Tuesday, August 11, 2020

On the Fragility of Racial Discourse (among white people)

    The world, which is to say, the internet, has been awash these last few months with resources on learning about, addressing, and talking about racism. In the years since Michael Brown’s murder in Ferguson, Missouri, more and more white people are finding themselves able to recognize the persistent nature of white supremacist culture in the United States and its institutions. George Floyd’s murder in MInneapolis was a catalyst that reinvigorated the Black Lives Matter movement and led many white folks to want to better understand this world they live in, and to figure out what they can do to make a difference.

    As this new energy has sought ways to express itself, on the streets and on the internet, the challenges of performative allyship have been brought to many people’s attention. Ally is not a word I generally use, for a number of reasons not central to this post. But I do engage in careful discernment around how I show up and represent myself, and try to avoid jumping on any bandwagon without seriously considering what it means to me, how it will be perceived by others, and what the depth of my commitment really is. I’ve been a part of institutions that proudly wave their Black Lives Matter banner, while Black lives within the institutions have felt diminished. And I’ve been a part of institutions that don’t think it matters if they say anything about Black lives mattering. As a queer white person, I’d rather be part of the former, with a recognition that I generally have power within such an institution to hold at least some space for the discomfort and the work of radically transforming our institutions in life-affirming, justice-seeking, counter-oppressive ways. We’re all, as institutions and individuals, at different places on this journey of dismantling white supremacy, and all white people and traditionally white-led institutions are to some degree racist. (As a white person I am choosing to refrain from making generalizations about people of color - and I think it is important to acknowledge that racism is not simply a black-white issue and is very often internalized much as homophobia and sexism are.) The question is not about being a good (non-racist ally) white person or a bad (racist) white person; the question is, are people with white privilege willing to engage in the process and do the work of recognizing and dismantling white supremacy culture so that we can live in a world where Black lives do truly matter?

    

    One of the more popular, and perhaps controversial, books at this time is Robin DiAngelo’s White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism. I think DiAngelo’s book offers a powerful analysis and naming of a dynamic that others have been observing for decades. Reading it helped me clearly see and understand some problematic dynamics that I had engaged in, dynamics grounded in my socialization as a woman. Although I have long been driven by a sense of collective liberation (my liberation is tied up with your liberation), in internalizing White Fragility, I recognized a way that patriarchy had made me more complicit in white supremacy. All the more reason to smash them both!

    Reading White Fragility also gave me a lens through which to notice what I might call “heterofragility,” (though I welcome a better term) when I shared with someone how they had harmed me by diminishing my homosexuality, and they responded with, “But that wasn’t my intent!” And yet, in that moment, being able to recognize the dynamic didn’t help me in any way. Robin DiAngelo’s book may explain why it’s hard to talk to white people about racism (and actually it would be enhanced, I think, with more psychology explaining what is going on in the human brain and body in those moments), but as I recollect, she doesn’t then go on to offer suggestions on how to talk to white people about racism. The book may be better for including that content, but perhaps that’s not Robin DiAngelo’s part to play in this world. The problems arise when we expect her to be the person who can teach us how to talk about race.

    Criticisms of Robin DiAngelo and her work have been floating around since the time her book was published. I agree with those who say that her work centers white people, and in so doing reinforces elements of white supremacy. I have read many books where I think it would behoove the author to do more to acknowledge their identities and those of their intended audience; White Fragility is clearly about whiteness, and DiAngelo, like many of us, is still learning how to use her existing privilege to help create a world in which that particular privilege doesn’t exist. This essay, too, centers whiteness, and I certainly hope no one takes me to be an anti-racism expert!

    I would love to see more respectful and considerate critique of DiAngelo’s work, the kind of deep engagement with the issues that allows us to reinterpret her observations in terms and experiences that resonate with us. For example, the one time I quoted DiAngelo in a sermon, I named her, affirmed her overall project, and then said, “I disagree with her understanding of the concept of ‘assuming good intentions.’” DiAngelo thinks that concept privileges intent over impact. I agree that in practice that can happen, but I believe that to truly assume good intentions, we can go straight to attending to impact because we’ve already assumed that the intentions were good and thus don’t need to discuss them.


    But the problem I’m noting, what inspired me to actually write this essay, is when people I respect start sharing articles that attack DiAngelo personally. (If someone has a personal experience of being hurt by Robin DiAngelo, then I welcome a criticism of her person and not just her ideas. Otherwise, why are we throwing her under the bus?) In this particular case, she’s accused of being a grifter because of how much money she makes off of talking about anti-racism. But DiAngelo’s popularity is the responsibility of the people who have been eating up her words. If people are paying her ludicrous amounts of money to speak, it is because they are so desperate for a solution, for a balm, for a cathartic confrontation with their shame that will release them from its grasp, that they will pay this calm white lady anything to call them out.


    The problem here is not one white woman managing to capitalize on white guilt. The problem is white supremacy culture that thinks we can buy indulgences in order to become ‘not racist,’ that looks for a savior in one white woman (or anyone, really) who has never claimed to be such. There is no quick fix to racism, and no one voice (of any race) that is going to have the answers. White fragility, unfortunately, leads some with skin like me to feel the need to step on others with whom we disagree, rather than engaging with and improving upon their ideas, or directing attention instead to better concepts.

    It’s interesting, even as I write this, to see the traps I’m falling into: I’m spending my energy critiquing white people for wasting their energy critiquing white people, and I somehow think that I’m a better person for it. This is a deadly spiral to be stuck in, driven by feelings of anger and fear, by a desire for respectful (but not necessarily rational) discourse around emotional issues. But is there a way out without first acknowledging the obstacles in our way? This, I think, is the purpose of Robin DiAngelo’s book, to illuminate one of the factors that impedes real anti-racist transformation, so that we white folks might find our way around it or through it or whatever it takes to get past this fragility, so that we can move on to the real work. To expect Robin DiAngelo and her work to guide you through all of the necessary transformation of anti-racism is ungrounded, but her lens just might help free someone from a snare that has been holding them back.


If you are looking for some books on how to talk about race and address racism in real life, here are some great recent books by Black authors: Ijeoma Oluo’s So You Want To Talk About Racism, Ibram X. Kendi’s How To Be An Anti-Racist, Crystal Fleming’s How To Be Less Stupid About Race, or Resmaa Menakem’s My Grandmother’s Hands: Racialized Trauma and the Pathway to Mending Our Hearts and Bodies.