I have a confession to make. This is going to be hard because, in some ways I feel like a hypocrite for feeling this way and for holding it in for so long. Also? I know that feeling this way makes me no better than some of the folks I’ve called out and held accountable for prejudice. In the spirit of “open dialogue” and doing something, though, I’m sharing this.
I have a legitimate fear of white men and boys.
Not something you hear every day, huh?
This isn’t a theoretical, “because of what they did to my ancestors” fear. What I feel is a sense of discomfort and anxiety that comes when I’m in the presence of white men or boys that I don’t know. I’ve heard stories, and seen with my own eyes, White women moving their purse, or tensing up when Black men come around, and I have to tell you, I do the same with White men.
Not too long ago I was in a Starbucks and a tall, gangly teenaged boy came in. He had shaggy hair, and was wearing all black. He was carrying a big instrument case with maybe a bass or something in it. It didn’t help that he didn’t know what he wanted, so he stood away from the line, looking suspicious (to me) as he tried to figure out what to order. I couldn’t close up my computer, gather my things and get up out of there fast enough. All I could picture was him pulling a rifle out of that case and shooting the whole store up. Although I felt incredibly ashamed at my visceral (and physical—my heart was racing, my head was pounding) reaction, I still felt a little justified. I had a reason to be scared, no? It’s happened before, right?
I do the same thing when I’m coming up on a group of White boys on the street that I have to walk pass. My body automatically prepares to fight or flight. I don’t know if they’re going to bump into me (typically the middle school age group), or be so unaware of my being that they take up so much of the space on the sidewalk that I have to move to the side and wait for them to pass (usually the adults). It’s fear that keeps this big mouth Black woman from saying anything when that happens. Fear of the rude little White boy’s mama saying I attacked her child for even daring to say to him, “Hey, you bumped into me”. Fear of the White men calling me out of my name, or even worse, putting hands on me. Depending on their income level, connections, or the language they use when describing an altercation (“She was yelling and attacked me”–because every time a Black woman talks and it’s not a compliment, it’s an attack), I could be the one that ends up in jail.
I can admit that my discomfort around White men and boys is largely unwarranted. I’d say 96% of my whole life’s interactions with them have been positive. Even still, the fear is real. So, I get it. I do. I understand how some White folks could believe a trained (?), armed policemen could feel like a 5-year-old when face to face with a “hulk”, “beast” of a Black man. The images and portrayals of monster-like Black men have completely overshadowed the reality of the goodness that so many of our men and boys possess. I need to make it clear, though, that it goes both ways. Right now, Black mothers are crying for the future of their Black sons, but White moms, you need to be put on alert, too. The media has planted the seeds for a war against your boys, too, and it’s starting to take root. My somewhat baseless anxiety around your white sons is evidence of that.
So what do we do? How do we come together to save our boys, to save our children?
- First, we all have to admit our prejudices. You don’t have to publicly announce it, but at least be honest with yourself about what your prejudices are and where they stem from.
- Next, we have to listen. For example, after the tragic Sandy Hook massacre, I listened to mothers of children on the autism spectrum clear up misconceptions and misinformation that people were sharing in regards the the killer, his mother, and his mental state. Instead of saying, “this isn’t about you!”, I listened until I understood that they weren’t trying to make it about themselves and their situation, but they were protecting their children from stigma.
- Finally, we have to be open to changing. Many of us have grown up in the same belief system that we still hold today. Unless we’re willing to see things from another point of view, and be able to say, “You know what? I never thought of it like that”, it’s not likely that things will change in our lifetime.
What’s going on in our country affects everyone. Not just Black folks. We have to come together to make change.
Your fear is real and valid. Simple as that. Am I sad that you could potentially be fearful of my white son even though he has the biggest heart of any person I know? Yes. Do I understand why? A little more now.
yes. I want to come TOGETHER. because we all need to talk about it. It is a conversation that needs to happen and everyone needs to be involved.
