The Murderous Chasm of American Racism in the Era of Covid-19
I am finding life psychically hard to bear. I am admitting this because it’s true. Not admitting this would not make it any less true. I want to begin by saying I am appalled and sickened by what I read in the news and on Social Media outlets like Facebook. I am appalled and sickened by some of the actions of People. The blaming, cheating, lying, the lack of responsibility, defiance, indifference and complete fucking ineptness. I am appalled and sickened that our nation’s racial contract is showing itself (again) and we are unapolegetically silent on this matter, as we’ve been for centuries. I am sickened and appalled that a Black woman who worked as an EMT could be shot and killed in her own bed while she slept. I am heartbroken to know this could happen to me because I am a Black woman too.
I live with the bewildering reality that if I, a Marriage Therapist / Doctoral Student, were to be shot and killed by a white police officer while I slept, the justice system and perhaps you might assume that I was guilty of a crime. As such, the system would cull through my life history to find some kind of data to justify mistakingly killing me to preserve the assumption of white innocence. My spouse, friends and family would then have to live with the heartbreaking knowledge that the reason I was killed was solely because I was Black.
Days after reading about the lynching of Ahmaud Arbury and then the senseless killing of this lovely, amazing innocent Black woman Breonna Taylor, I fell into a depression and became paranoid. I didn’t leave my home for four days.
Why should anyone have to worry and fret about being killed in their own home?
It is disappointing, but not shocking, that this administration brazenly and explicitly carries out a discriminatory agenda. America has a long history of being impervious to Black pain. And now with a pandemic happening, this administration has reintroduced another layer to the racially discriminatory agenda: Necropolitics — the sacrificing of Black and brown folks who are going back to work under the chaotic and uncoordinated guidelines for reopening businesses to inject money into America’s crippled economy, an economy that was born on the backs of Blacks. Could there be more evidence of a system that disdains Black and Brown folks?
If you are over 50, what I am saying may not be news to you. You’re probably grappling within yourself with how this pandemic is being handled and the revelation of the blatant disparities. You hear it. You know something alarming is happening — racism. Something deep within has awakened into fear, terror. Coronavirus has made the murderous chasm between whites and Black (and brown) folks crystal clear.
Regardless of our race and racial experience, every day triggers us in some way. The very word racism lurks unconsciously and clearly picks at our existential scabs, like an itch that we can’t seem to scratch. Talking about race and anti-racism is messy because it brings to light our racial beliefs and values expressed in ignorance, innocence, and righteousness.
If you are reading this and you’re Black, you’ve struggled with your own racism. You’ve also struggled with despair, financial and emotional distress, violence, intergenerational trauma, addictions, police brutality, this administration, discrimination — experiences that have shaped your racial identity. Trauma is part of our racial inheritance, a trauma that consistently affects how I see and feel about myself — always fearful that my respectability will be tested before I even open my mouth.
If you are white and reading this, you’re probably feeling outraged, judged, confused, put off, shocked and perhaps not sure why. Phrases like “white privilege” make you angry, because you may not see yourself as privileged. You may want to have a conversation about race, but don’t want to feel blamed, uncomfortable or guilty. You may think that racial issues have nothing to do with you.
The only way to undo racism and racist policies in this country is to consistently identify it, describe it and then we can begin to dismantle it. As awkward and tiresome as that is …
I have spent most of my adult life around more than a smattering of white people, in all white settings, personally and professionally — settings where I was the only person of color in the room. I have noticed that, when whites talk about race, they spin words into meaning that’s vague and unclear, fearful and anxious the door will swing open and they’ll be viewed as a racist.
White people are part of a racial group identity by which everything in American life is measured — social norms, policies, systems and practices. Yet a lot of white folks struggle with their “group identity” and prefer to see themselves only as “individuals” with intentions of being “good” people.
The problem with focusing on the individual identity is that it leaves many white people unaware of themselves as part of a racial group — with historical baggage that’s had a tremendous impact on Black folks.
Because I have had many different types of relationships and interfaced personally with white folks, I have some understanding of the pain and struggle about being white — about being a part of the dominant group identity. But “privilege” is the water in which white dominance swims, so it’s impossible to fully comprehend this group identity if we only look at whiteness at the individual level and not at the group level. Failing to examine the concept of whiteness and its roots keeps whites from examining the shadow side of being part of a racial group that identifies as white and also from examining the diversity of this group. Avoiding this critical examination is in itself white privilege.
