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In the recent sociological blog debate on racism versus the supposed dawn of “post-racism” in America, we often touched on problems that make talking about racism difficult, if not entirely impossible. In addition to institutional constraints, there are interpersonal factors that can derail meaningful conversations about race and racism. In addition to calling attention to these barriers, it is important to make explicit that too few people take on this difficult task.
Responsibility For (Anti-)Racism
In general, too few people consistently assume responsibility for talking about race and racism, and fighting racism more broadly. That kind of work is presumed to be taken on by activists and leaders of social movements. But, in particular, the responsibility generally falls in the laps of those victimized by it — in this case, people of color. As Jason noted in his contribution to the “post-racism” blog debate, racial and ethnic minorities generally face this burden alone.
But, people of color are neither alone in this racist society nor the creators of this system of oppression. Whites are implicated by virtue of the benefits they receive (i.e., white privilege) from the historical legacy of racism, as well as today. Eliminating racism, then, is just as much their responsibility, if not more, as it is for people of color.
As I re-watched a few of ABC’s “What Would You Do” social experiments regarding race and racism, I was reminded just how problematic America’s sense of responsibility for racism and anti-racism are. While too few whites intervene when they witness racist discrimination in stores against (innocent) people of color, many seem quick to intervene to sanction Black people’s criminal behavior but not that of whites (see part 1 and part 2). (Three young Black men sleeping in their own car got more calls to 911 than did three young white men vandalizing and breaking into someone else’s car.)
A Personal Anecdote
Racist events are plentiful, from small slights to extreme forms of violence. So, there are too many missed opportunities to confront racism, or at least learn from these events to do things differently in the future. One such event stands out in my own life.
At the start of my second semester of graduate school, my cohort and I sat through the beginning of our training and preparation to carry out a telephone survey on social attitudes that summer. In talking through concerns for the project, whether we as interviewers “talk black” was posed as a potential bias in our interviews. It felt as though as though a grenade had gone off right in the middle of class, but we continued on ignoring it. I thought, “was I the only one who heard that?”
This event only became an issue when my colleagues of color and I were overheard joking about the racist comment the following week. That was brought to the attention of the professor who, out of concern, asked us whether and how to “handle” this. Three weeks later, we finally devoted an entire two-hour class to discussing the comment about “talking black” — a phrase the professor wrote explicitly on the board to facilitate our conversation.
Of course, five minutes that felt like an eternity passed before anyone broke the thick silence that suffocated the room — it was me, naturally, in which I called attention to that deafening silence. As the tense conversation carried on, my cohort was divided, with the students of color and anti-racist white students taking issue with the concern about “talking black,” and the rest remaining silent, or speaking up to say they did not see a problem or even recast the comment in their head so that it was not problematic.
The conversation boiled down to whether the commenter said “talking black” or talking black, where the quotation marks became the symbolic boundary between belief that there is a(n inferior) style of English unique to Black Americans and the knowledge that others believe that (but not believing it oneself). Only a racist person would forgo the quotation marks, for this would reflect their own beliefs.
With the conversation ending with a half-ass apology from the commenter, that one’s upbringing in the Midwest should suffice as an excuse for one’s racist prejudice, we left the room more divided than ever before. The rest of our department remained curious bystanders, but nothing more came of these events outside of the efforts of students of color to challenge racism in the department and university.
To add insult to injury, later in the semester, my colleagues of color and I overheard some of our classmates complain about the ongoing divisiveness, placing blame on us for not having gotten “over it” yet. Their simultaneous lack of understanding and lack of sympathy only further fueled the division. I am happy to say that a great deal has been forgiven, but one can never forget such events. But, sadly, because little came of it, we saw yet another racist event occur years later.
A Call For Bystander Intervention
I, as others before me, call for a bystander intervention approach to ending racism. Too often, individuals not directly involved in a dangerous or difficult scenario — or bystanders — simply stand-by and watch without intervening to provide help. As such, in the case of the prevention of sexual violence (since this “bystander effect” was coined after no one intervened in the brutal rape and murder of Kitty Genovese), advocates have strongly emphasized the need to turn bystanders into potential interveners – “bystander intervention.” Applied to racism, this means that individuals are called to action to intervene if they witness racist discrimination, bullying, or violence.