I can say, honestly say, that I’m equally afraid of all men regardless of race. You come in a place with your face covered up and your hands in your pockets lookin all suspicious, I don’t care what you look like, you scare me. The same thing happened to me in Raleigh. A white teen came into Starbucks and he had a black hoodie on with super loose pants and he had his hands in the pocket of the hoodie. It was 80* outside. NO reason to be dressed like that. It scared the crap out of me. I just knew he was going to start shooting people and my life was over. I hate this whole thing for numerous reasons, but not the least of which is the fact that I feel lumped in with “white people”. My sons are going to be looked at as “white men”. Yep. They’re white. But they aren’t being raised to be assholes. They aren’t being raised to believe that they are better than anyone else. They aren’t being raised to think anyone owes them anything. My sons are being raised to be good men, strong men, smart men, respectful men. They are good boys. The fact that they are white doesn’t make them immediately discriminatory. I have literally shed tears over this issue the past year. I don’t cry over much but this has me crying tears. For my friends and their black husbands, for my friends black sons, and for my own sons. I hate to think people immediately think they are a certain way because they are pale. And as a white woman, it’s hard to know where to go or what to do. I would give my right arm to have been born any color other than white. I did not choose to be born white. I did not choose this life. I did not ask to be born into white privilege. But how can I help it? What can I do? I feel like I can’t have a voice in this conversation because I was born a certain way. I feel powerless in this entire fight. But what I want to do is wage war. I want to be loud and speak out against the discrimination that so clearly happens in this country. I want to come together as people, Americans, who love one another and want to fight for justice, no matter what color we are. I can’t have your experiences. I wish I could, I really do. But I have my own experiences. And I do have boys to bring to the table, and an honest, unyielding love for ALL people, for justice, and hopefully, some day, for peace. I love you, girl. I’m crying for you. Literally, right now. Shedding tears of pain. Just know I will fight this fight however I can from where I stand.
This! Just so much YES in this message. Thank you!
I really like this piece. Thank you for writing it.
Don’t feel like you are a hypocrite. Feel like you are a part of a group that includes everyone in the world doing the same thing. It’s conditioning brought on by experiences, media influence, and peer influence.
I’ll tell you a story about something that changed my underlying fears. I work in the “Most Dangerous Small City In Country”. Like, right in the heart, next to the lowest income housing. I park my car next to bullet casings, drug baggies, and abandoned police tape remnants flapping in the wind. I’ve had my windshield shot out by a stray bullet. I have lots of reasons to be afraid in this neighborhood – the least of which is that the majority of the residents, nearly 80%, are comprised of African Americans.
When I started taking walks around the neighborhood, people thought I was crazy. My co-worker encouraged me not to take these walks, especially not alone. People never came right out and said it, but the implications were obvious to me. But I ignored them and I walked. When I saw people, black people, I gave a polite wave and said hello. (I ignored the hell out of any white people though. they are dangerous. 😉 j/k) I got a lot of strange looks at first from residents. As the weeks went on, they got used to seeing me, and the looks began to fade away. The level of distrust had been palpable. More time passed and I refused to let my feelings of being an outsider prevent me from being the person that treats people equally and with kindness. People began to smile at me, ask me how I was doing, and even asked my name. Only once was I greeted with ugliness when I passed by a man who mumbled under his breath ‘you took a wrong turn, white bitch.’ I won’t kid you, it stung. But I just turned my head and said ‘Nice day for a walk, huh? Its so nice to be able to step away from work for a bit to get fresh air.’ The man’s entire demeanor changed. His face softened, he agreed, and he asked me where I worked, what do I do, he told me about his kids. I’ve been taking these walks for almost 10 years now.
So I guess my point is that I no longer have that underlying fear. I’m not stupid, I keep a healthy level of fear for people in general. But I don’t clutch my purse or move to the other side of the street or tense when I see a black man approaching. I just smile, say hi, and go about my day. Because that’s how it should be.
