George Floyd, Protests, and Rioting (Part 3): Engagement and Conversations

We now come to Part 3 in my brief series in which I’m sharing my take on the recent events that have enveloped our country. In this post, I want to address a variety of items regarding how we as a society are trying to discuss and deal with everything. (As it turns out, I will be adding a Part 4 as well). Discussion over uncomfortable subjects is a much-needed thing, but things can quickly get heated, as anyone on social media knows, and any hope of engaging in respectful but still uncomfortable conversation gives way to ideological warfare. In fact, one of the easiest ways to shut down the possibility of real discussion is to set up slogans and catchphrases that act as ideological idols. If the other person doesn’t bow down and declare their whole-hearted obedience to that slogan, then that person is deemed the enemy and must be silenced.

White Supremacy, White Privilege, and Systematic Racism
That is why I don’t like terms like white supremacy, white privilege, and systematic racism. It is not that I don’t think racism still exists and still is one of the major problems in our country today. The problem I have is with the way that these terms are being used to silence anyone who doesn’t automatically agree with a certain political viewpoint. So, let me tease out a few thoughts on these terms.

For most of my life, it was understood that white supremacy was associated with organizations like the KKK or neo-Nazis, whose stated objective was just that: white supremacy and dominance over all other minority groups. To be a white supremacist was to ascribe to that ideology. But now, particularly over the past few years, that definition has been changed to now essentially mean America: America is white supremacist, it was founded on white supremacy, and if you are thus an American, are proud to be an American, and don’t utterly condemn America as a white supremacist nation, then you are clearly a white supremacist.

I write about this a bit more in a post I wrote in connection to the Charlottesville riots a few years ago, but here I’ll just say I utterly reject the notion that America was founded on white supremacy. It was founded during a time when the slave trade and white supremacy dominated Europe, and although the entire economy of southern states was indeed founded on white supremacy, the other half the of country abhorred it and was working to abolish it from the very beginning. It seems to me that the way the term “white supremacy” is now being used is ultimately to simply smear and silence anyone who happens to be conservative. It is almost commonplace now to see, especially on social media, the term “white supremacist” attached to virtually ever conservative politician or thinker.

Then there is the term white privilege, which is a little more ambiguous. Last week, I happened to see a small bit on the James Corden Show in which James Corden was talking with a black woman on his staff about white privilege. You can watch it here:

As you can see, her point was that “white privilege” doesn’t mean that white people have to “feel guilty” or “repent of their whiteness.” It simply means to recognize the fact that if you are white in America, you haven’t had those extra obstacles in life that black people have had in America based on the color of their skin, and therefore you are in a “privileged” position to address those racial problems that continue to exist in America. My reaction to seeing that was basically, “Well, of course that’s true! What white person in their right mind doesn’t realize that?”

But that got me thinking a bit more of my own upbringing. I grew up in the suburbs of Chicago and my family was a very “news-watching” family. Throughout my entire childhood, every night at 10:00 pm we’d sit in front of the TV and watch Channel 7 Eyewitness news with John Drury. And just about every night at some point in the broadcast there was a story about another murder or another violent clash with the police on the southside of Chicago. My dad would sometimes talk about how when he was at Wheaton College, he was part of a Christian group that would go every Sunday to the inner city of Chicago and basically do church services and Sunday School for the inner city youth. And even back in the late 50s-early 60s, things were pretty dangerous and grim.

Now, obviously, I never lived in the inner cities or had to ever endure any of that kind of hardship, but ever since I was a kid, I was acutely aware that I, as a white kid in the suburbs, obviously had certain advantages and privileges that impoverished black kids in Chicago would never had. As I kid watching the news every night, I felt so horrible for the people who were trapped in those circumstances, I was angry with those living there who were killing people, and I couldn’t understand why the city leaders in Chicago were just content to let the south side be a perpetual war zone. And it wasn’t just the inner cities, it was just obvious that black people in America had to live with those extra weights stemming from our racist past. Thus, I guess my own naivete shows in the fact that I am shocked that there are apparently white people who are completely oblivious to this. If “acknowledging your white privilege” means that, then of course.

But that is not the only way “white privilege” is being used. Some people are, in fact, using the term to try to make white people “feel guilty about their whiteness.” Over these past few weeks, I’ve seen online various videos of white people on their knees with their hands up in the air, repeating some “repentance mantra” that some guy on a microphone was telling them to repeat—one of these took place in some town up in New England. Then there is that recent video of various white Hollywood celebrities looking into the camera, asking for black people to forgive them for their white privilege. I don’t think that kind of thing does anyone any good. If someone is purposely trying to use the term “white privilege” to invoke some kind of “white guilt,” I’m going to disagree with it.

