You're white and you're white and you're white and you're white...
Provocation:
'White people think it is a compliment when they do not 'see' you as a Black person.' Morgan Jerkins
People frequently say to me 'Rebecca, I don't see your colour.' In the past I would have remained silent.
Now. I reply.
'Well. Yes. You do. It’s important, and okay, that you acknowledge my skin colour. If you say you don’t see it. It’s not true. If you are sighted – you do.’
Despite a lifelong hesitancy to remain silent in such instances, vocalising this response has led to an acknowledgement and appreciation of my point. In every case.
There is a word of thanks for the correction. And a verbal recognition that of course they actually do see colour.
This affirms the power and importance of speaking out.
I still do have the mental dilemma of whether to raise the race red card. Do you?
Because it is an emotive, oftentimes uncomfortable space. Conversations about race are challenging. Criticism can feel hurtful. Being corrected on the topic of race can create defensiveness.
And I never want to upset a nice lunch.
To combat my reticence, I have developed a series of personal ‘hacks’ that remind me why it is important to speak rather than not speak when faced with a micro-aggression or racially problematic situation.
If I don’t point this out now, then this person who is well-intentioned, and wants to have a conversation where they show allyship, will lose out in the long term. And so will we all.
The comment: ‘I don’t see colour,’ appears and in some instances probably is, well intentioned. It can seem a positive counter to racism. This is understandable given in the 20th Century we had colour bars and people were discriminated against based on their skin colour.
American comedian, Mark Normand brings clarity: I Don't See Colour
Until the Race Relations Act in 1968, it was common to see signs saying, ‘No Coloureds. No Irish. No Children.’ This short public information broadcast, Race Relations Board (1969)
appeals to a wonderfully British sense of ‘fair play,’ whilst illustrating stark social inequalities in Britain just over 50 years ago, that are at odds with how we might view or pride ourselves as a people.
As we became a more progressive and tolerant society, it makes sense the phrase, ‘I don’t see your colour,’ emerged. Because it feels inclusive. It seems to mean, at first impression, that as a Black or Brown person, you will not be discriminated against or treated differently because of your skin colour.
Over half a century later, with a more sophisticated collective understanding of race, it is clear the use of this statement as a signpost to say, ‘I’m not racist,’ or ‘I don’t have a problem with colour,’ is outdated and problematic.
It is:
A subtle manipulation sending a message to change the subject.
Self-congratulatory. I’m a ‘good’ white person.
A tactic to attempt to null and void or suppress/stifle conversations around racism and inequality.
A statement to convince the world of one’s non-racist credentials.
A statement that occupies the space where a discussion of race related issues could take place.
It’s a get out of jail free card. If a person claims they are ‘colourblind’ they have a reason not to challenge or tackle inequality.?
‘I plan to do absolutely nothing to combat racism,’ (because I can’t see it) Dana Brownlee
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Skin colour is a part of identity. It is important to recognise and acknowledge this or be in danger of denying a person their experience. By saying you don’t see part of someone, you deny them an element of their identity and potentially deny their experiences of racism. Or invalidate them.
Theresa Robinson, DEI & Anti-Racism Educator, says: ‘It’s incredibly insulting to be informed that an aspect of my identity will be treated as ‘unseen’ and ‘erasable.’
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See Difference.
Growing up I kept my experiences of racism and of being biracial a secret because I felt that the colour of my skin and theses experiences were somehow shameful because nobody talked about them.
White people around me hushed up any reference to skin colour when in my presence, or acted embarrassed so I took that to mean I needed to act as if I wasn't Black and as if these things were not happening to me. It is likely these people were doing little to address racism by suppressing the reality of its existence.
We all see colour and if when we say 'I don't see you as being Black' we are not being truthful because we do see. We may mean by saying this that we treat people the same regardless of colour and that if we all saw beyond the colour of people's skin, we would be able to put an end to racism.
‘I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the colour of their skin but by the content of their character.’ Martin Luther King?
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The comment sounds heartfelt and genuine. But it is a falsehood and a form of gaslighting to say that if we stop seeing race, racism will go away. By stopping seeing a person's race we invalidate them. We minimize their experience, deny their culture and their personal experience of the world. We also inhibit their voice and opportunity to express their lived experiences of racism.