However, I push this anti-racist bystander intervention one step further beyond intervening in difficult situations. Similar to my calls for bystander intervention to prevent sexual violence (i.e., rape, sexual assault, sexual harassment), I stress that our anti-racist work must include a sense that racism is a community issue and, as such, anti-racism is a community responsibility.
Ways To Intervene
A related aspect is noting that racism exists at multiple levels and, as such, there are an infinite number of ways in which we can fight it:
- One can intervene when they witness racist discrimination or harassment. Of course, this depends upon a number of factors that make this easier said than done. And, no one should intervene in ways that place them at risk for getting hurt. If it is a scenario of extreme violence, like a racially-motivated hate crime, a safe means of intervening may be to call the police. If it is an instance of the unfair firing of a Latina coworker, you could approach your supervisor to note that you feel your coworker deserves a second chance.
- Challenge racist prejudice. This can entail calling people out who appear to harbor prejudice toward people of color, or hold misguided stereotypes. It also means calling out offensive comments that others’ may make about racial and ethnic minorities.
- Challenge yourself. No matter one’s racial or ethnic background, and one’s racial ideology, no one is immune to the pervasive poison of racism. It is important to also check your own biases and actions. Do you seek out friends of the same race? Do you avoid “that part of town”? Do you do certain things, at least in part, to avoid appearing racist?
- Educate yourself. Unfortunately, most Americans leave formal education knowing little about racism and the history and experiences of people of color beyond obligatory coverage during Black History Month. To push beyond this, one can take the time to learn more (even from March to January). Read books about and by people of color. Go see films on historical and contemporary accounts of the lives of racial and ethnic minorities. Visit museums that feature exhibits on race and ethnicity. Become comfortable talking about race and racism with the people around you, no matter their race and ethnicity.
- Support victims of racist prejudice, discrimination, and violence. As I wrote the first suggestion, I realized that there are so many concerns that one may have in directly challenging racist actions. But, there are fewer concerns regarding harm in supporting victims of these actions. Though your supervisor who unfairly fired your Latina coworker very well could threaten you, as well, you are freer to reach out to your coworker. See if she wants to talk, needs help finding a new job, or even filing a discrimination or EEO complaint. Even outside of severe instances of racist acts, you can be a supportive ally by really hearing people out when they reveal their experiences to you (rather than blaming them or encouraging them to think of alternative reasons for those acts).
- Challenge racist practices of organizations and institutions. Though the days of overt racist laws and policies are mostly gone, there are still many — albeit neutral in intention and language — that disproportionately harm people of color. It is important to challenge these, just as it is to challenge racism at the individual-level. Maybe you can speak up if your workplace implements a dress-code policy that unfairly targets racial and ethnic minorities. Take action to prevent the efforts to repeal Affirmative Action and other policies that aim to redress racial inequality. Educate yourself and others about how new policies or policy change can contribute to racial equality, even if they are not targeted solely toward people of color (e.g., Affordable Care Act).
Obviously, everyone cannot become leaders of social movements like Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. or lead deadly anti-racist efforts like abolitionist John Brown or the slain Mississippi civil rights workers. Most of us are not lifelong activists.
But, there are many opportunities throughout a given day to make a difference, no matter how small. For, even small acts add up to a big contribution to challenge prejudice and stereotypes, educate oneself and others, end racist discrimination and violence, and promote racial diversity and equality. Just as we are all implicated in racism, it will take all of us to end it.
The title of this post sums up the position that many have taken in efforts to prevent sexual violence (e.g., rape, sexual assault, incest, stalking, sexual harassment) and to support survivors of violence. Such a stance goes against two problematic positions, one hostile and one supportive to survivors of violence.
- Hostile Victim-Blaming: Unfortunately, many people lay blame for sexual violence in the hands of victims of violence themselves. Violent acts, such as sexual assault, are seen as incidents that are preventable simply by changing one’s behavior, interactions with others, appearance, and mentality. First, survivors of violence, especially women, face the dilemma of providing proof that they have been victimized. Second, if they are believed, they must provide enough evidence to convince others that such violence was not somehow the result of being sexually promiscuous, dressing in revealing clothing, giving “mixed signals” in interactions (sexual and non-sexual) with one’s attacker, drinking too much, and so forth.