Then there is term systematic racism, which is too ambiguous, in my opinion. In reality, it is used as sort of a litmus test: If you say, “There is systematic racism,” then you are good, and if you say, “No, there isn’t systematic racism,” then you clearly are a white supremacist and therefore bad. But what does “systematic racism” mean? People who object to the term point to the fact that, unlike in the pre-Civil War South and the Jim Crow Era, we no longer have laws and statues in the current American legal system that are racist in intent. Just the other day marked the 53^rd anniversary of national Loving Day, when the Supreme Court ruled that states’ laws that made interracial marriage illegal were unconstitutional. Those kinds of laws are examples of systematic racism, and we no longer have those kinds of laws in the American legal system anymore. Therefore, the argument goes, although racism certainly still exists, systematic racism doesn’t.

Other people say that systematic racism goes much deeper than certain laws–i.e. systemic racism. They say the very system is rigged against black people and minorities and keeps them in a perpetual stated of oppression. To a certain extent, I get what they mean, but at the same time, I still think it is much too broad a term. It isn’t necessarily true across the board. There are countless minorities who have prospered and succeeded in the “American system.” That’s not to say they still haven’t experienced racism in one form or the other, but the fact that “the system” has not kept them in a perpetual state of oppression. “The system” has provided opportunities by which many minorities have succeeded and thrived. That being said, there really are clear examples of deep, systemic racism within our country—namely, many of our inner cities. No one in their right mind could see what has happened and is happening in the inner cities and not conclude that there is systemic racism there. So, we have to be clear: No, there isn’t “systematic racism” in America, but yes, in certain areas of the country (I would argue the inner cities), we do see “systemic racism.”

Current Discussions About Race: Kaepernick and Brees
Another thing that has to be discussed is the way in which we are seeing the “national conversation” unfold. We can begin with the Colin Kaepernick protest controversy in 2016. When Kaepernick began kneeling during the national anthem to protest continuing police brutality, I had no problem with it, because there still are instances of police brutality where too many times bad cops get away it. Sure, I understood why some people didn’t want football games to become platforms for political statement, but still my attitude was, “Tough, deal with it. Kaepernick has the constitutional right to do it.” A couple of guys kneeling for the national anthem isn’t going to impinge on your ability to enjoy the game.

But then Trump started to inject his divisive rhetoric into the situation, going so far as to call those who were kneeling, “Sons of bitches.” I am certain that if he hadn’t done that, the country would have been able deal with it in a much more productive way and perhaps the national discussion could have been more civil. But in typical Trump fashion, an already tense situation was made worse. At the same time, though, Kaepernick didn’t help his own cause with some of the stunts he pulled, like wearing socks to practices and interviews that depicted pigs in police uniforms. If you are going to argue that there is a problem in law enforcement with stereotyping all black men as dangerous criminals, it isn’t a good move to then stereotype all police officers as racist pigs. That doesn’t move the conversation forward in any constructive way.

Fast forward to today, where there has been other instances of racial dialogue and reaction, some good, some not so good. Let’s begin with Drew Brees’ comments. This is a man who has given millions of dollars to help impoverished black communities rebuild their lives in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina. When he was recently asked about his opinion of protesting by kneeling for the national anthem, he simply said he didn’t agree with it, because for him, standing for the national anthem was a sign of respect, not just for the flag, but for all the progress we have made as a nation. The vitriol and venom that was thrown at him for saying that really was shocking.

Now, many black athletes and coaches came to his defense and said that, even though they were upset that he seemingly didn’t really get it, they knew full well he wasn’t racist and they saw it as an open door to further discussion about the racial problems we still have. Others, though, were not so nice. Malcolm Jenkins went to Twitter and told Brees to “Shut the f— up.” I’m sorry, but that reaction is just as bad as Trump’s “sons of bitches” comment. You can disagree with someone, you can be angry with someone, but whether it is Kaepernick’s decision to kneel or Brees’ saying he doesn’t agree with kneeling, both Trump’s and Jenkins’ reactions are not right. Not only are they both looking to shut down the right both Kaepernick and Brees has to express their opinion, but they both are actually causing more division and making it harder for people come together to make things better.

One of the best reactions to Brees’ comments were those of former football player Nate Burleson. You can watch it here. In my opinion, that is the way to respond, because that response maintains respect for the other person and ends up taking the conversation about race in a much more sober and ultimately positive direction.

