The Search for Social Equilibrium
Part 1
Long ago, in a universe far, far away (well, in another state), I was privy to a conversation between a parent and a teacher. The white mom, late in bringing her child to class, was explaining to the African American teacher that she’d had a flat tire and this “nice Black man” had stopped to help her. My gut wrenched. The teacher’s facial expression changed, albeit subtly. The white woman was oblivious to having said anything offensive.
I hold that incident in my brain as a keen example of how insidiously racism permeates American culture. Often, in “white America” the terms “person” and “people” are presumed to mean “white people” unless otherwise specified. The inherent racism in this practice generally goes unchallenged.
During a recent interview on NPR’s Ozarks At Large, this phenomenon was mentioned by the interviewer, as was the comic relief of stereotypical Black characters in the films of his youth. He commented on how the frequency of this stereotype influenced whites’ perception of Blacks. The interviewee flipped that coin, and explained how, for Blacks, that stereotypical presence made a case for how Blacks need to act if they want to be safe in interracial society.
Hence, this theoretical comic relief was never benign. It influenced how both whites and Blacks perceived the notion of race.
The NPR radio conversation then turned to the continued struggle for racial justice, and how “whites and Jews,” among others, are a necessary part of the battle to secure racial equality. My gut wrenched slightly. I had questions. I needed to talk to my white daughter—who is converting to Judaism—about whether or not these two classifications of people were, in fact, mutually exclusive. Or was this a case of saying “people” (meaning white, non-Jewish people) vs. “Jewish people?”
So, my daughter and I got to talking about the history of Jews, from whence they originally came, and how their skin and hair might have differed from “white” skin and hair, but how most of the Jews we now know are, in fact, “white.”
Which led us to talking about how the term “white,” when used to define residents of the USA, began as something quite exclusive and gradually came to include more and more ethnicities and skin tones.
On the 2020 census, question #6 asked if the respondent is of “Hispanic, Latino or Spanish origin.” Question #7 asked for the respondent’s race, and gave the following choices: White, Black/African American, American Indian/Alaska Native, Chinese, Filipino, Asian Indian, Vietnamese, Korean, Japanese, Native Hawaiian, Samoan, Chamorro, Other Pacific Islander, or “Some other race” which one could specify by writing it in.
If you or your forebears are from Japan, Korea, or a few other places, your race and nationality are likely expected to be the same. But that’s apparently not so if you are Hispanic or Latinx.
According to the Pew Research Center, a majority of Hispanic respondents identified as “white” on the 2020 census. Yet in many aspects of daily living, Hispanics are considered “people of color.”
The concept of race clearly has its pitfalls. The definitions change over time and at any given moment the parameters are unclear. And while it’s good to understand cultural differences that might affect how we communicate with each other, does our society derive a benefit from slotting people into preconceived perceptions of race?
I am not a sociologist. Or a psychologist. Or even a government official determining how to create equity in job markets or college admissions. But I wonder—what if we ceased to label race at all?
To be continued…