- Supportive Victim-Blaming: Indeed, many are concerned with eliminating sexual violence for good. But, efforts to prevent violence, like the above, center on the victims of violence themselves. As an online op-ed at Ebony magazine points out, too much sexual violence prevention work provides potential and past victims of violence suggestions to protect themselves: don’t walk alone at night in unfamiliar places, tell a friend where you are going, watch your drinks at parties, don’t go home with strangers. While this position differs from the above in its concern for survivors of violence, it too lays responsibility for sexual violence on the victims themselves.
Sexual Violence As A Social Problem
With estimates denoting that 17-25 percent of women and 3 percent of men are survivors of violence (experiencing sexual violence at least once in their lifetimes), it is undeniable that a substantial portion of the US population is directly or indirectly affected by violence. The numbers alone point to a larger, systemic problem that cannot be reduced to the individual motivations and actions of every instance of sexual violence. Yet, there are many other social factors that contribute to making sexual violence a standard component of our social world, as well.
- Myths and stereotypes: One barrier to acknowledging and addressing sexual violence and supporting victims of violence is the inaccurate, and sometimes offensive, “information” that pervades our culture regarding gender, sex, sexuality, and violence. Sexual violence myths include assuming all victims are women, attacked by a lone stranger (a man) in a ski mask lurking in the bushes. But, stereotypes outside of sexual violence also contribute to a false understanding of sexual violence: men with uncontrollable sexual appetites (“they can’t help themselves“), women who have or should have little interest in sex, strong and aggressive men and weak and passive women, LGBT people as sexual aggressors, etc.
- Exclusive focus on victims: Even in prevention advocacy and research, we place so much attention on survivors of violence — who are they, what happened to them, how many are there. Despite extreme underreporting of sexual violence because of stereotypes, the feeling that no one will believe you, fear of retaliation by one’s attacker, and so forth, we have some sense of the demographics of survivors of violence. But, we know little about perpetrators of sexual violence, with most information coming from reports about those who have been convicted of sexual violence. One important fact, surprising to some, is that most perpetrators of sexual violence are not men lurking in bushes at night, nor are they otherwise innocent men who got carried away once in sexual activity; perpetrators tend to be repeat offenders (of both sexual violence and non-sexual crimes) and often know the person they attack.
- Misplaced responsibility: Too often, potential and past victims of sexual violence are burdened with the responsibility for such violence and any efforts to prevent violence. We, as a society, generally fail to place such responsibility on the perpetrators of sexual violence. And, when we do, we narrowly focus on them, while ignoring others’ responsibilities to prevent sexual violence and to support survivors. Many advocates and researchers are beginning to promote the notion of bystander intervention, which calls upon others who witness violence to intervene. And, while we must push to never see another case where bystanders stand idly by as someone is attacked, our efforts to encourage bystander intervention also include promoting ways to change the culture that condones sexual violence: challenging gender stereotypes and gender socialization in general; teaching about sexual violence; teaching about sexual violence as expressions of sexism, racism, homophobia, classism, ageism, xenophobia, ableism, and so on.
- Exclusive focus on gender: Another barrier to comprehensively understanding sexual violence is focusing exclusively on the role of gender: men rape women. What is missing from this narrow analysis, besides overlooking male survivors of violence, is attention to the ways that sexual violence intersects with race and ethnicity, sexual identity, gender identity, class, body size and shape, age, nativity, and ability. Attending to these systems of oppression does not mean only documenting demographic characteristics of the survivors and perpetrators of violence. It also means assessing how sexual violence may operate as manifestations of these systems of power, for sexual violence itself is an expression of power over another person. For example, in many countries, lesbian, bisexual, and queer women are raped by men in an effort to “cure” them of their sexual orientation.
- Ignoring the role of society: Given the pervasive problem of sexual violence in society, many advocates and academics have argued for thinking about sexual violence more broadly. As noted above, we too often lay blame on individuals, especially survivors of violence, while ignoring the roles that communities, social institutions, and culture play. Some have pointed out that we live in a culture that normalizes sexual violence — we live in a “rape culture.” Various institutions, like colleges, the military, and the medical system, are implicated in their failure to prevent sexual violence, support survivors of violence, and punish perpetrators of violence. Some have argued that these institutions are structured in ways that make sexual violence invisible and potentially even promote violence.
Indeed, given the complexity and multiple layers and dimensions of the problem of sexual violence, it seems like a tall task to take on. But, in order to protect everyone from sexual violence and to support survivors of violence, we must address every aspect of the problem. We can no longer leave the responsibility to prevent sexual violence exclusively in the hands of potential and past victims of violence.