realize.

"Reverse Racism" -- Getting Past Fifth Grade

In years past, when one of my kids (who shall remain nameless) would be reminded not to repeat a small or large infraction, s/he would respond in the same way. "Mom, I haven't done that since fifth grade!"

"Don't be late for school."
"I haven't been late since fifth grade."
"Be careful not to lose that library book."
"Mom, that was in fifth grade."
"Answer your cell phone when I call."
"I always do, ever since fifth grade."
Etc.

I was forced to conclude that either my memory was implacably fixated on one particular school year in this person's life or fifth grade was a very bad year.

More likely, though, my child's response reflected the desire to be seen in the here and now only and not through the lens of our history together. Unfortunately, life doesn't work that way. History matters. Whether in the family, the classroom (you teachers know - that kid who calls out once, you ignore. But that kid who interrupts you at every turn, you can't ignore), or in society at large, history matters. People don't behave in a vacuum. Newton's Third Law of Motion tell us that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction (I learned that in fifth grade). And while it's easy to accept that fact when talking about physical objects, sometimes it's not so easy when thinking about the events that have shaped the beliefs, policy, practices, and general racial atmosphere of our country. For a lot of us, when it comes to race we want to remember the bad stuff as ancient history. We want to put racism in a pre-civil rights movement box and keep it there as securely as my child kept memories of wrong-doing in the secure vault known as the fifth grade.

It's this desire that leads to a certain argument, or discourse, usually heard among whites, called the "reverse racism discourse." I've written about it before, in this and other spaces. The discourse has been documented often in critical race scholarship, but you don't have to read the texts to know what I'm talking about. I'm sure you've heard the argument, or maybe even used it yourself. It goes like this -- a better qualified white person didn't get some kind of benefit (job, scholarship, whatever) because a less qualified African American, Hispanic, etc. got it instead. Therefore, whites are now the endangered race because their skin color is standing in the way of opportunity. It's important to note that usually a presumption is being made here. All the facts of the particular situation are not usually known, but the speaker presumes that the person who got the position was under-qualified. But more importantly, the person arguing the reverse racism discourse is speaking from the vacuum of fifth grade, so to speak. If policies are in place to help traditionally marginalized people to advance, they are there for a reason -- to equal the playing field in a historically white dominated society. When it comes to race, is the playing field equal yet? Not by any sociological indicator -- education, employment, housing, wealth, income, health, incarceration, etc. (BTW, the argument can be extended to gender -- not long ago a good friend of mine bemoaned the fate of men because of the #MeToo movement. She was genuinely worried that men would suffer and somehow become second class citizens because of the movement. I assured her that I think they'll be okay.)

Recently I was surprised to read the reverse racism discourse from a pretty well-known author in the Scifi-Fantasy world. (I'm not sure why I was surprised. I shouldn't have been. I've been doing this long enough to know that racial tensions are prevalent in every aspect of our society.) He complained about discrimination in the writing/publishing world. Now, there's ample evidence that this area has been dominated by whites since its inception. Speculative fiction, in particular, has long been a white man's domain, with a few notable exceptions. But over the last several years people have worked hard to raise awareness and we're starting to see some change. We know that change always brings backlash, and the reverse racism discourse is part of that backlash.  The writer was complaining that white men aren't being considered equally in certain genres. (Side note -- was he complaining 20 years ago when women's work wasn't being considered? Doubtful that he even noticed.)

Maybe this author is right, and the pendulum of opportunity has swung too far in the other direction.  I'm sure he believes what he's saying is true, although I've included a link below that says otherwise.* But even if his claims are true, the problem with his argument is that it ignores the history of discrimination that has made the shift in focus necessary. Hopefully, a day will come when thinking about race and gender in publishing or other areas of opportunity won't be necessary, because the playing field will be equal. Education, training, and opportunity for advancement will be equitable. But to paraphrase one of my favorite male fantasy heroes, that day may come...but it is not this day. This day, we fight. We fight to break free of fifth grade thinking. We fight to recall our history in its completeness, good and bad. We fight to remember the mistakes of the past so we can create a better future.



