Hi. My name is Cate and I'm a secret bigot. It has been one month since my last racist thought and I'm very sorry.
I feel relieved and embarrassed at the sight that sentence.
Admission is the first step.
Until about a month ago, I had no idea I was a secret racist and I'm
guessing hoping you didn't know I was either. I grew up in Alabama and while that is not an excuse it is a fact that has made my bigotry hard to identify and overcome.
Now before I lose friends, let me clarify, I have never hated individual people of any color nor have I ever thought I was better than individual black, hispanic, etc. No, my bigotry was more broad and less obvious. My bigotry came in the subtle form of ignoring white privilege and the continued existence of racism, using words like "they" and "them", locking my car doors when I saw a black dude walking across the street (super subtle, right) because of course he was probably nice but you never know. Granted, I locked my doors when a sketchy person of any color walked across the street, but isn't judging someone's character based on outward appearance, race or otherwise, bigotry?
With riots in Ferguson, New York, and more recently, Baltimore, I started seeing how my inner race monologue was actually a problem.
Until recently, I couldn't understand why someone would be mad about the death of a criminal.
See, I grew up in a world where subtle racism was the norm. We liked black people but our hearts raced a little faster and our palms sweat a little more when we saw a "dark" group walking towards us. In high school, I was allowed to be friends with anyone I wanted but it was quite obvious I was not allowed/encouraged to date a black/mixed/non-white guy because "they have different backgrounds. Plus it would make life for your children very hard". We said things like "she's pretty…for a black girl"or "he's well-spoken…for a black dude." Even still, if you asked me 10 years ago if I were a racist, I would have told you "no".
My book club recently read the book
Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption by Bryan Stevenson. The timing of reading this book could not have come into my life at a more perfect time. It came after Ferguson and New York with Baltimore happening right in the middle.
It is a social justice biography where Bryan Stevenson tells stories of
legal racial and social injustice that occurred between the 1980s and 2000s and how he and his organization, Equal Justice Initiative in Montgomery, AL, represented
"the innocent, the inadequately defended, the children, the domestic abuse survivors, the mentally ill—the imprisoned" (review by Amy Cheney, Alameda County Library, Juvenile Hall, CA). He tells several stories of injustice throughout the book but the main story throughout is about a man named Walter McMillian, a black man accused of the murder of a young white woman in Monroeville, AL (Rob's hometown).
Long story short, a young woman, Ronda Morrison, was murdered in broad daylight at the cleaners where she worked and when, after months of searching, police officials could not figure out who did it, they pinned the murder on Walter who had a plethora of witnesses at his home for a barbecue during the time of the murder. Walter was sent to death row before he ever had a court date. Stevenson took on Walter's case and eventually, after many years and even more hurdles, got Walter released from prison. Sorry for the spoiler, but google would tell you the same thing.
Throughout his book, Stevenson shared multiple stories where someone had been wrongly accused, unethically treated in jail or prison, sentenced to death or life in prison as a child for violent and nonviolent acts (most of whom were mentally or emotional impaired). At the beginning of every new story, Stevenson always gave background to the subject. He did this because it is unfair to define someone by what they do and ignore from where they come.
When we white people complain about our black counterparts rioting or protesting in the streets, running from cops even though innocent, claiming racism when we see otherwise, we are not taking into account the
years decades centuries of racial injustice: lynchings, hangings, beatings, oppression that our dear friends and their families have faced.
It has not been
that long since a black man could be found hanging from a street corner tree because he was accused of looking at a white woman the wrong way. It has not been
that long since dogs were commanded to attack a black woman for peacefully marching across a bridge for racial equality. It has not been
that long since a young black girl was verbally attacked by grown white men and women as she walked into an empty schoolhouse because all the white parents refused to bring their white children to school that day.
There are deep seeded and long standing feelings of fear and oppression in the black community that we cannot simply ignore or deny.
I get it, though, racism gets thrown out there a lot when the black community has routine interactions with police, like being pulled over, and it annoys white people. This is where white privilege comes into play. When we get pulled over for speeding, we realize it was because we were speeding. When a black person gets pulled over, his/her mind automatically assumes race and here's why: history has trained him/her that everything is about the color of his/her skin.
White people: we don't assume race because we've never had to. That is white privilege.
It is no secret that Freddie Gray and Eric Garner had broken the law. Freddie had the illegal switch blade and Eric had been illegally selling cigarettes, allegedly at least. I don't think anyone is arguing whether or not the crimes they committed were illegal. What people are arguing, why the black community is so upset (and we should be too), is that these men are now dead because of minor and nonviolent crimes.
As citizens of the United States of America, these men deserved a day in court; a chance to defend themselves in front of a judge and jury. They will never get that chance because they are now dead. Regardless of the color of the policemen who killed them, they died at the hands of law enforcement and they shouldn't have. The black community isn't upset because black men and women get arrested. They're upset because they feel targeted and they're upset because our
white privilege denies them their experiences every time we deny that racism still exists.
In the book,
Just Mercy, Bryan Stevenson tells of an encounter he had with an elderly black woman after a day in court defending one of his many cases. The woman explained to him that every week she would come to the courthouse to comfort the people in pain. When her grandson was just 15-years-old, he was murdered. His murderers (also young black men) were sent to prison for the rest of their lives. She, at first, thought their conviction would make her feel better but it didn't. After their day in court, she sat in the courtroom and cried when a stranger came up to her and let her lean on them for comfort. After that encounter, she decided that she was "supposed to be here to catch some of those stones people cast at each other."
Thinking of racial injustice is very overwhelming. We have a lot of time to make up for and a long road of recovery still ahead of us. We won't always get it right, but the risk of fumbling through racial reconciliation is a risk worth taking. We have to start somewhere. I suggest we start by becoming stone catchers instead of stone casters. We can help rebuild broken relationships from long ago, one stone at a time.
"Constantly being suspected, accused, watched, doubted, distrusted, presumed guilty, and even feared is a burden borne by people of color that can't be understood or confronted without a deeper conversation about our history of racial injustice." Bryan Stevenson
"And as they continued to ask him, He stood up and said to them 'Let him who is without sin among you throw the first stone." John 8:7
