Critiques and Defenses

Whenever white conditioning is discussed within the white community, I find two reactions to be the most common:

1. One is a defense of being white, along the lines of "I shouldn't have to feel bad because I'm white."

Let me be clear: Identifying White Mind doesn't mean being guilty or ashamed to be white; on the contrary, I see it as a mark of strength and pride in fighting for the humanity of white people.

Here are the assumptions I begin with:

- It's great to stand rooted in and to take pride in my own version of being human. Being white is a particular ethnic and cultural experience, with infinite personal variations, each story as unique and valuable as any other human story. That is not what I'm referring to when I talk about White Mind.

- White Mind develops not as a result of us being white, but as a result of white people being the majority and dominant race. It's what our brains have internalized from all the unconscious things we've absorbed based on being the norm and the reference point in this society.

- White Mind is not what you believe, what you value, what you think, or what you intend; it's what sneaks out sideways despite your best intentions. It becomes visible in the impact and the outcomes. And in the testing of brain researchers.

- A critique of White patterns is not an attack on white people. It's an attempt to bring our social conditioning to consciousness so that we can make changes if we choose to. (Just as when women - and men - call attention to sexism, it's not, usually, an attack on maleness itself, but on the attitudes and behaviors that result from the ways males are socialized.)

2. The second response is distress that racial difference is being emphasized, because after all, "there's only one race: the human race."

Absolutely.

The problem is that at this time there are social structures, institutions, and a lot of confused people who make it impossible to live this truth. The object of the exercise is to clear the obstacles that are in the way of equity, justice and common humanity for all.

It's precisely because I believe that we are all one human family that I want to remove anything that's in my way, keeping me from acting on this truth. I want to be able to look at anyone of any race and connect deeply with the complete humanity that is there, person to person. I've discovered that the patterns I've absorbed unconsciously as a result of being socialized as a white American sometimes keep me from doing this fully. I've noticed that some of my internalized attitudes, behaviors and habits are problematic. I want to be free of them.

My assumptions:

- Recognizing the common humanity of all people in all our glorious colors is the destination we're all aiming for.

- Unfortunately, racism is still alive and active. If I personally believe in and practice not judging people by race, I have a responsibility to join in the work of freeing all of us from all the ways in which people currently are judged by race.

- Living in a society defined and divided by race affects us all. Whether I can see it or not, I, like everyone else, have developed patterns and coping mechanisms in response to this society. Some of these aren't useful, and contribute to divisions. It is within my power to become conscious of and work on freeing my mind from anything that isn't aligned with my belief that we are all one family.

- Practicing colorblindness is not an effective way to address where we are now; it doesn't honestly address the current reality, which is nowhere near colorblind. Practicing colorblindness allows white centrality to remain unchallenged.

For me, it's love that motivates this work - love for my sisters and brothers of every race, and love for myself. I want us all to have each other.

Talking Race

I had a racialized childhood. Racial identity and awareness was a major part of my upbringing, in my case because I was growing up as a highly visible member of a tiny minority: white Americans in 1960s Korea. I couldn't escape noticing that being American (which was assumed based on my being white) was different and conspicuous, because people called attention to it nearly every day.

As a result, I think about race all the time. If I'd been raised in the States, it probably wouldn't be the case. Especially if we'd remained in our family home in New Hampshire, I would've blended in and would likely have had few experiences that called attention to my own race or my experience of it.

I bring this up in relation to the current lively discussion about race in children's books, much of the latest talk in response to Elizabeth Bluemle's terrific PW post, "The Elephant in the Room." There is nothing new about this discussion; writers and scholars of color have been making similar observations and raising similar concerns about the children's book field in a continuous unbroken chorus for decades (see Rudine Sims Bishop, to mention just one voice).

It's an unfortunate truth that often the white community sits up and takes notices when a white person speaks, in a way they never do when the point is being made by a person of color. But it's still useful for white people to speak up on the subject of race, particularly because they have complete freedom not to.