I began studying whiteness and white privilege as an undergraduate and again in graduate school at Harvard Divinity School. This discourse opened my mind, heart and eyes to the layers of white pain, anxiety, trauma and guilt. One particular event stands out in particular. One of my peers at the Divinity School (let’s give him a name — Dave) decided to would confront his whiteness and created a Liturgy as the platform to do this. During the Liturgy, Dave sung a chant atoning for his great-grandfather who he said had owned slaves, asking for forgiveness. As Dave chanted, tears rolled down his face. Our wet eyes met and right there in that moment we came together in truth — I, a descendant of slaves, and Dave, a benefactor whose family had profited from slavery. Our historical narratives met in a place that the 13th century poet Rumi refers to: “Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and right-doing there is a field. I’ll meet you there.” That was 15 years ago and I’m still talking about and resonating with it. That Seminar class, aptly named, “Racializing Whiteness,” and Dave’s beautiful Liturgy transformed me.
What I learned and experienced in that class shifted the entire structure of my racial consciousness. I learned that I am racist. I learned that racist and anti-racist are not static identities — we can be racist one minute, and anti-racist the next. I learned that what we say about race and what we do about race, in each moment, determines what — not who — we are. I learned that, yes we can achieve racial healing. More importantly, I re-learned that I needed to give up living in Black victimization, heal intergenerational trauma— and find spiritual practices to help me reorient my racial consciousness towards a healing, caring, resilient and anti-racist identity. This way I can live fiercely and fearlessly among humanity, and together with others help change racist institutions, systems, social norms and policies that keep us divided.
Since Trump became the President, pernicious white privilege here in the United States has been brought out of hiding. His presidency has also brought to light white nationalist and subcultural extremist groups that have no problem claiming white privilege and supremacy as their birthright. I am at the same time grateful to see all the anti-racist white people becoming diligent, curious and conscious about race, perhaps in response to this coming-out-of-hiding of the ugly truth.
I find it hard to underestimate how big a role white privilege has had in the mishandling of the American response to this pandemic. I find some of the considerations informed by racist policies. It is shear stupidity for any leader of the free world to suggest that ingesting disinfectant could rid one of the coronavirus. If President Obama had suggested this idiotic method, the nation would be outraged and immediately deem him as incompetent and unfit for the duty of President. Let’s make no mistake, the “system” would have found a way to force him out.
In addition to the office of the Presidency, Trump’s whiteness protects him from such consequences. The American justice system simply isn’t designed to convict dangerous white men like him, white men who encourage the arms-carrying hassling of their own countrymen and women, who intimidate a law-making body in Michigan (for example) into stopping its democratic work, who cheer on those who openly disobey health-protecting measures meant to stop the spread of the virus.
I want safe, concrete guidelines for the reopening process. Being Black, I am statistically at higher risk both for contracting and for dying from coronavirus in this country. The scant protections for Black folks have always come through legislation. That is part of slavery’s legacy. However, in the age of Covid-19, we are all facing our own mortality because this virus, unlike many of our systems, does not discriminate among persons.
States that have reopened may be having outbreaks and spikes without even realizing it. Yes, it is an inconvenience, but I accept it and enjoy the serenity of knowing that I am safe and keeping you and my family safe. I need some dental work, I need an eye exam and it’s getting harder to see and read. Going to the dentist or optometrist right now seems risky to me because it involves close proximity to other people. I am not paranoid, just exercising cautious discernment.
The folks who are pushing for a swift reopening are, if you have noticed, a small minority of whites. They see work as a right and they want to do as they please. The very essence of white privilege is this belief that one should be able to do what one wants regardless of the impact on others. Unfortunately, privilege has left many white folks ill-prepared for withstanding inconvenience.
I wish we had competent leadership. An empathic leader who was capable of bringing us all together in hope, instead of blaming and devising lawless strategies that polarize us and treat us like collateral damage. I wish that leader was savvy enough and intelligent enough to think beyond politicizing this pandemic for his own personal gains and self-interest. The motivation for dividing us seems evident to me. An administration and a presidency built on taking advantage of racist hatred is by definition unethical and immune to the suffering of others. The disastrous American response to the pandemic is just one tragic result.
I understand economic hardship. Black women, who are at the bottom of the economic ladder, are well-practiced at surviving financial hardship and we prevail. I also understand how fear, desperation, belligerence, indifference, the sense of entitlement, resentment toward authority , unhealed racism, and — an attitude of just not giving-a-fuck can propel many people to lose sight of the dangers at stake in spreading this virus.
Coronavirus is an interdependent phenomenon, so I hope and pray that everyone considers reducing the risk of contracting and spreading the coronavirus because, believe it or not, we all have an impact on each other.
“We must be still and still moving.” — TS Eliot
“Compassion is the keen awareness of the interdependence of all things.” — Thomas Merton
