I originally wrote this last weekend, editing was real!
I'm not going to lie, I've been scared of this post. I started writing it a few times over the years, never finishing because I was too scared. Yes, me, the white girl talking about racism... "scared". What did I have to be scared of? Judgements, being misunderstood, getting in trouble over saying something "wrong" and potentially STILL being too engulfed in my privilege that I am speaking from a place that simply is not good enough. As of this week, I of course realize that the fact I always had a choice whether I want to chime in is the very essence of the problem. Because I don't HAVE a problem. I can, and did, reflect on myself quietly over years, but never talking about it in fear of repercussions. And although this is just a personal account of a white girl's experience, I want to use it as my personal check-in - and mostly, as an apology and vow to be better.
When Camila Cabello or Justin Trudeau got in trouble over the N-word and blackface over the last couple years, I was scared. I knew, even then, already, both of these things are absolutely unacceptable but knew one could find that in my past. As a child, we would dress up at church as the Three Kings for Christmas to raise money for starving children, and whoever "got to be" Melchior was getting painted in the face with soot. To describe Melchior, the N-word was colloquially used, it was a word like all the others. One of the candies we ate was called N***kiss, that was the actual name of the candy. What I'm saying here is that, I believe, I was actually taught to see differences in skin color. And these examples are just from my childhood when you could argue I couldn't have known better. In reality though, I see how it set me up for my later bias. And later in life, I don't have the "excuse" of childhood. I am responsible.
Fast forwarding, in my early 20s I was 100% of the opinion that I am not racist (I never consciously was) because my best friend was a black man from Angola. The fact he was my best friend and we never really talked about race and his experiences as a black man alone shows how badly I did here. My next step was to go teach in Kenia for a summer in college to learn more about racism by being the white person surrounded by black people. I am deeply ashamed of thinking that and would like to apologize for it although I never even told anyone. I was aware of being wealthy and white and thought going to teach in the slums of Africa would be a good experience for ME. I wanted it to be something that helps people, for someone else to benefit from how unfairly advantaged I was in life. Ouch, I cringe even writing it, and although I am reflecting now I feel uncomfortable for ever thinking that way. Talk about white saviours huh, I'm so ashamed of that. I thought I was doing good.
I arrived in Kenia and instantly made the experience so many white people have described as racism: I was suddenly in the "minority" by number, but at no point was I actually the minority. In Swahili, the word for "white person" is literally "rich white person", because the two adjectives "white" and "rich" are intertwined in reality there. My first response was that it was unfair because, of course, I was not "rich" in my experience of the word. In fact, where I was from I was anything but. I soon realized that I was rich. Took just a few minutes really. People were often touching my hair, stroking my face and almost always asking for something. I felt bad about it. I got harassed and coerced out of money a lot while I was in Nakuru, even right in front of the police, and when I asked for help they would say "poor you, what are you going to do?". At no point, and let me repeat it, never, was I actually in danger or felt any feeling but one we can today safely describe by saying "boo-fucking-hoo!". I was 21 and overwhelmed with the situation, nothing more. As the "Muzungu" I was, after the summer I just got onto a plane and it was over. Lucky me! That right there is why I will NEVER understand!
In Germany, and arguable other parts of the world I lived, it isn't even the racism against black people that is something I don't want to accept. And I see what people are saying about their perception that "Black Lives Matter" feels exclusive because if doesn't mention all the "others" but that, in my opinion, is just one of the things that needs to be addressed and rethought: Just because we are checking in on our racism now doesn't mean it's the only thing we have to address. From my little perspective, it is a start in conversation. And these conversations have now started, more so than before at least. I caught myself remembering how I changed the topic often when racism came up in conversation because I could feel that the people I was calling out were getting mad at me. I caught myself remembering how I myself claimed I wasn't racist. Racism doesn't mean one hates black people; it just means you exercised behaviour towards a person of color that differed from the one you would direct towards white people. And I have done that.
Soon, my family will greet its first member of color. One of the most important people in my entire life is going to be a person of African-American descent, and I fucking owe him to work so much harder. I owe him to do everything I can to make sure he has the same chances I had growing up because there is no logical or sensible explanation why it would be any other way. But I am not addressing racism because I have family members of color; I want to address it because it is wrong. It makes no sense. We've all made a collective mistake over the last few centuries believing in something we accepted as status quo that should never have been there, and I hope this time reminds us that racism isn't the only thing that applies to.
I for one want to apologize. I don't want to wait until I am famous and me singing along to 90s rap songs surfaces to which I then show a reaction. I know this stuff exists and I know I have acted in ignorance and perceived superiority. I want to express my regret over how I have treated people of color, people of different religion (damn, this is gonna be a post one day, my ignorance as a teenage church kid is a whole other story but I promise I'll get there) and just overall people who are different from me. I don't want to make excuses, blame problematic structures for my own bias; I should have realized sooner that things I was doing were wrong. It shouldn't take people telling me, it should be an innate questioning of your own behaviour. And I am probably still doing things I haven't even spotted that are unjust. I promise to listen and not get upset when I am getting called out; in fact, I invite a call out. I want to be part of progress, always, and as a white person who can never understand, I vow to at least stand. At least.
