The Racial Divide

I've been spending a lot of time this summer thinking about how to have conversations with other white folks about systemic racism. Increasingly it seems people either get it, or think it's a non-issue.

I recently spent an entire day getting tests done in a hospital. Knowing that there'd be some wait time I brought a book with me: David Blight's 2018 biography, Frederick Douglass: Prophet of Freedom. In the course of the day two different health care practitioners (both white women under 40) noticed the book and asked about it.

One was impressed that I was trying to educate myself about the impact of white privilege, and the pain of how the federal government turned its back on the promise of Lincoln's 1863 Emancipation Proclamation in the decades that followed the Civil War—allowing white supremacy to reassert itself during Reconstruction. We had a solid connection about the need of whites to educate themselves about the dimensions of systemic racism.

The second conversation went differently. When I offered a sketch of the horrific injustices that occurred regularly in the South that was the primary focus of Douglass' orations during his final two decades, this person opined, "Well, life was probably hard for everyone after the war"—as if the hardscrabble conditions that Southern whites faced at the end of the 19th Century somehow excused or justified the lynchings, voter intimation, and unequal access to property and wages that characterized Black lives. (Was she serious? Did she really think that?)

When I persisted, making clear that I thought the reality for whites, however poor, was nowhere near as desperate or unsafe as what Blacks experienced, she backed down. While this exchange was brief, and ended without rancor or harsh words, neither did I think I'd altered her perspective, and I've been brooding about that ever since.

What might I have done differently that may have led this second person to reconsider the story she tells herself about systemic racism? I'm not sure. While I'm glad I didn't just let the moment slide by (as I might have six months ago), I also feel I need a more effective response in such moments—which will undoubtedly keep occurring.

There is a great deal for us whites to do to dismantle systemic racism, and it starts with acknowledging its existence. While I'm clear about that, and the work I need to do, I'm not clear about the best strategy for penetrating white defensiveness—which is incredibly strong in many pockets. I doubt I'll succeed by getting righteous and pounding on the gates.

One Piece of the Puzzle

Just last week I read JD Vance's bestselling memoir, Hillbilly Elegy, chronicling the lives and culture of three generations of Appalachian whites, which goes a long way to explaining why poor whites from Scots/Irish rootstock are demoralized about their prospects in the world and feel that Trump voices their anger. Vance describes a lifestyle and world view that was totally foreign to me. While the author had the loving support of strong grandparents that encouraged him to achieve the escape velocity necessary to avoid the downward spiral of Appalachian nihilism, most of his peers have not been so fortunate. Vance paints a grim picture of dead-end jobs, opioid and/or alcohol addiction, out-of-control birth rates, terrible diets, broken families, and high violence and abuse.

As a segment of the population, there is a higher percentage of poor whites who report that they don't expect to earn as much as their parents did (42%) than any other segment. This is the segment that most strongly feels that the American dream has failed them.

While poor whites are by no means the only portion of the population resistant to the concept of systemic racism (Appalachian whites think that they are being discriminated against; that Blacks are being favored), they are part of the issue, and Vance poses a reasonable challenge: what do politicians and more privileged whites (such as myself) have to say to poor whites that can make a difference—not in the way they vote, but in their prospects for a life that works? That allows us to pull together to end systemic racism?

While it's discouraging how big the hole is that we're trying to climb out of, at least I feel like we're moving in the right direction. Finally.