I haven’t been on the blog-scene in some time now and actually found you through Janet Krugel. In all honesty… I’m guilty of both. I see color of people around me but I don’t judge based on color. What I see is unfamiliarity of the person I am facing. I’ve not been trained in anything except restraint training and when I’m leaving work late at night or if I’m in a nearly empty parking lot… I see a person who is there and I don’t know them,, a person with a past and a mental state that I don’t know. I see a man or a woman who could flip like a light switch. In a store, I’m VERY observant and take precautions (like leaving as quick as a church mouse at the sound of a preacher walking in to deliver a sermon.) I walk down the street and pass people of all different races and ethnicities. When they might look “sketchy,” I step to the side and observe what is in a store window, I hold my purse tighter to my body and my babies a little closer to me for fear that someone might have ill-intentions towards us. In our vehicle, I’m guilty of locking my doors should I be stopped at a red light or if I’m traveling at a speed that could subject me to a carjacking.
I’m realistic about the world we live in. I’m somewhat hopeful that our world can change in the future but things that happened in Ferguson have me second guessing the small mindedness that some exhibit and justice that should take place in those situations (that are occurring more frequently through the years.)
The Alfred Wright case in Jasper has me second guessing small-town justice for men who don’t deserve what happened to him, all because the color of their skin. The Sandy Hook massacre has me on edge and aware of my students’ mental state and the mental state people who come to our campus exhibit. I worry for our son who is both black and white, our daughter who is the same. Will they be given a fair shake at justice should something transpire in their life that is less than desirable as a parent or will the person who is serving justice see one race or the other? Will they be judged justly for a crime/altercation/problem that might arise or will they be judged unfairly based solely on the color of their skin. Will their consequence (again, if something less-than-desirable occurs) fit their crime or will they be subjected to being shot with lethal force due to the same “reasons” this young man was (Mike Brown.)
I weep to think of how far we’ve come based on the peaceful protests of Martin Luther King, Jr. and the life he, (and his family members) have devoted to equal rights for all. I also weep because even-still… our country and world still have so much further to go before equality will occur for all human beings.
It took me hours to get through this post. I couldn’t keep myself from crying after every few sentences. This fear is prevalent in so many black women, including me. I hope others read this and are able to understand how mothers of black boys feel when white men or women admit to being frightened by our children, once they reach a certain height or age.
I agree, Amiyrah. This post gave me a visceral understanding on several levels all at once. Powerful post, Brandi. We are all so affected by the stereotypical images we are inundated with through the media. It takes a whole lot of intention to even begin to combat those years of built-up bias that directly impacts our behaviors.
So true, Ann. And you said the right word, “intention”. Being intentional about being honest when it’s hard, and calling folks out when it’s hard, and admitting our own prejudices when it’s damn hard, is part of the work.
Earlier this year (was it this year?) Mark Cuban made a statement about how he might cross the street if he was being approached by a group of black men. But he also might cross if the men were tattooed and pierced up white men. I respected his honesty. I understand what both he and you mean. I get it. I wish I didn’t, but it’s real. We all hold biases. It’s up to us to recognize them for what they are and be open to quelling the fear that’s based on appearance alone.
That’s right, Arnebya. This whole “fear of appearance” thing is holding us all back, and it really does play into the way we treat each other. I’m not proud of it, but I know being open about my prejudices might actually allow me to learn something while sharing more of what my husband and brothers are dealing with.
I have a lot to say on this, and I hope I get some time later to fully express the feelings your article invoked in me. But I want to commend you for having the courage to share this. As a teacher, I have had a very similar discussion with my students and learned that once we admit our fears and ask questions about them in order to understand our ignorance, the tension melts away. This is an important discussion that everyone should be having, and not just immediately following an incident in the media. It should be daily (or at least a situational-based practice) Thank you for getting the conversation started.
Your fear is understandable, much like in white culture the “big black guy” has been made out to be a terrifying figure. I hope through blogs like yours and mine (and the many others) we can help to tear down those barriers, diminish those fears, and instead present each respective culture for the richness they each possess..
Thank you so much for your comment, Dennis. It’s not fun to look at our own prejudices, but it starts there. By laying it all out on the line, not only does it open the door for conversation, but it takes ME out of the equation and we can deal with the real issues.
This! Every. Single. Word.
Thank you, Shervette!
