Dear Ms Understanding,
So, my friend and I got into an argument earlier today. I’m white and she’s black, and I was explaining how I think it’s upsetting that a lot of people of colour say it’s impossible to be racist towards white people, since “you can’t oppress the oppressor”. I feel like having a specific opinion on someone purely based on their skin colour is wrong, no matter who’s judging and who’s being judged.
But she was basically saying that white people were the ones who enslaved black people and so it makes sense that they’d hate them. But, again, I think that makes no sense, because we’re past that. I was telling her that I think we should remember those days, but move on from them and better ourselves because of it.
I don’t think I am, but am I actually being racist by saying that people of colour can be racist, too, and that racism towards white people is a thing?
Dear Argumentative,
My usual instinct with this column is to write from a place of empathy, and optimism. Writing is of course an act of profound faith. To write is to believe that someone else will read, and to imagine that in the act of reading, they may find value in a small piece of what you are offering.
Empathy also requires a kind of faith. To be empathic is to imagine the pain of another, and to offer them your humanity in return and it requires a profound belief in the power of connection.
But I will admit that this week, your letter finds me feeling depleted. Gaza is under siege, and its people are again being bombed at a scale that would be unimaginable if it were not happening right before our eyes.
This week, your letter finds me deeply saddened because in the city where I live, the news has been full of the story of a 16-year-old Aboriginal boy who died after officials in the detention centre where he had been incarcerated did not come to his assistance when he called out for help. For 13 minutes, after he first contacted them through the intercom to say that he had harmed himself, they did nothing and now, he is dead.
And I am mindful of the fact that this week, as you argued with your friend about whether racism towards white people is “a thing,” one of the dearest people in my life – who is black – has been fighting to keep her head up in the face of daily racist insults within an institution where she is supposed to feel safe.
All of this to say, that even as I try to find it within myself to directly answer your question, in the face of so much evidence that racism is alive and well and harming people of colour in many circumstances big and small in the world – I want you to reflect on how profoundly lacking in empathy the question itself is.
To write, “I think it’s upsetting that a lot of people of colour say it’s impossible to be racist towards white people, since “you can’t oppress the oppressor,” is to focus on your own feelings without making any comment on the idea of oppression which lies as the heart of the issue your friend is pointing to.
I am tempted not to address your questions because a quick search of the internet will show – as your friend pointed out – that racism is more than just prejudice in thought or action. Racism is the process by which systems and policies, actions and attitudes create unequal and inequitable opportunities and outcomes for people based on race. In short, Black people can be prejudiced, but as your friend pointed out, even when those antipathies are strongly held, Black people usually don’t have the social power to act on those feelings in ways that have an impact on the futures of white people.
What interests me is the fact that when you did not get the answer you wanted in the discussion with your friend, you went opinion-shopping and sought a different response from me, a Black woman far away from wherever you are.
I am sceptical about your capacity to faithfully summarise the points your friend made in your discussion. Did she really say, “white people were the ones who enslaved black people and so it makes sense that they’d hate them” or is that what you understood her to say? Sometimes, when we are confronted with a set of ideas we find challenging, we aren’t able to clearly articulate those ideas.
The question you are asking matters because it is a reminder that sometimes a question is not just a question. When it comes to race, white people often use questions in an attempt to appear innocent. I think it is easier for you to ask whether Black people can be racist, than it is for you to accept – based on casual observation and even the most cursory look at headlines – that racism is a pattern overwhelmingly favouring white people and disadvantaging Black and people of colour.
When it comes to race, questions can be a way of avoiding – rather than seeking – the truth. So, dear reader, I wonder whether your questions are aimed at avoiding the discomfort you feel when you think about history and collective responsibility. Instead of asking yourself why you feel uncomfortable, you are externalising the discomfort and asking your friend why she thinks what she thinks. Your questions are misdirected.
I would urge you to quiet yourself, and listen. You need not speak, or defend yourself or apologise, or feel awful. That is not necessary. Instead, my advice is for you to reflect on the idea that your questions may be a shield. Perhaps, it is time for you to lay down your weapons.
This week, for me, empathy looks like feeling for your poor friend who had to endure this conversation. Empathy looks like me recognising that the answers to your questions are readily available, and letting you know that perhaps they are distracting you – and me and your friend – from the real work of fighting oppression, and addressing the very present hurts that dominate so many people’s lives.
Empathy, this week, looks like letting you know that your focus and care are required in the world outside your own thoughts and feelings.
Good luck.
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Sisonke Msimang is a Guardian Australia columnist. She is the author of Always Another Country: A Memoir of Exile and Home (2017) and The Resurrection of Winnie Mandela (2018)
