Racial Justice Reflection Series – Chapter 1 What is Racism?

“Much as a fish is unaware of water, so whiteness – for white folk- exists on the fringe of consciousness because it is so ‘normal’, obvious, and ‘just the way things are.'”

About 15 years ago my husband attended a professional society meeting in Atlanta, Georgia. I tagged along and spent my days seeing the sights: the Coca Cola museum, the state capital building, etc. One day I took the train to the Martin Luther King memorial. When I got off the train, I had to walk through what my raised-in-rural Michigan eyes perceived as a “sketchy” neighborhood. I got to Ebenezer Baptist Church, I looked at the lovely fountain, and I went into the museum where there was an exhibit about lynching. Truth be told, until I went through that exhibit, what I knew about lynching would have fit on a small sticky note. As I moved through the exhibit, I repeatedly came near tears. It was the most devastating museum experience I have ever had. “How,” I wondered, “could some people see fellow human beings as so ‘other’?”

Then, as I was leaving the museum complex, I learned. On my way out, I stopped and asked for directions to the nearest public transportation stop and then asked, rather diffidently, if someone could walk to the stop with me as I felt uncomfortable in the neighborhood. Yes. I asked for that favor. The woman with whom I was talking looked at me with eyes full of pity; suddenly I felt myself looking through her eyes at me. In that moment, I saw an educated, middle-class white woman who felt entitled to special treatment. Seeing the look, I abruptly said, “I remember how to get back to the train station. Thank you for your time.”

Massingale, in the first chapter talks about white privilege, and how most white people are not even aware of it, that it’s just the ocean in which they swim. Until that moment in Atlanta, I would have denied any knowledge of white privilege; I would have said that we’ve fixed everything in this country over the last couple of generations. A few years after the Atlanta trip, I read Isabel Wilkerson’s book The Warmth of Other Suns about The Great Migration of African Americans out of the American South in the middle part of the 20th century. The book goes into detail about how relocating people were treated when they arrived in northern cities; in those accounts, I heard echoes of things said (on the other side) by family and friends in my northern Michigan childhood. While reading that book, I had to recognize how much poison had seeped into my unconsciousness and how much work I still needed to do.

Am I a racist? I know which answer I want to give. I know who I want to be. First, though, I have to acknowledge the answer that lady in the museum would have given about me that day.

Liz Rodriguiz is a long-time member of SMSP, serving in various capacities, including liturgy planning, RCIA, and currently the Catholic Thinkers group. She has worked for the University of Michigan for over 30 years in various office jobs. She and her husband, Ricardo, live in a house with five cats and surrounded by quilts she’s made.

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