Collateral Damage
In war, collateral damage describes the unintended harm that is caused to those who are near the target of the attack. Racism is a lot like that. We, who are white, may not be the targets, but we are harmed. So when the question is asked, “How does racism hurt white people?” an answer, though not previously pondered, is easy to generate.
There are things that we know, but we don’t realize until someone asks the question. And then we say “Oh, yes …. “ The question “How does racism harm white people?” is such a question.
The most immediate thought may be of personal hurts, but there are so many layers of harm. The image I have of the impact on me is like an onion with the layers peeling back to the core of personal hurts. But we all function in a bigger context so are impacted by harm to the outer layers of the society and economy as a whole.
It seems counterintuitive to imagine that we white people are harmed by the prejudice against another group, but it takes just a moment to see the many ways. One glaring example is the justice system. The cost is economic, about $40,00 per year per prisoner. There is data in a recent report from the NAACP that supports the observation that racism hurts white people by overfilling our prisons. “The well-documented disparities in enforcement of our drug laws reveal that current drug policies impact some communities more than others. While Americans of all races and ethnicities use illegal drugs at a rate proportionate to their total population representation, African Americans are imprisoned for drug offenses at 13 times the rate of their white counterparts.”
Additionally there is a strong correlation between race and the use of smokable or crack cocaine. The sentencing for crack has been far more harsh than for the powdered form. The latter often landing someone in rehab rather than prison. And we, white people, along with everyone else pay.
Our tax bills remind us of the harm that racism does. Moreover, there are communities that border ours, where disparities in enforcement and sentencing result in a near absence of men and fathers. Many have been incarcerated for crimes that might results in probation in another kind of community. Without men and fathers youngsters may stray further. Again the cost is economic as well as to the heart of a community.
The layers go deeper to my work as a school psychologist and parent educator. This brings me into schools in all kinds of neighborhoods. I try to help the parents I train in the gated housing developments to see that there are no gates strong enough to protect their children from the children who have grown up in communities where racism has limited their opportunities. My work brings me into these places where the terrible intersection of poverty and racism is the toxic stew many of the youngsters I work with grow up in. I see potential in these children, but I know it will be hard to realize that potential. I, this white person, may be hurt by the absence of a great doctor, teacher or public servant one of those children could become. A few make it through, but some use those exceptions to judge the others. I am hurt economically, hurt when youngsters do not grow up to contribute to the community, and I am hurt personally from my attachment to these children. I try to help and do what I can, but there is a tall barrier that, even with my help, they cannot climb. So I stand with them sad at the bottom of this wall. I am hurt in seeing those I care for in a bad situation that I cannot change.
The next layer of personal is in my family. Unlike many families my extended family was not an obstacle to a mixed marriage. My husband had been a friend for years before we got married and so my family was aware of what a fine person he was. For my family the only wish was that my husband be a good person who would treat me well. They got their wish. Mine is a “no-drama” family and that approach applied to my marriage as well.
Another layer of this situation was not always so comfortable. As the wife in a racially mixed couple, over the last thirty years I have often been the only white person at various family and social events. While times have changed over the years, there have been several situations in which my presence was clearly not welcome. It was not just me; it was the symbol of me, the symbol of the “ oppressor.” And what’s more, I had done the unforgivable; I had “stolen” an eligible black man from the community. While the hurt I experienced was not deep, it was there.
Then to the deepest level, to the people I care most about, my husband and children. My husband is a successful man, a college teacher, a person of great stature and dignity, but it has always hurt to know of the childhood experiences and the indignities that he has dealt with.
In the course of our years together there have been small hurts as I have made plans for trips or vacations. I wondered if we would be welcomed at various places or would there be some awkwardness or insult. I wished that I could call places first and say, “Oh, by the way, are you going to have any trouble with a mixed couple?” A silly wish. It couldn’t happen. So instead I have sometimes made choices to not go certain places or take part in certain events. I might have been wrong, but I could not take the risk that something special would be ruined by a racist gesture or attitude. Though small, the hurt has been in the form of limits I placed upon us to protect us.
But perhaps the deepest hurt has come from situations my children have had to deal with. In my work with parents it is clear that we can endure many things, but we cannot endure seeing our children hurt. My husband and I taught our children, by word and example, not to see racism at the base of every insult or problem. I have seen, in my work and life, that the misperception of racism can be as limiting as racism. It is definitely better to miss an insult than to perceive one where it does not exist and to understand what is clearly racist is usually from ignorance and fear. In spite of this there were incidents that were hard to ignore.
Many youngsters of color have had the experience of driving while black. Our son has had a few of these. The most troubling occurred when he was a teenager parked in an upscale neighborhood in an old family station wagon getting correct directions to a party. Our son and two other boys of color were pulled from the car, handcuffed and pushed on to the curb without explanation. These three six footers were then pushed into the back of the police car. Our naïve son said, “Sure you can search the car.” He had nothing to hide, and was probably scared to death. He didn’t realize that one of his passengers had poured a few ounces of dad’s liquor into the water bottle in his gym bag. The anxiety and worry over that incident stretched on for months until the hearing where the police officer did not show. The hurt and worry were, for many months, consuming.
In spite of training our children to not perceive racism where it doesn’t exist, there were incidents. As racially mixed children, there were situations in which teachers had an agenda or maybe a worldview that did not include a child of color writing so well or being so capable.
Our daughter does not look back at her school experience with any clear memories of prejudice, but I believe, even at my most objective moments, that her shyness was often misperceived as a lack of ability. I wonder if she had been a white child would her strong abilities in math have been recognized and encouraged.
The hurt for what our children had to deal with reared it’s ugly head again last winter when my son went through a big paper purge and threw out lots of old school assignments. As I dumped the bags into recycling I came upon a wonderful little book he had done for history in middle school. He was to write about an historic event for each letter of the alphabet and illustrate it. I looked through with great appreciation for his lettering, the pictures, his fine descriptions, and beautiful penmanship. Then, on the last page, the grade, C- and the comment, “Nice illustrations, but those don’t seem like your words”. They were indeed his words, every one. The hurt of that year resurfaced – the hurt of my son being the “usual suspect”, and hearing from other parents that he got in trouble for things other kids got away with. I will never know for sure where the prejudice came from, but I know for sure how much it hurts to have someone you love misjudged or prejudged for whatever reason.
It is so important that all children have sources of feedback that are objective and valid. When they are not, the risk is that even the legitimate feedback might be ignored. It hurts to remember that year, and the hurt of wondering stays with me. I look back and wonder not just what I could have done, not just what might have been, but what was. Wondering is its own hurt.
So, I peel the layers back from the bigger society with cultural and economic problems caused by racism to knowing that in schools there are young people who could solve our health and energy problems if they were in a society where the color of their skin did not matter one bit. But it does and so we white people lose. The layers go to the children I’ve worked with and the harsh situations that they live in, where poverty and racism are intertwined.
The deepest layer is to my family. All families have their challenges and their joys, mine is no different. But all of us, whether we are close to someone of another race or not, need to operate from a place of enlightened self-interest. The end of racism will benefit all, white people as well as people of color.
From "Combined Destinies", ed. Ann Todd Jealous.