Emmanuel Acho
There are other examples, but I want to mention one more. Another football player, Emmanuel Acho, has put out a couple of videos entitled, “Uncomfortable Conversations with a Black Man” in which, like the title suggests, he very honestly and openly discusses a number of very uncomfortable topics. The man is a devout Christian and is well worth the listen. If you are a white person, the videos will make you think about your own experiences, for sure.

That being said, since the purpose of the videos is to engage in and promote conversation, I want to share one or two personal reactions to a couple of things mentioned in the videos. I hesitate to do this, primarily because of what I wrote earlier about how some have used the terms “white supremacy” and “white privilege” to shut certain people up (i.e. If you don’t admit you are racist, then that means you are really, rally racist). I don’t have any time for people who feel it is their duty to go around labeling you a racist if you don’t agree with a certain political party or mouth certain slogans. If we want to have honest conversations about race and racial tensions in America, then we have to really listen to others as well as honestly engage in the conversation and tell of your experience and views.

In Acho’s most recent conversation with Matthew McConaughey, McConaughey asks him what he can do better as a white man in the midst of everything we’re going through. Acho says, “You have to acknowledge there’s a problem, so you can take more ownership for the problem. …Individually, you have to acknowledge implicit bias. You’ll have to acknowledge that you’ll see a black man and for whatever reason you will view them as more of a threat than you will a white man.”

As I said earlier, it boggles my mind how there can be anyone who doesn’t realize there is a racial problem in America. That has led to my frustration with a number of “white liberals” with whom I’ve had some rather heated arguments. I don’t mean for this to sound political, but it is very frustrating to be accused of not acknowledging the racial problem in America immediately after I talk about how there is a racial problem in America, simply because I disagree with the liberal way of assessing the problem and its proposed solutions. One of the biggest barriers to working together to find common ground so that the deep problems of racism can be addressed is this self-destructive tendency at the national level to demonize any and everyone who doesn’t automatically agree with a particular political ideology.

I also want to respond to Acho’s second comment. I’m not sure that is really the case all the time. Obviously, I’m just a “white guy” and I live in a majority “white country.” I will never really know what it is like to live as a black man in this country because, quite obviously, I’m not black. Still, when I was growing up, our next-door neighbors were black, when I was a social outcast in junior high, one of my memories is sitting at the “social outcast” lunch table with a variety of Asian, Filipino, Indian and black kids. Where I live today, probably about 1/3 of my neighbors are black families. And almost every day, when I take my kid to a local park to walk or ride his bike on the trails, at least half the people we pass by are black men, women, boys, and girls who are out enjoying the park as well. I’m sorry (actually I’m not sorry), but I’ve never encountered a random black man at the park or in my neighborhood and have been afraid simply because I saw he was black.

If I were to articulate the thoughts that go through my mind whenever I encounter a black person I don’t know, it would be something like this: “Here comes a person who probably has had a vastly different life experience than me, solely because of the color of his/her skin. And because of the racial tensions that still exist in America, I wonder if this person just assumes that I’m some sort of racist? I hope this person isn’t afraid of me because I’m white.” And then, if I have to grab my kid who isn’t paying attention and is starting to walk in front of the person, my immediate thought is, “Oh gosh, I hope this person doesn’t think I’m grabbing my kid because I’m afraid of him/her.”

Have I ever been a bit afraid walking past a black man? Sure, but that had more to do with the fact that I was near a more dangerous part of Chicago, or that I could smell alcohol and other substances in the air, or that the guy had a mean look on his face and seemed to have more muscles in his pinky than I did in my entire body. Of course, I’ve had encounters like that with a few white guys as well. It was the circumstances of the situation, not the skin color, that got me afraid. In any case, I share this because if we really want to have honest conversations about what we think and feel when it comes to race relations, we have to have honest conversations.

Conclusion Thus Far
And that really is the ultimate point in this post: If you want to have an honest conversation about race and race relations, you have to be ready to have an honest conversation, and that means sharing what you think and what your experiences are, and then listening to what others have to say, especially others who don’t necessarily see everything in the exact same way you do. It involves exercising a bit of grace, patience, and charity toward someone who might not agree with you. It means not projecting on that person all the stereotypical evils of “the other” that you abhor. It means trying to first and foremost find those areas where you do share common ground and you do agree, and then openly, honestly, and respectfully trying to have those uncomfortable conversations that can be constructive.

I know I haven’t always been able to live up to that ideal, but I certainly try. One thing I have come to clearly see in all this is that more than anything else, the thing that is the greatest barrier to people coming together to address the wrongs that need fixing is, in fact, politics and ideologies. That is going to be the topic of a bonus post, Part 4.