*Info on diversity in science fiction

Suffer the Children: Sunday Morning Sermon

As I write this, it's Sunday morning, time for church. Time to sing with eyes opened or closed, holding a hymnal or reading from a screen, accompanied by an organ or a full out rock band. In whatever style, across our country millions of Americans are attending church services.

My wish for this Sunday morning is that every pastor, minister, or preacher would speak the same words and read the same verses from the scriptures on which they've based their lives.

"Let the children come to me and do not stop them, because the Kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." Mark 19:14.

"'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength...Love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no commandment greater than these.” Mark 12:30-31

"Defend the cause of the weak and fatherless; maintain the rights of the poor and oppressed. Rescue the weak and needy; deliver them from the hand of the wicked." Ps. 82:3-4.

"Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares." Heb. 13: 1-2.

I could continue, but I trust you get the point. The scriptures are filled with admonitions toward love, care, and empathy, the opposite of the behavior the United States is showing toward asylum seekers at our southern border. Now, I'm not so naive to think that open borders are possible. I understand that, for various reasons, borders must be maintained and protected, and my purpose today is not to argue or recommend specific immigration policy of a larger scope. But, as a person of faith who values the scripture, as a mother, and as a human being, it seems more than obvious that separating children from their parents as a deterrent and perhaps punishment is cruel, ungodly, and unscriptural. And to use the Bible as a justification for this practice is reprehensible. This has nothing to do with following the Bible. This is about something else. 

I've read some pretty heartless reasoning on this topic lately, and at its core is the stripping of the humanity of those in question. These aren't refugees or asylum seekers, they are "criminals" who have given up the rights to their children by their criminal behavior. This is dangerous reasoning with a long history. Throughout the ages, the only way humans have been able to treat other humans so cruelly is to make them less than human. These are not parents seeking safety for their children. They are criminals who don't deserve our empathy. Of course, it becomes much easier to treat people badly if you believe "They are not our friend...they're bringing drugs. They're bringing crime. They're rapists." Oh yeah, some of them might be good people, but good people don't commit crimes, and since these people engaged in a criminal act when they entered the country illegally, they are criminals. And so the circular reasoning continues.

It's true, the Bible does say we should obey the law. Christians in the early church were instructed to mind their own business and live quiet and productive lives (I Thess 4:11), but this instruction came after praise for being "taught by God to love one another" (v. 9). The Old and New Testaments also give many accounts of people who broke human law (secular and religious) in order to follow God's law. Jesus was among these people. And let's remember that there was only one group of people that Jesus criticized harshly -- the Pharisees, and it was because, as he pointed out, "they don't practice what they teach" (Matt. 23:3). I'm sure you can see some parallels here. 

So, this Sunday morning I wish that all believers in Jesus (along with folks of other faiths) would be encouraged to practice what we teach and to invite our government officials to do the same. We are in a position to love our neighbors, to defend the weak, to show hospitality to strangers, and to care for the children, owners of the Kingdom of heaven.

Worlds Collide but Never Touch

A few years ago I gave a talk at several locations entitled, "Living in More than One World." The focus of that talk was race relations, and in it I described the need to understand and empathize with those whose experience as racialized beings differs from our own. Today I'm going to wonder from the topic of race to explore another way that I, personally, navigate two very different worlds: worlds on opposite ends of the political spectrum.

My first world of church going and teaching is a conservative one. I'll call it Conservo World. Many of the inhabitants of Conservo World hold very traditional beliefs about a wide variety of subjects ranging from race relations to abortion to sexual orientation to gender identity and lots of other topics, and although most hold no animosity toward individuals, they sincerely believe they must do their part to make the world a better place (or at least keep it from becoming a worse place). In that world I have many wonderful friends who are kind, caring, decent people.

World number two is mostly comprised of graduate school friends and academic colleagues outside of religious institutions, who, for the most part, land to the left of liberal on the political front -- it's  Libero World, indeed. The folks of Libero World (some religiously oriented, but most not) see themselves as progressives and so believe they must do their part to bring about needed change and make the world a better place (or at least keep it from becoming a worse place). They often see themselves as outside of herteronormativity either by practice or belief.  Again, in that world I have many wonderful friends who are kind, caring, decent people. I've been navigating these two worlds somewhat successfully for a very long time.

