Why I decided to Social Distance Myself from Talking to White People about Race.
My journey towards healing from racial trauma.
Let me start off addressing two important facts about me: 1) I am a Black woman married to a White man. And 2) I am a Christian. Why does this matter in relation to this post?
First, I’ve experienced much backlash from both White and Black people when I dare speak about racial issues and trauma while being married to a White man.
White folk (In my Karen voice):
“I mean, your husband is White. Isn’t that kinda racist against him?”
Black Folk:
“How she gone’ talk about racism and she’s married to a White man!” (Proceeds to watch ‘Sistah’ Soldier’ deactivate my ‘Black Card’)
Second, with the help of the church folk (and when I say the church folk I mean White evangelicals), I’ve heard and read everybody and their mommas’ theological views about God and race.
Some Church folk:
“Politics don’t belong in the pulpit!”
Other church folk:
“God doesn’t see color!”
Some Other Church Folk:
“But, race isn’t a biblical concept!”
And…Some Mo’ Church Folk:
“Talking about race is divisive! Just preach the gospel!”
So with that, if you find yourself reciting, agreeing, reiterating, excusing, or consenting with any of the above rhetoric during, or after reading this piece — pause…take a deep breath (woooosah)…and refer to the PSA below:
Now if you’re still reading this, the above preface ironically contains some of the reasons for my sabbatical from talking to White people about race.
My imaginary Foe and ‘Whataboutisms’
My Imaginary Foe
P̵i̵c̵t̵u̵r̵e̵ ̵i̵t̵, ̵S̵i̵c̵i̵l̵y̵,̵ ̵1̵9̵2̵2̵. Picture it, Christmas, 2018. I was watching the nightly news with a particular White individual about an all too familiar commentary regarding yet another response to racial unrest in the U.S. This was a very rare occasion as I 1) Rarely see this individual, so we don’t usually watch the news together. And, 2) When we do see one another, it’s always been the minimal: “So how things been?” But never the: “So, how have things REALLY been?” type of relationship. Which is cool, as we have both become seemingly fine with the cordial tea and crumpets, unseasoned, “I’m only here for the day” type of chit-chat over the last 10 plus years.
However, it was in that moment of me fighting my frustration and sadness of yet another Black person killed by the hands of the police, and at the same time praying that my White, chit-chat and scones acquaintance who comes from a long line of “I don’t see color” ideology, would not attempt to engage me about what unexpectedly became the third leg of our triangle. The nightly news.
Now this triangle strategy was not unfamiliar between the two of us; however, before it was just regular t.v. during the holidays — back to back 24 hours of ‘A Christmas Story’ perhaps? Unfortunately, what we used in the past to avoid prolonged direct communication failed to serve it’s purpose this time, as the second leg of our triangle looked at me inquisitively and asked:
“Say Mary, ya know this race stuff? Do you think it’s real, or kinda all in the head?” (While simultaneously doing the index finger pointing to the head thing).
wait…
At that moment, I admittedly found myself experiencing heavy cognitive dissonance. I wanted to believe that if I engaged in just one more of these conversations, that it might be worth it. That I might not leave feeling bitter, enraged, hurt, and utterly exhausted. That maybe I would be able to show a little of my old and fresh wounds, and the salt from rejection and White tears wouldn’t be the reception. Maybe I wouldn’t have to present my usual 20-minute power point presentation attached with at least 10 sources, no less than 5 years old, from prominent and respected theologians, pastors, sociologists, psychologists, anthropologists, digital inteligencias, and a handwritten note from my therapist vouching for my sanity before I would receive a drip of belief or basic empathy.
On the other hand, the reality was that history has proven otherwise. Commentary laced with ‘Whataboutisms’ stay on heavy rotation. Verbally vomited at my feet before the perpetrators’ brain can take in and process such vital and sensitive information that was just cautiously delivered.
So I settled my dissonance, and had, at most, a rather civil discussion. However, the full content of the conversation is not important in this piece, but rather my emotional injurious response to the story in which I use to frame a bigger discussion.
It hurt. Again. The truth is, this was not just about this particular individual, but rather once again about how my/our experiences are relentlessly questioned, minimized, denied, or flat out dismissed. See, the implicit message behind the million dollar question: “Is it all in your head?” is:
“I don’t believe you.”
“I. do. not. believe. you.”
It implies that there must be another explanation as to why we cry over spilled blood in the streets. And the alternative is that “it’s not me, it’s you.” It is an illusion. Like an imaginary foe — or maybe friend. You know, that handy dandy ‘get out of jail free’ “race card” friend. The friend that we are so privileged to carry and cash in whenever our imaginations start to troll us about that pesky racism thingy.
Imaginary frenemy maybe?
Sarcasm aside, the point is that this question from this particular person wasn’t in a silo. It was another White person being dismissive, another White person refusing to believe their shared phenotype just might have done wrong far more recent than 400 years ago. Far more recent than Jim Crow. Another White person implicitly suggesting that my interpretation of my black experiences are rooted in an underdeveloped ability to reason and an unwarranted and uncontrollable surplus of emotion. Another attempt at gaslighting in order to not disturb their carefully built racial comfort. Another audacious non-believer arrogantly questioning my sanity. My reality.
Now let me be crystal clear — this is not about intention. To be perfectly honest, I believe that most White people that I engage with, are not out to intentionally inflict pain. However, unintentional or not, the truth is, the years upon years of ‘I don’t believe you’s’ even if followed by ‘That wasn’t my heart’ or ‘I didn’t mean to’s’ has worn out my soul. I’m tired. I no longer have the bandwidth for mental gymnastics and emotional first aid after yet another wound — even if it is unintentional. My go-to defense mechanisms are no longer serving me well. My body is saying “No more sis, It’s time to heal.”
