I really wanted to write about White Privilege for this my third blog. I tried a number of times but it seems that I can’t do that before addressing the nebulous issue of Race. Why nebulous? And why do I capitalize Race? And White? And Black? To signal that each is a social construction. They’re taken for granted as fact, but they are far from factual. For me, racism is real; racialisation is real; race is not. Let me explain.
We know that historically there was a dominant belief in a biological hierarchy, an idea that the genetic make-up and physical characteristics of different groups were so distinct that they could not be considered to be of the same race i.e. species. Most notably skin colour, facial features and hair texture were distinguishing features and, you might not be aware, as I wasn’t, skull size — stemming from ideas derived from the evolution of different species. (I recently watched the film ‘Skin’ which recounted the experiences of Sandra Laing, a girl born Black (Coloured) to White Afrikaaner parents in 1950s Apartheid South Africa, and the indignities she suffered in the process of having her Race re-categorised over a thirty year period. It was during one of the court cases that we see her as child having her skull measured to arrive at some spurious conclusion.)
I remember in Biology class as a 13 or 14-year-old learning that humans fall into three distinct groups: Caucasoid, said to originate in the Russian Caucases, and therefore European; Mongoloid, referring to the regions around Mongolia and China; Negroid, relating to the continent of Africa. According to some models, there were four or five distinct races. Nobody will be surprised to read that, in this hierarchy, the group labeled Caucasoid/Caucasian was placed at the top while the group labeled Negroid/Negro was deemed to be at the bottom, with other groups at various levels in between. It was this self-serving and nefarious notion of biological inferiority that allowed slavery to prevail for so many centuries.
It’s now accepted by the scientific mainstream that the concept of race as a biological or genetic reality has no validity. In fact, humans share 99.9% of their DNA. As a result of the concept of racial genetic difference being seen as outdated, the terminology associated with it has largely fallen out of use. (For an interesting discussion about terminology, have a look at ‘Six reasons not to say ‘Caucasian’)
In general, the labels White and Black have gained currency and are now widespread. However, the idea of ‘race’ still persists. So, if not based on genetic difference, then what? To answer that, we need to make a brief further foray into the past.
I mentioned earlier that it was a belief in biological inferiority that allowed slavery to exist at all, let alone for so many centuries. Seeing people of African origin as less than, as inferior to, and, worst of all, not even human, was the way those who considered themselves to be Christian were able to rationalize their behavior. These ways of being and seeing became part of the culture in the US and UK, as well as in other countries where slavery was practiced. Laws, enforcement practices, economic and social relationships were created to keep the economy, which relied on free labor, in place.
Enough has been written about the terrors inflicted upon the people forcibly taken from their land that I don’t need to revisit them here. All I will say is that the system of slavery and its attendant attitudes and practices persisted for almost three centuries in the USA and well over a century in the case of the UK; in fact, even after it was abolished in England the practice continued in the Caribbean colonies where to this day ‘shade prejudice’ still exists. These were centuries in which the national psyche, as well as social and legal policies and practices, were being shaped and constructed on the principle of the inferiority of dark-skinned people of African descent. And not only inferiority, but danger. Given the context, I’ve no doubt the fear of retaliation was ever-present, hence the need to pre-empt any such reprisals through systems that repressed and contained the perceived source of danger.
When the system of slavery ended (some would say ‘morphed’ given the revelations in Ava du Vernay’s documentary ‘13th’), where did the ideas that were part of the national psyche go? Did they just evaporate? And what of the structures that kept the system of dominance and privilege in place? Were they overhauled wholesale? Hardly! According to a recent groundbreaking UK TV programme, ‘The School that Tried to end Racism’, when slavery ended in Britain compensation was paid to the enslavers rather than to those who’d been deprived of their freedom! It would be laughable if it weren’t so appalling. And in case anyone is thinking, as I used to, that it’s all so long ago, the programme revealed that the reparations were finally paid off only in 2015. Yes, really. So if money talks, what is it saying about who and what is valued and who and what is not?
From what I can see, a major reason the idea of ‘race’ persists is that the terms Black and White are just a hair’s breadth away from the biologically-based terminology of Negro and Cacausian. Indeed, in the Latin languages Spanish and Portuguese (both enslaving nations) the word ‘negro’ comes from the root word ‘niger’ meaning ‘black’ and, perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised to learn that the term ‘black’ wasn’t applied to people until the days of slavery.