I have a hard time dealing with my own prejudice. I’m realizing more and more that I didn’t get it, and I will never really get it, because I am white. But I want to get it. I do. I am learning, and I am becoming more aware. I have put myself out there and asked questions and had candid conversations with people of all races. Sometimes I’ve been met with distrust or indifference, but usually I’ve been met with understanding and a willingness to try and help me to understand, at least on an intellectual level. I think what holds many white people back is the fear of being labeled a racist when we get it wrong. I cringe to think back at things I said ten years ago, not aware that I was being offensive. Our white worldview leaves us blind to some things, and our feet will inevitably go straight into our mouths. I have been lucky to have friends throughout the years who knew that my intentions were not hateful, and they could gently say to me “Girl, no…”
I do not feel that racism is what is in my heart, so it is hurtful for people to think of me in that way. But at the same time, I catch thoughts creeping into my head, and I know they are wrong. I try to deny I really even had them, because the intellectual part of myself, and the human part of myself tells me that I don’t really believe those things. It is like a battle between what society has told my head to believe, and what my heart knows to be true.
Does it sting a little that my boys are not exempt? Sure. But I get it. Is there a way to fix it? I don’t know. I hope so. But I fear that until we can all really talk to each other, instead of about each other, it won’t.
Erin, you’re so right. The first step is admitting that we all (WE ALL) have prejudices. Admitting that in this post, I probably feel a bit like you are talking about. Racism is ingrained in our country. It’s like addiction, in a way. As the child of 2 addicts, I know that i have to work extra hard to not fall into my parents’ habits. And as Americans, as much as we love this great country, we have to work to not fall into the habits of our ancestors / founding fathers. Thank you for sharing your feelings here. It means so much to me.
Hey Brandi. Thank you for this post. I am largely silent on the topic of race relations on blogs and FB because I am so afraid of saying the wrong thing, and any time I DO say anything that I hope to be constructive, it is not perceived as such. But I long for open dialogue. I read all of the updates and posts by my black mom friends, and I listen and try to take it in and hear “the other” side. The fact that I am even commenting here is because I trust you.
This line you wrote, I truly feel this is the BIGGEST barrier to improving communication: ” The media has planted the seeds for a war against your boys, too, and it’s starting to take root.”
The media has only made a bad situation much, much worse, in my opinion. I’m not laying blame on them in an effort to put it off myself, but I am saying that I feel the situation is nearly hopeless as long as the media is flaming the tensions.
I believe your fears are valid and I commend you for sharing them here. I admit that I am fearful when I am on a downtown street and I see a black man approaching… and also, but probably not quite as much so… when I see a white man who looks tough. I have never had an altercation with either, but it has been ingrained as me my whole life to be more fearful of a black man than a white one.
I also know that when I send my 15-year-old son out with his best friend who happens to be black, I have a serious talk with him about having no perception of wrongdoing and treating adults with respect no matter what – a conversation I probably wouldn’t have if he were going out with a white friend. Because I know that they are looked at differently by adults in authority. And I’m aware that one wrong move and one flippant remark to a person in authority could get his friend in a load of trouble, whereas the same behavior by my son would probably be shrugged off as being a stupid kid… And that makes me terribly sad and scared for them. This is real. And I wish I knew how to change it.
All I know to do is to start at home, and hope that by talking to my kids and by having friends who are black they will grow up with a different perception than I grew up with. I also think having these conversations on blogs, while they may be difficult and not always go as well as we hope, will eventually help us understand each other better, which has to lead to change, right? I can only hope.
Love your heart, Brandi. I hope you have a lovely Thanksgiving Day with your precious family.
Very courageous for sharing your thoughts. I agree with Erin, who wrote below,” I catch thoughts creeping into my head, and I know they are wrong.” Most of the time when I see a group of black or white boys approaching me on the street I don’t move anywhere, but look them in the eyes, smile, and/or say hello. Whether or not I’m looking to diffuse an anticipated situation, maybe. This post has encouraged me even more to look into my own heart, and ask God to change me and my thoughts and my actions. Thank you for sharing, Brandi.
Kristine, you know what? I used to do that with the drug dealers in the neighborhood that I used to work in. I’d look them in the eye, say hello. See how my prejudice stopped me from even remembering that??? Wow. Thanks so much for this comment. You have encouraged ME. <3