Something happened the other day, though, that made my usual smooth navigational system blink. I was at an academic conference populated by Libero World folk and the session leader said something that caught my attention. She mentioned, almost in passing, that fantasy and science fiction are mostly liberal spaces -- in others words, produced and consumed by the folks of Libero World. As a tried and true fantansy/scifi nerd, you can bet I shook off the descending conference ennui and sat up straight at that. Many images flooded my mind, including:

• standing in line for an hour at the premiere of every Lord of The Rings movie, next to Conservo World friends
• watching the youth group leader of our conservative church chase my sons across the church lawn, all of them waving lightsabers around
• listening to the rants of conservative friends of all ages when the latest iteration of Star Wars, Harry Potter, the X-Men, etc., didn't come up to their expectations
• giving in to my students' begging to show the latest Marvel trailer on the big screen in our classroom

I could say lots more, but mostly I thought of an organization I joined about a year ago called Realm Makers, populated by Christian writers of speculative fiction. I've been to their conference where hundreds of Conservo World folks dress up quite creatively to attend a banquet as Wolverine, Steam Punk characters, Harry Potter -- you name it. They have a very active Facebook group through which they dissect all kinds of scifi fantasy minutia, along with supporting each others' writing efforts. These are hardcore fans, folks, and I bet they'd be quite surprised to hear that their passion resides in mostly a "liberal space." 

What would make this presenter see fantasy and science fiction as a liberal domain? She was kind, professional, brilliant and well educated, but she knew nothing (kind of like Jon Snow) about evangelical pop culture tastes. My guess is that she sees conservative Christians very narrowly, probably buttoned up in straight suits and long skirts and knocking at people's doors with Bibles under their arms.

When the conference was over I went back to the classroom and my content that morning dealt with gender identity. We talked about gender typicality and gender constancy. As I defined these terms, most of my students looked at me blankly. Sadly, a few smirked uncomfortably. But when I described the risk kids who fall outside of traditional gender norms face at school, they became sympathetic and gladly agreed that their role as teachers will be to protect all the children in their classes. Their ethic of care, the same ethic of care I heard over and over at the Libero World conference, was obvious.

What's my point? We have more in common than we think. We may disagree on many issues, and sometimes our beliefs are so polar opposite it's hard to see any common ground. In the media and sometimes on the streets these worlds collide. But if we gave up our assumptions, just for a minute, and took the time to find out a little more about the reality of our lives, if we took the time to touch instead of banging against each other in anger, we might be surprised at how much we are alike.

As for me, I'll keep traveling back and forth between these two worlds, going left to right, depending on the issue. Mostly I land just enough in the middle to make both sides mad at me. So if you felt yourself bristling at this essay, that's fine. I'm right where I'm supposed to be.

Morgan Freeman "Solves Race Issue"

I've been thinking a lot about Morgan Freeman lately, not because he's one of my favorite actors (he is), but because his name has come up on a few occasions as I discussed the issue of racism with a group of people. A few times now someone in the group brought to my attention that Morgan (is it okay if I call him that? I feel like I've known him forever) commented in an interview that he's against the celebration of Black History Month, and that the way to solve America's race problem is to ignore it. Here the interview clip if you're interested: Morgan Freeman Interview.

Now I know that Morgan Freeman cares deeply about race relations in America. The film, "Prom Night in Mississippi" leaves no doubt that Morgan is aware of and concerned about racial tension in America. The documentary shows what happens in the actor's home town, Charleston, Mississippi, when he offers to pay for the high school prom if students, parents, and school officials will allow the event to be racially integrated. Yes, that's right. In 2008, Charleston held it's first racially integrated prom and Morgan Freeman paid for it. It's a fascinating story and I recommend viewing the film.