As the majority and the norm, white people always have the option

of simply being themselves. They can say things like, "I just want to be seen as an individual," or "I'm not comfortable with labels; I'm just human." The assumption underlying these statements is that anyone is free to make the same choice. But the essence of minority identity is that the majority defines you by your difference from them.

Growing up in Korea, I might have wished, "I don't want to be seen as American, I just want to be myself." But no matter how I insisted on it, every Korean who encountered me was first going to notice - and to some extent define me and their expectations of me by - my race.

A constant barrage of expectations that

you will embody and represent your race can be exhausting. (Because the status of white Americans in Korea was highly privileged, my experience of being a minority was overwhelmingly positive. The worst I had to endure was regular requests to "please speak English conversation with me," and occasionally being chased by crowds of children yelling, "Hello-yah!")

Book creators of color, like all people of color in this country, are often consigned to a racialized world. Editors expect manuscripts and art directors assign images about cultural experiences, not fantasy worlds. Sales reps only pitch their books in communities of people who look like them. Booksellers shelve their titles in special sections, presumably only of interest to people from the same ethnic group. And they are expected to be continuously concerned with and to lead the charge on issues of race (while being criticized for doing so).

If those of us in the white community can pick up the ball and, with fierceness, persistence and creativity, make concerns about lack of diversity in children's book our issue, it might create a little slack so some of the rest of us can "just be ourselves."

My Newest Book!

Moon Watchers: Shirin's Ramadan Miracle, by Reza Jalali, is just out this month from Tilbury House Publishers.

Nine-year-old Shirin wants to join her family in the ritual of fasting for Ramadan, but her father says she's too young. This story portrays a middle-class American family in a Maine suburban town, focusing on universal issues such as sibling rivalry, while introducing readers to the experience of living the Muslim faith in the U.S.

It was a treat to work with Iranian-American writer Reza Jalali, a friend and fellow activist in the southern Maine area, who gave me all the references and feedback I needed to render the visual details of his story accurately. The portraits of the family members are inspired by his own family, and many of the objects in the book come from his home.

The Myth of Innocence

More than a decade ago, I participated in an "Undoing Racism" workshop run by the People's Institute for Survival and Beyond.

During a workshop break, I had a conversation with an African-American woman about the phenomenon of white people being so unaware of the bias they carry and their frequent passionate defense that since they didn't intend to do anything racist, it couldn't have been racist. Yet the impact of their attitudes or actions remains harmful.

In the course of our discussion, this woman challenged my characterization of this process as being completely unconscious. She commented that it was a willful blindness, that people were capable of seeing their bias but chose not to. I've been pondering this idea ever since.

I suppose that this aspect of white conditioning is like an addictive pattern. My understanding of the process of freeing oneself from an addiction is that one must first become so aware of the harm one is causing that the pain of continuing is greater than the pain of letting go of the addictive substance or behavior. This is the catalyst for change and the beginning of recovery.

Anyone observing from the outside the devastation caused by full-blown addiction would find it hard to believe that the addict could be unaware of the impact. Denial is an essential cog in the machinery that maintains addiction. The same case could be made for the ways in which white people spend so much time defending and justifying our behaviors (and our books) rather than examining and working to change them.

Of course I was innocent when as a child I began to absorb the patterns of whiteness. But as an adult, whether or not I've been complicit in my lack of awareness, I always have the option of choosing to see. The most useful response when someone points out the gap between the intention and the impact of my actions is not to defend my intention but to invest my energy in closing the gap, to do whatever it takes to ensure that the impact matches my intention.

My deepest commitment and most engaged work to free myself from White Mind began once I realized the harm I was causing myself, how much of me I had lost in allowing these patterns to speak and act for me. I wanted my self back. I've discovered that my journey is furthered by two inner companions: one, a fierce and relentless warrior whose eyes are always open; the other a wise companion who reminds me to reach for my own goodness and humanity.

My journey is fueled by my knowledge of the ways white patterns dehumanize others and myself, and lit by the hope that I can break free of them. And I have discovered that, moment by moment and day by day, when I choose to see these patterns, they become visible.