Ideas around difference and the African ‘other’, inferiority and superiority, who does and does not belong or who is and is not a source of danger are still embedded in the Western cultural psyche. Because of their historical and etymological roots, the labels Black and White re-stimulate these ideas. Added to these associations are contemporary memes transmitted via social messages and media programming which reinforce expectations of danger, criminality and inferiority of whatever variety you might care to name (except perhaps in the area of physical strength for obvious reasons.)
This is why the idea of Race persists. Even if the definition has become rather more nebulous, the word still carries weight; it has substance and social currency. And this is the reason I don’t talk about ‘race’, unless engaged in a discussion such as this. I don’t use the term as if it’s a fixed quantifiable and uncontested ‘thing’. It’s as intangible and as toxic as a gas. It’s an idea that, for the most part, the ordinary citizen has unwittingly agreed to — whether in Western societies or anywhere colonialism has existed. It serves a function in structuring and stratifying society, in dividing and ruling, and in denying and affording opportunities. To talk about it as if it’s real, as if it just is, is to give it validity, which is to perpetuate and solidify it.
To underline the nebulous nature of Race, someone who is considered White in one culture could find themselves categorized as Black in another. And even more confusingly, someone who is raised White could then find themselves self-identifying as Black. Such was the case of Lacey Schwartz who in her fascinating film ‘Little White Lie’, using footage taken in real time over a number of years, documents her journey being raised White and Jewish, discovering that her heritage was not as she thought, and embarking on an exploration of what it means to be seen as Black- an identity she eventually also claimed. Race is a fluid thing, subject to cultural and political forces and consensus, and therefore rife with complexity — which conveniently keeps us all in a state of distraction fighting phantoms. This is not to say though that the consequences of racialisation, of people being divided along racial lines, are not real. We know all too well that they are.
The racialised terms White and Black are equally fluid. What does it mean to say someone is Black? On the surface it sounds as if it’s referring to skin colour. If it were as simple as that, Meghan Markle and George Floyd would not both be considered Black. Neither would they be categorized together if Black referred to physical characteristics. So what do they have in common? African ancestry. Given that it’s generally agreed that all humans have African ancestry, perhaps I should say recent African ancestry or the slightest drop of blood that makes someone a bit beige. However, even this definition is shifting, in US society at least, as evidenced by the recent debate over whether US Vice-President nominee Kamala Harris is Black, or even “Black enough”. (See Trevor Noah’s incisive analysis). If it were a simple matter of skin colour, no such debate would be necessary. It’s clear that Black doesn’t actually mean the colour black any more than White actually means white. How many people designated White are white? Being categorised as Black or White is a political act rather than a biological fact.
Of course, there are physical differences between groups of humans from different parts of the planet. But it’s the meaning that is given to those differences, the associations those differences call up in the mind of the onlooker, that affect the life chances of individuals in the most serious, and at times deadly, of ways. This is where race-ism comes in and why I say race-ism is real while Race is not.
I want to say more about fighting phantoms and the consequences of racialisation in the next blog. There’s a big part of me that doesn’t want to look at the barbarism of racism and bigotry and that’s impatient to move past it at speed and immerse myself in more soothing waters. But I’m being methodical because it feels necessary. I’m taking myself on a journey, and I hope you with me, to excavate what we take for granted that’s founded on a fiction and that has life-changing and life-threatening consequences for millions of people every day. (Included in that number are Brazilians of African heritage, Native Americans in the US or Canada, Aboriginal people in Australia, Arabs in France and many more marginalised groups around the globe as the dynamic, the same structures of thought, policy and practice, operate across international borders.)
The discussion will feel lighter when we reach the point where we can explore perspectives and practices that liberate us from mental slavery and that move us closer to living in what Martin Luther King called “a beloved community”. I really do believe that this is the opportunity George Floyd’s death has given us: to see and dismantle mental edifices that are built on very shaky ground and which require our collective agreement to keep in place, and to replace them with structures built on an understanding of our common humanity. I’m looking forward to taking a very deep, lengthy and refreshing dive into what that means, drawing on the work of visionaries and of cultural creatives to explore what such a society might look like. But there’s a little more dismantling to do first.