The truth is, this was not just about this particular individual, but rather once again about how my/our experiences are relentlessly questioned, minimized, denied or flat out dismissed.
‘Whataboutisms’ (tu quoque)
Defined by Oxford Dictionaries [Whataboutism] is “the technique or practice of responding to an accusation or difficult question by making a counter-accusation or raising a different issue.”
This concept is not new, however. Tú quoque, the Latin word meaning ‘you also,’ is a type of ad hominem argument in which an accused person turns an allegation back on his or her accuser, thus creating a logical fallacy (Norquist, 2019). Van Fleet (2011) explains, “The tu quoque fallacy occurs when one charges another with hypocrisy or inconsistency in order to avoid taking the other’s position seriously.”
Now, as an educator I’ve learned that if something needs to be emphasized and clarified, it needs to be broken down in practical terms. Moreover, as a Christian coming from a Black church, I’ve been taught to “Make it plain sis!”
Example #1
Black person: “Black Lives Matter!”
White person: “What about Black on Black crime!?”
[Here] the said White person uses a Whataboutism or tu quoque argument in that he/she dismisses the hurting Black persons argument because he/she believes said Black person is speaking in a hypocritical manner. And for the sake of argument, let’s say that Black on Black crime indeed needs to be addressed…
Let me clear my throat…
🗣THIS DOES NOT invalidate the hurting Black person’s presenting argument about injustice against Black peeeeople!!!
(Whataboutism)
Example #2:
Black person: “Black Lives Matter!”
White person: “What about his criminal record?! He’s a thug!”
In addition to respectability politics here, according to the tu quoque fallacy (Whataboutism), this type of argument is often used as a “red herring tactic” to deflect the substance of the presenting argument at hand (Bluedorn, 2002). So rather than attacking the argument itself, the [white person] attacks the moral character or actions of the dead black woman/man (i.e. “But she’s hangs around drug dealers!”) to divert attention from having a logical discussion of the presenting argument at hand.
I now present to you…
Example #3:
Black person: “Black Lives Matter!”
White person: “NO! ALLLLLL…” (sigh)
Ya’ll know the rest.
There is one point that I want to highlight from the examples above to help us understand how Whataboutisms play a role in my vacation from talking to White people about race.
The Empathy Gap
The empathy gap is “a cognitive bias that causes people to struggle to understand mental states that are different from their present state” (effective psychology, 2020). Thus, to put it into context — my previous beliefs centered around “bridge building,” which included having hard discussions with White people about race. In fact, I thought it was a call, my duty. However, these discussions came at a rather expensive cost. As I alluded to earlier, these type of conversations almost always involved risking re-injury, re-opening of old and fresh wounds, and at times, often re-traumatization.
Specifically, I cannot count how many times I have allowed myself to engage in what I perceived to be a trusting conversation about race with a White person and left feeling an oscillation of negative emotions. Admittedly, in my ‘Captain-save-humanity’ days, rather than being led by past experiences, patterns, and self-preservation, my decision to engage was often led by a mixture of hope and naïveté.
The truth is, I would often walk into a conversation only to realize it was a land mine and the bombs were laced with poorly disguised Whataboutisms. You see, over time, it became clear that the tu quoque argument was rooted in reluctance to entertain at least a momentary paradigm shift. To abandon one’s current state for the sake of understanding is to put oneself in someone else’s shoes based on the other person’s context. However, this has never been a needed practice for the majority culture. White people never had to feel what we feel, but more so had social and economic interests to keep their strongly held beliefs intact.
So what does this mean? Empathy has never been invited to the table. Thus, expecting it when it comes to understanding the Black struggle is foolish on my part. Now, do not misunderstand me. I do not need White people’s empathy—hence, why my boundaries are about to be protected like a fresh press n’ curl from the rain. The message here is that I’m hurting. Black people are hurting. Paralyzed by generation after generation of racial trauma. Indescribably exhausted. Understandably enraged and angry. Is there a change comin’ soon? Probably not. (No, I will not apologize for my pessimism). So if I’m gonna be in this fight for the long haul, some changes (that I can control) need to be made. Thus, the lighting of gasses, whatabouteries, and blindly tip toe-in’ into emotional land mines is OVER. I’m on Injured Reserve. ’Captain-tryin’-to-be-a-bridge-builder’ has packed up her cape and left the building.
At least for now.
To be honest, this started off as a cathartic exercise. However, my hope is that I have lent a voice to my Black brothers and sisters (side note: if you are mentally attempting to ‘All Lives Matter’ me after I specifically said my ‘BLACK’ brothers and sisters—please refer back to the PSA gif above). Yes, I admittedly want this writing to serve as a bullhorn for expressing my deep hurt from said people, but more importantly, my hope is to give a voice to my Black family that are too hurt, too wounded, too exhausted, or too (understandably) angry to articulate their oscillating emotions.
To my White ally’s, you know who you are—we’ve talked deeply, compassionately, and honestly. We’ve prayed together, we’ve cried together, and lamented together. I appreciate you, and I thank you for the space, love, humility, and openness to understand.
However, if you find yourself making excuses while reading this, and are “over” talking about “something that happened years ago,” dismissing, minimizing, beating your chest while exercising exceptionalism (i.e. pointing outward, claiming your family or your country isn’t “like that”), or flat out rejecting my said experiences…then you are that White person that I’m talking away from. Sure, depending on the day, we can talk about things like the weather, favorite foods, sports, how tall our kids are getting…you know, the ‘I Hate small talk-small talk 101’ type stuff. But just know that I have a finely tuned ‘Whitesplain-o-meter’ that detects when my healing is being interrupted. Thus, you may want to tread lightly.
