A few weeks ago, I had dinner with some friends of mine. They're married and a little older than I am, but we've known each other for around 5 years or so. Without going into too much detail, in order to respect the anonymity of said persons, let it be known that they were at one point in positions of authority over me. Regardless, in case you haven't been paying attention to my beliefs as evidenced in my writings here, I hold a strong interest in radical politics. Certainly, I can talk all I want, but actions > words, so I'm still working on the activism part. Anyways, these friends of mine hold approximately the complete opposite of my system of beliefs, or so it seems at first entry into conversation.
A year ago, I debated with the male friend the merits of a women's studies degree. This time around, somehow President Obama and the BP oil spill came up. Eventually, the conversation turned to capitalism, profit, corruption, and general mistrust in government. Fascinatingly, we kept finding ourselves agreeing on several points, but for entirely different reasons. Before continuing, let me make clear that I still am not extremely well-read on current affairs, despite the fact that I am trying to keep better track of the latest in feminist, race-related, and social justice related events. An example of the apparent agreement between my friend and me was that the government eats up a lot of money which doesn't get put to effective use in solving society-wide problems. Yet my friend's viewpoint was to trace this problem back to our current president as an individual. The source of this opinion was not explicit or clear: a possible sign of white fear/mistrust in Obama as a man of mixed African ancestry, or mistrust in the Democratic party for its alleged endorsement of abortion, women's rights, GLBTQ rights, and other social justice causes. However, I don't see much of a drastic difference in treatment of social justice issues by either the Democratic or Republican party. That last sentence stems from my critical view of the two-party political system in the United States, but to delve into that is another long story...
In any case, my humble and not-fully-informed opinion is that the government's money problems (though let me repeat, I am far from well-informed on the minute details of federal spending) are hardly incidental but rather symptoms of the failure of capitalism, and of dependency on exploitative interpersonal relationships.
I. Dissent
At my small, predominantly white liberal arts college, I have found a political atmosphere often stiflingly monotonous, created by shallow allegiance to 'liberal' convictions by the student body as a whole. A new feminist friend of mine at the University of Minnesota has called the accompanying form of activism 'armchair activism', for such a title conveys the convenience and passivity with which students can engage in issues of social justice. My description here is not meant to be condescending nor condemnatory, but rather reflective, since I have been and often continue to be a part of these problems. Thus, I must also examine my own complicity in this form of shallow liberal politics -- to be a white student with economic privilege means I do not live these issues on an immediate level every day.
Despite the opposing paths from which my friend and I arrived at some similar conclusions throughout our discussion, the main focus of my post here is to examine the purpose and helpful nature of dialogue with other whites who hold opinions not matching our own variant of liberal. I (and others) have frequently noticed students -- including myself, I must admit -- dismissing less liberal perspectives as illogical, illegitimate, and unworthy of debate, except to ridicule the opponent's backwardness.* This lack of dissent is not only boring, it is also dangerous and unnatural. Of course, I am not advocating a massive (and frightening) invasion of foaming-at-the-mouth racist, sexist, classist, ablist homophobes. What I am arguing is that without a willingness for some of us (to be described below, anti-racist white allies) to at least hear out some differing opinions, we lose our ability to sharply defend and improve our own passion in social justice. In fact, we perpetuate the blind condemnation of which the Left often accuses the Right when we condescendingly dismiss others' thoughts and opinions, which are deeply tied to personal experience and circumstance. Nonetheless, I am not so naive as to think that my perspective is unaffected by my own social position. On the contrary, the two are inseparable.
II. Privilege
My tolerance of specific comments and suggestions made by my friend is very deeply and directly related to my own whiteness, just as his comfort and ability to utter same aforesaid remarks is inextricable from his whiteness. Privilege went almost exclusively unexamined on my friend's side during the talk; I do not write that in a self-righteous manner. Rather, I highlight this blindness in a manner reflective of my own growing awareness and observation of the aggressive omnipresence of whiteness as a colonizing force. I do not argue that people of color must continue to tolerate remarks and actions which are hurtful and which deny the validity of their experiences. As a white person with significant class and other privileges, it is simply a fact that I do not deal daily with many of the hardships and oppressive matters addressed in the conversation with my friend. I therefore reflect upon my position as an ally in discussions, so as not to distance myself from the seriousness of the matter, but also so as to maintain patience and compassion with white companions while constantly contemplating the real urgency of social justice.
III. Dialogue
What I have grown to find effective in discussions with other white folks of more conservative convictions -- or even those who consider themselves liberal but are uninformed about social inequalities -- is to let the other person speak without interruption. People become defensive if they feel attacked or accused; hence, maintenance of a respectful demeanor is key. However, respect frequently veers too far toward politeness and leads to neglect of responsible critical awareness and analysis. For these reasons it is necessary to both lend compassion to validate a person's experiences, thereby making them more likely to listen to you in your turn, while also being vigilant for ways to lovingly point out the deep-reaching, harmful influence of whiteness on all our everyday lives. Additionally, sharing stories of one's own gradual intellectual transformation helps the companion to see that alliance to social justice is a constant process of unlearning and reflecting, not something with which we are born. Unlearning through reflection is a key part of becoming a strong ally.
Admittedly, subsequent to the conversation with my friend, I felt that there had been no obvious progress or change in our convictions. I wondered what the purpose of such a conversation is or can be. Just as my friend commented that "I'll probably never change your mind", so also will I probably never fully remove him from his conservative opinions. I further contemplated what this discussion taught me about myself, others, and the way in which we relate to each other. My friend and I showed each other that we can hold a political discussion cordially, and be fruitful in that discussion. In the end I found it fruitful because we had established respect for one another as people with experiences, and through that respect, we were more willing to actively listen.
IV. Visions for the Future
Overall, I am concerned that at places like my liberal arts college, with a lack of diversity of thought, we become comfortably less attentive in our positions of alleged liberality or even true social radicalism. I am led to consider if some compromise in conversation is necessary for real change. (I will clarify what I mean by that shortly.) Does this make me less of an ally to historically oppressed groups? I still honestly believe in striving toward utopian ideals of social equality (I'm struggling with the word 'equality' for a variety of reasons), and also believe in the eradication of all massively oppressive systems. I am again led to consider the position which a white anti-racist can claim as an ally to historically underrepresented groups, especially people of color. Yet I also consider how to simultaneously use white privilege to undermine systems of oppression -- through allying oneself with the seed of hope for change in those of our white companions who have not yet begun to realize the terrible, distorted, and violent nature of our society. Namely, this violence stems from the systems of exploitation through which we have used power to create imbalance between ourselves and others.
Nevertheless, without any utopian hope in the possibility for change in other whites' attitudes, what can be our hopes for the creation of an anti-racist society? I do not say this to imply that whites must be 'saviors' of people of color. That would be a thoroughly condescending, egocentric, and racist position to occupy. On the contrary, what I mean to reflect upon is the fact that whites currently control a disproportionate amount of institutions and wealth in not only the USA but also the world. Therefore, transformation of attitudes among whites must happen. It is our responsibility as white anti-racist allies to keep the door open to dialogue with other whites, while still keeping strict vigilance for social justice.
Do you have any critiques or comments? I'm sure I could learn from any reflections you have, so please share, if you feel comfortable. All these thoughts expressed above are recycled from discussions with many activists and friends in the struggle for anti-racism and a world without oppression. Hence I claim no credit for originality; it is a collective and perpetually ongoing intellectual and emotional process.
*See my first blogpost, "Bad Dates, Classism, and Talking about Oppression", 21 March 2010.