So why would a person who is obviously concerned about the persistence of racism within the fabric of American culture make such a statement about Black History Month, and why would he propose ignoring race as a way to move past racism? While it's not my job to explain other people's ideas (actually it kind of is, because I'm a teacher, but you know what I mean) it seems obvious to me that Morgan is not advocating for a colorblind approach as it has existed in the U.S. for decades. White people have been ignoring race for a long time now, with unfortunate results for people of color. I believe the actor's point is that Black history is part of American history and should be fully integrated into school curriculum, not pulled out once a year as a tokenistic celebration that most people (read: white people) ignore. When that happens, perhaps it will signal that we CAN stop talking about race the way Morgan suggests. Personally, I hope and pray for the day when all individuals are granted equal access in education, employment, housing, and are treated equally in our criminal justice system. But that day has not yet arrived.

But what I find most interesting is not what Morgan Freeman said about race. Whether I agree or disagree, he's only one person and he's entitled to his opinion. What fascinates me is not the what, but the why -- why do white people quote this one African American voice during discussions of racism, while ignoring the multitude of other statements, essays, books, articles, films, etc., that relate a different point of view? (BTW, a few years ago white people were quoting Bill Cosby in much the same way.) Why do they embrace one person's advice while ignoring the voices of so many others? What do they have to gain?

Derrick Bell, a famous critical race scholar, coined the term "interest convergence" for the phenomena we're witnessing here. Bell said that white people will support equal rights only when it suits their own interests. So, as a white person I can happily ignore any opinions about racism that don't support my view of myself as a non-racist person, but jump on those voices that I agree with, that make me feel better about myself. After all, if a prominent African American actor like Morgan Freeman says I should ignore race, who am I to argue? I can use Morgan's statements, even if he doesn't exactly mean what I want him to mean, to prop up my own distaste of facing racism on individual and institutional levels. And I can feel good about doing so, all the time allowing my own motivations to remain unexamined.

Morgan Freeman

Writing While White

One doesn’t have to look far to find evidence that racism is alive and well in the U.S., where schools and the population in general are becoming increasingly diverse. Equally apparent is that some folks just aren’t having it. When, recently, white nationalists, neo-Confederates, and members of the Ku Klux Klan took to the streets of Charlottesville with their message, “white lives matter,” I have to say I was shocked but not surprised. I felt a visceral sense of shock and disgust at the news photo of torch-carrying whites, gathered en masse, shouting their message of exclusion. But I was not surprised at the message itself, because while the current political climate may have emboldened these individuals, their argument is nothing new. I’ve heard the reverse-racism discourse, the argument that whites are the new victims of racism and somehow need protection, many times from white friends, family, and students – people who would never take up a torch and march in defense of their perceived white supremacy. In fact, when I bring up the topic of racism in my classes I’m more surprised if students (usually white but not always) don’t launch into the reverse-racism discourse in the form of anti-affirmative action arguments than if they do. Most of these students have heard these arguments all their lives and have come to internalize the idea that if a person of color (excluding Asians – there’s a whole separate discourse for that) has advanced to an important or prominent position, he or she probably got there at the expense of a white person who worked harder and was more qualified.

In my ethnography of high school students called Race Among Friends,[i] I found that the reverse-racism discourse was prominent during class discussions of multicultural literature. Even among students who were deeply invested in their cross-racial friendships at this small, racially diverse school, the idea that racism is over and that African Americans use the “race card” to gain unfair advantage persisted.  When I started to think more deeply about the fiction these students had read in previous grades, the “classics” of the multicultural literature “canon,” it wasn’t hard to see, at least partly, why these attitudes endure. Many students are still reading the texts on race that you and I read when we were in school: The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn,[ii] by Mark Twain, and To Kill a Mockingbird,[iii] by Harper Lee. Both of these works still form the foundation of the multicultural canon in many school districts. Both were written by whites, and both depict the internalized racist attitudes that I (as a writer and as a person) and many whites struggle to recognize and overcome.

