don't call me a racist

Recently, my French class was assigned to read an excerpt from "La Contagion" by Albert Camus. In his piece, published in 1947, Camus writes in response to the severe incrimination facing several leaders involved in Madagascar's movement for independence from French colonial rule. Camus asserts that racism is the definitive factor in these leaders' persecution and prosecution. He further proclaims that France's inhumane treatment of the people of Madagascar is based deeply in enculturated racism, which he claims is the "crippling illness of France."

When I learned that my class would be reading Camus's essay on race, I was very eager to hear how the post- reading discussion would play out. As one of the few students of color at my predominantly white and wealthy independent school, I have observed first-hand how the veil of white privilege shroud's my classmates' perception of American racialized society. Even though my school is making integritous efforts to put topics like race and ethnicity as a part of curriculum, the "race talk" is still one that is dreaded, well avoided, or set aside to an annual "Diversity Day." Yet no matter where or when it is conducted, the "race talk" is often controversial, uncomfortable, offensive, and potentially hurtful. In my experience, the whites in the conversation feel pressured into being burdened with guilt that they feel they have no responsibility to bear, while the people of color seem like angry, bitter victims of an unmerciful world. One side of the room wants the other to stop playing the "race card" and get over it, while the other side wants them to get "it."

After my teacher drilled the entire class in an aloud recitation of words like la discrimination, le chauvinisme, la justice, and la ségregation, she posed her first question to us: "Can anyone speak about a time when they have experienced racism?" The dead silence that I expected saturated the room. Pens clicked in a discordant chorus and students turned pages in their notebooks. As the only student of color in my class who is also known for having an interest in social justice, I knew it was expected of me to begin the discussion by recounting tearful and dramatic tales of injustice and discrimination in my life. And to be quiet honest, I do have an inventory of experiences with racism. But for this particular conversation, I chose to remain in the background in order to see what my white classmates had to say about this topic.

In an attempt to incite some discussion, my teacher slowly began, "Well... I think that all of us are somewhat racist." After she said this, the tension that had once stifled the room almost immediately melted away and my once terse classmates suddenly busted out with loud exaltations of "Yes!" and "I totally agree!" I was amused by how relaxed the class had become. While my classmates and teacher bonded over their belief that all humans share so-called "racist" tendencies, I could no longer restrain myself. My hand shot up in the air. "I would have to completely disagree because as a person of color, I cannot be a racist." And as I expected, the communal enthusiasm of my classmates suddenly turned harshly against me. They accused me of being self-righteous goody-two-shoes that was trying to make herself seem like the embodiment of all that is just and moral. But that was not my intent. What I was trying to do was inform my class about the real definition of racism- one that does not limit it to random acts of bias, but instead acknowledges it as a larger system of oppression that plagues the United States.

The way that most of us have been taught to understand racism is completely incorrect; it is narrow, superficial, and is essentially a function of the institutionalized white supremacist societal structure that continues pervade American life. Current law has mandated the definition of racism as individual acts of prejudice; overt and bigoted behavior that a person exhibits towards someone's racial/ethnic group. In turn, the words racism and prejudice (a hostile attitude toward someone based on his or her race) have become interchangeable. The Supreme Court adheres to this definition of racism when deciding racial discrimination cases. In order for plaintiffs to prove that they were victims of racial injustice, they must show that the perpetrator in question had "invidious intent…and specific discriminatory purpose or malice." Therefore, persons trying to claim racial discrimination must meet very high standards that are usually very difficult to prove. The Supreme Court's definition of racism as individual acts of bias has become the racial law of the land. This definition not only over-simplifies the impact that racial stratification has had on American life, but it also naturalizes the harsh realities of race-based subordination.

I can recall shouting "Racist" at the top of my lungs in fifth grade after an African American classmate of mine called me a "spic." An extremely hurtful and cruel comment? Yes. But a racist comment? Absolutely not. In school, we are taught about the Jim Crow Apartheid as being a shameful point in American history because it classified human beings based on the color of their skin and not on the content of their character. Through this understanding, racism in our minds has no connection to a larger system of oppression that continues to marginalize people of color in the United States. Although colorized classification was the base feature of segregation, it is often proclaimed as the defining and sole feature. In actuality, the cruelest aspect of segregation was that it used prejudiced ideology to oppress and subordinate Black people and deny them economic, educational, and political power. According to CUNY law professor and civil rights icon Ron Daniels, racism "relates to the power and capacity to translate prejudices and attitudes of superiority into practice, custom, policy, or law." After learning about this definition, I can see why most of us have been taught other wise. This definition of racism exposes the American institution of white superiority to a greater society that is preoccupied with "whitewashing" race and making the world color blind. The overt prejudice acts that we have grown to see as synonymous with racism are definitely a piece of the larger institution; the "subordinate" group internalizes inferiority complexes about themselves that spurs cultural aggression and low self-esteem. But racism goes far beyond a person calling a Black person a "nigger" or a Hispanic person a "spic." The harsh reality is that the group in power (white people), has the ability to act on their prejudiced ideas in order to hijack educational and economic opportunities for themselves. Since people of color in the United States do not have the societal ascendancy to thwart white societal advancement, we cannot be racist in the semantic sense. Granted, as human beings we do have the potential to be chauvinistic, prejudice, and plain-out mean towards other racial groups. But the grim reality of a racialized society is that as people of color, we cannot translate our bigoted ideas to oppress white people or each other for that matter. My French teacher's attempt to break the ice in our awkward class discussion by stating that everyone is "somewhat racist" is incorrect because she included me, a Puerto Rican person, within the scope of that claim.

The fact that my white classmates could not think of a time when they experienced racism IS a direct example of racism. As white people, they are the norm which makes them invisible and colorless. As the group in power, they are privileged to not have to see color. Yet on the other hand, race plays a major role in the every day lives of people of color because our racial/ethnic identity plays a fundamental role in our access to opportunity, success, and justice.

So in fifth grade, when I called my classmate a racist for calling me a spic, I was actually making an oxymoronic statement. As an African American living in a highly racialized society, she does not have the power to oppress other people of color like myself or white people. Though she was successful in hurting my feelings, she did nothing to impinge on my access to a quality education or a well paying job.

In order to exonerate white people from guilt and not acknowledge their privilege in American society, we are taught to believe that all of us, including people of color, have the same potential to oppress each other from receiving the full benefits of American ideals. This is simply empirically and conceptually flawed. By limiting the definition of racism to random acts of prejudice, we trivialize the strife that people of color historically and currently face. Racism is made to seem like "some big mistake," some random occurrence that has no plan and is just the natural order of things. Yet since race itself is a societal construct, the idea of one group of people being racially superior over another is no random occurrence. Since the genocide of this continent's native people, racial prejudice has been institutionalized so that white people can maintain their hold on privilege, status, and power. By neglecting the true reality of racism, the United States will be unable to clean up the residue that hundreds of years of de jure discrimination has left on this country. In addressing racism as a systemic institution of white privilege, we will be able to address the alarming inequality that is in education, income, housing, and health care. So please, don't call me a racist. You're just wrong.