Here is a lived experience from my early childhood that my mother shared with me recently and I am publishing thanks to her.
?It is experiences like this one that silenced me, and I remained silent until my adult years.
?I wasn't silent because I was angry at these people who raised me. I was silent because I could tell that they didn't have the wherewithal to understand my experiences and so I felt inclined to protect them lest they were hurt.?
In speaking to our children about race we give them the language and the voice to express their discoveries about their own and others' identities, and the capacity to understand, respect and embrace one another's differences.?
You're white and you're white and you're white and you're white...
I’ve got a picture in my head of Grandma’s garden in Ascot Crescent in Stevenage, of you and your little skipping rope, and a circle of adults standing around chatting.
We had bought you a tiny pink skipping rope from Mothercare, and we’d been trying to teach you how to skip. That day you picked up the rope all ready to show off, but you could only manage to swing the rope up over your head, then put it on the ground and jump on it.
You were very small, wearing a blue summer dress. Could this really have been before you were two? I don’t think Sophie was born.
You looked innocently up at each adult face in turn and announced loudly and clearly “You’re white and you’re white and you’re white and you’re white....”
There was an embarrassed silence until Grandma muttered something about white hair. It was OK to say “white” in the context of hair apparently, and the general hubbub of chat could resume. But to mention skin colour would mean they could no longer ‘politely’ ignore the fact that I had had a mixed-race baby.
To my everlasting regret I just let this pass. It was my opportunity to start the discussion with you - and the wider family too - on race, colour, discrimination, and prejudice. You hadn’t even started school, but you were already aware that people were white or black and that this was an important distinction. The good bit I remember about that day is that Great Grandad who was 80 at the time managed to deflect the conversation. He picked up the little skipping rope and amazed us with a dazzling display of skipping. He shrugged off our praises modestly saying “Well I had to get my exercise somehow during all those years at sea.
But my memory of the occasion is coloured by consciousness of my own failings as a mother. I never did get to talk to you about colour and race, so you would never feel able to confide in me about your experiences of racial prejudice when you were at school in Stevenage, Deeping St James and Buckingham, or ever since. Until now....?
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You can find me on Facebook: Rebecca Clark
Insta: Bexella
Watch:
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Read:
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Article: Dear White People
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The Mixed-Race Experience, Naomi and Natalie Evans
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Me and White Supremacy, Layla Said
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This Book is Anti-Racist, Tiffany Jewell
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Empireland by Sathnam Sanghera
Director of Finance
1 年Another great article. I guess we should all acknowledge our differences, but not label people based on those differences. The lazy human mind defaults to categorising people from appearances as part of a simplistic evolutionary response. After many millennia of language communication and diplomacy, one would hope we had moved on a bit, but clearly we are still on the first rung of the ladder.
Hospitality and Catering Professional
1 年Very interesting Rebecca….
Thank you for sharing this, Rebecca. It gives me a perspective on race, which I have never been a part of as a white male in Alpine Europe.
Founder & Director of The Lemon Tree House Artist's Residency, Artist, Writer, Childcare professional and All-Around Renaissance Woman
1 年Loved this. And I think this is the crux of it all: "Self-congratulatory. I’m a ‘good’ white person." I've struggled in the past with knowing how to approach equity in ways that aren't whitewashed full of exactly this. Because the tendency of well-meaning humans is often to decide that their systems are sufficient, for this pat on the back and escape from accountability. I've found for example that in not for profit work, the suggestion that certain community contribution jobs aren't appropriate for radicalized peoples (being told this by a white woman, specifically without being asked about my own heritage as I worked as a f/t nanny in Paris, France of all places) all kinds of hurtful. I found the list-making and trying to make POC categories of boxes to tick like that was was equity WAS specifically harmful and counter-productive to equity altogether. In fact, this made me very very angry and so when I was accused of being a racist on top of it, I stopped trying to explain myself at all. I find that discourse stops when these moves are asserted without discussion. I am grateful for your breakdown on all of these things today and your opinions in general. Thanks for sharing.