Much has been written about the racial language and images of Huck and Mockingbird, and I won’t take the time for an in depth analysis here, other than to say that both represent a complicated mix of brilliantly written narrative and hidden racialized meanings played out by the stories’ characters. For example, while some teachers and school districts still struggle over Twain’s use of racial epithets, Jane Smiley[iv] and Toni Morrison[v] point out that it was Twain’s depiction of Jim, the full-grown African American slave companion of Tom and Huck, as a child-like pawn in the hands of two white adolescents, with no voice and no say in his own future, that is truly problematic. Likewise, in the case of the much loved novel (and movie) To Kill a Mockingbird, the very title suggests an unexamined racism far more subtle than whether or not the characters use “the N word” (as my students say) in the story.  The title comes from Atticus’ admonition to his son, “Shoot all the bluejays you want…but remember, it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird” (Lee 90). Miss Maudie, a neighbor, clarifies: “Mockingbirds don’t do one thing but make music for us to enjoy. They don’t eat up people’s gardens, don’t nest in corncribs, they don’t do one thing but sing their hearts out for us. That’s why it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird” (90). So, who are the mockingbirds in the story? Lee creates a cast of “respectable Negros” who, like the proverbial mockingbird, know their place and don’t bother anyone. I had to smile a little last year at the distress of some readers over the depiction of Atticus in the Mockingbird sequel, Go Set a Watchman.[vi] How could this book depict the beloved Atticus, pillar of racial justice, as racist? Unfortunately, Atticus’ passively racist proclivities were always there; perhaps we weren’t looking carefully enough to spot them. While it's true that he did his best to defend Tom Robinson in court (putting himself and his children at risk), Atticus never completely disassociated himself from the racism of his time. He told his daughter that racists "are still our friends" (76) and are "entitled to full respect for their opinions" (105). He made light of the role of the Ku Klux Klan (147) and excused the head of a would-be lynch mob as "a good man" who "just has his blind spots along with the rest of us" (157).

My point is that even when white fiction writers are attempting to be anti-racist, it can be difficult for us to fully understand how deep and hidden our attitudes about race are, and we may inadvertently perpetuate racial stereotypes through our work. Lately I’ve been reading a young adult fantasy novel. I’m about 100 pages in, and so far there is one dark skinned character, a man, in the story. He’s described as dark, muscular, and altogether gorgeous; his sensual masculinity jumps off the page and, of course, the white female protagonist is immediately attracted to him. Okay, I know there needs to be some kind of romantic attraction to satisfy readers, but the way this character fulfils the trope of the powerful black male who protects and dominates the white woman is so obvious that it’s startling. Am I saying the author is racist? No more than I am, because I’m guilty, too. A few years ago I published a young adult novel[vii] that explores the awakening of a white teen who comes to understand racism as she forms new relationships with teens of color. I tried my best to vary my characters in appearance and personality and to make them rich and complex. At the beginning of the story, Rachel, my protagonist, meets a group of five students from other school districts who will become her close friends. As I was writing, I decided that I had too many characters to suit my purposes, so I had to make one go away. Guess who left the group? The one Asian-American character in the story. Without realizing it I fulfilled the stereotype of the silent Asian, the “model minority,” who fades quietly into the background. How frustrating that even when I was trying to explore and expose racism, my own internalized dispositions about race popped out and got the best of me.

I don’t think that white people should stop including characters of color in their works, nor should we stop exploring racism in our writing. On the contrary, now, more than ever, whites need to name and expose racism in all its forms. We are at a wretched, horrifying place in our country where racist views are being accepted and promulgated by mainstream authority.  But, as I concluded in Race Among Friends, we whites must think, write, and perhaps most importantly, teach with deeper introspection, examining our own hidden attitudes about race first, lest we perpetuate the very attitudes we seek to expose.

---

[i] Modica, Marianne. Race Among Friends. Rutgers University Press, 2015.

[ii] Twain, Mark. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Brandywine Studio Press, 2008.

[iii] Lee, Harper. To Kill a Mockingbird. New York: Warner Books, 1960.

[iv] Jane Smiley, "Say It Ain't So, Huck: Second Thoughts on Mark Twain's 'Masterpiece'" Harper's Magazine 292.1748 (Jan. 1996): 61-67.

[v] Morrison, Toni.  Playing in the Dark. New York: Random House, 1993.

[vi] Lee, Harper. Go Set a Watchman.  Harper Perennial Modern Classics, 2016.

[vii] Modica, Marianne. The R Word. Endless Press, 2015.