I'm not going to lie, I've been scared of this post. I started writing it a few times over the years, never finishing because I was too scared. Yes, me, the white girl talking about racism... "scared". What did I have to be scared of? Judgements, being misunderstood, getting in trouble over saying something "wrong" and potentially STILL being too engulfed in my privilege that I am speaking from a place that simply is not good enough. As of this week, I of course realize that the fact I always had a choice whether I want to chime in is the very essence of the problem. Because I don't HAVE a problem. I can, and did, reflect on myself quietly over years, but never talking about it in fear of repercussions. And although this is just a personal account of a white girl's experience, I want to use it as my personal check-in - and mostly, as an apology and vow to be better.
When Camila Cabello or Justin Trudeau got in trouble over the N-word and blackface over the last couple years, I was scared. I knew, even then, already, both of these things are absolutely unacceptable but knew one could find that in my past. As a child, we would dress up at church as the Three Kings for Christmas to raise money for starving children, and whoever "got to be" Melchior was getting painted in the face with soot. To describe Melchior, the N-word was colloquially used, it was a word like all the others. One of the candies we ate was called N***kiss, that was the actual name of the candy. What I'm saying here is that, I believe, I was actually taught to see differences in skin color. And these examples are just from my childhood when you could argue I couldn't have known better. In reality though, I see how it set me up for my later bias. And later in life, I don't have the "excuse" of childhood. I am responsible.
Fast forwarding, in my early 20s I was 100% of the opinion that I am not racist (I never consciously was) because my best friend was a black man from Angola. The fact he was my best friend and we never really talked about race and his experiences as a black man alone shows how badly I did here. My next step was to go teach in Kenia for a summer in college to learn more about racism by being the white person surrounded by black people. I am deeply ashamed of thinking that and would like to apologize for it although I never even told anyone. I was aware of being wealthy and white and thought going to teach in the slums of Africa would be a good experience for ME. I wanted it to be something that helps people, for someone else to benefit from how unfairly advantaged I was in life. Ouch, I cringe even writing it, and although I am reflecting now I feel uncomfortable for ever thinking that way. Talk about white saviours huh, I'm so ashamed of that. I thought I was doing good.
I arrived in Kenia and instantly made the experience so many white people have described as racism: I was suddenly in the "minority" by number, but at no point was I actually the minority. In Swahili, the word for "white person" is literally "rich white person", because the two adjectives "white" and "rich" are intertwined in reality there. My first response was that it was unfair because, of course, I was not "rich" in my experience of the word. In fact, where I was from I was anything but. I soon realized that I was rich. Took just a few minutes really. People were often touching my hair, stroking my face and almost always asking for something. I felt bad about it. I got harassed and coerced out of money a lot while I was in Nakuru, even right in front of the police, and when I asked for help they would say "poor you, what are you going to do?". At no point, and let me repeat it, never, was I actually in danger or felt any feeling but one we can today safely describe by saying "boo-fucking-hoo!". I was 21 and overwhelmed with the situation, nothing more. As the "Muzungu" I was, after the summer I just got onto a plane and it was over. Lucky me! That right there is why I will NEVER understand!
In Germany, and arguable other parts of the world I lived, it isn't even the racism against black people that is something I don't want to accept. And I see what people are saying about their perception that "Black Lives Matter" feels exclusive because if doesn't mention all the "others" but that, in my opinion, is just one of the things that needs to be addressed and rethought: Just because we are checking in on our racism now doesn't mean it's the only thing we have to address. From my little perspective, it is a start in conversation. And these conversations have now started, more so than before at least. I caught myself remembering how I changed the topic often when racism came up in conversation because I could feel that the people I was calling out were getting mad at me. I caught myself remembering how I myself claimed I wasn't racist. Racism doesn't mean one hates black people; it just means you exercised behaviour towards a person of color that differed from the one you would direct towards white people. And I have done that.
Soon, my family will greet its first member of color. One of the most important people in my entire life is going to be a person of African-American descent, and I fucking owe him to work so much harder. I owe him to do everything I can to make sure he has the same chances I had growing up because there is no logical or sensible explanation why it would be any other way. But I am not addressing racism because I have family members of color; I want to address it because it is wrong. It makes no sense. We've all made a collective mistake over the last few centuries believing in something we accepted as status quo that should never have been there, and I hope this time reminds us that racism isn't the only thing that applies to.
I for one want to apologize. I don't want to wait until I am famous and me singing along to 90s rap songs surfaces to which I then show a reaction. I know this stuff exists and I know I have acted in ignorance and perceived superiority. I want to express my regret over how I have treated people of color, people of different religion (damn, this is gonna be a post one day, my ignorance as a teenage church kid is a whole other story but I promise I'll get there) and just overall people who are different from me. I don't want to make excuses, blame problematic structures for my own bias; I should have realized sooner that things I was doing were wrong. It shouldn't take people telling me, it should be an innate questioning of your own behaviour. And I am probably still doing things I haven't even spotted that are unjust. I promise to listen and not get upset when I am getting called out; in fact, I invite a call out. I want to be part of progress, always, and as a white person who can never understand, I vow to at least stand. At least.
