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Exploring Whiteness

In the near future, we will be adding reviews of published material and links to websites dealing with race issues. Stay tuned.



Essay published in the Portland Press Herald, October 2000


White Privilege is ‘Invisible,’ so Few in the Majority Recognize It

I was raised in South Korea as the daughter of American medical missionaries. As a seven-year-old just arrived from the U.S. in 1960, I regularly encountered children my age on the streets, dressed in ragged clothes, rattling their tin cans, begging for coins. Korea was struggling to rebuild out of the devastation and destruction of the war just ten years before. The poverty was immense.

Housing for missionaries was on hill compounds in the tall, stately, turn-of-the-century brick houses built by the first missions. With so many people desperate for jobs, every missionary family had Koreans helping out around the home. Most Koreans believed that the Americans were their saviors. My pale skin and light brown hair attracted attention everywhere I went. Walking in the markets, I knew how princesses felt, surrounded by crowds of awestruck onlookers.

What I experienced was an extreme form of white privilege. White Americans were like royalty - highly visible, mostly revered, and enormously wealthy compared to the Koreans around them. Despite my parents’ teachings of respect and dignity and equality, this conditioning instilled in me an unconscious sense of white and American superiority, however “benign.”

Back in the States for my adult life, the last twenty years in Maine, I have been able to apply what I learned in Korea to what I see here. White privilege in the U.S. is nowhere near as obvious as it was in 1960’s Korea. It is subtle, complex, and usually, invisible to white people. How can this be, when the impact of it is so visible to people of color?

“White is transparent,” writes Bonnie Kae Grover in an article entitled ”Growing Up White in America?” “That’s the point of being the dominant race. Sure, the whiteness is there, but you never think of it. If you’re white, you never have to think of it.” In a state as white as Maine, race is seldom even raised as an issue. Because white people are not conscious of race, it’s also very hard for them to notice how much a part race plays in our society. It can be mystifying when people of color make claims about racism, because it’s something that just isn’t on most white people’s radar screens.

One definition of racism which I find particularly useful comes from David Wellman (Portraits of White Racism): “a system of advantage based on race.” Much of what is in our way as we navigate the waters of race relations in the 21st century is not overt acts of racial hatred. Some of the most persistent barriers are entrenched, in both attitude and institutions, as privilege. Most privilege is unconscious, unintentional, and invisible to the beneficiary. That is why we are stuck, again and again, defending ourselves saying, “But I couldn’t be racist, I didn’t mean to.” Of course we didn’t mean to. We have no idea we’re acting out the privilege because we take it so much for granted that we can’t even see it’s there.

So, if we’re not doing anything on purpose, why should white people take on the responsibility of becoming aware of the benefits our skin color grants us? Of course the vast evidence of the harm such a system inflicts on people of color is a highly motivating factor. Who among us consciously chooses to be a part of a system that is designed to hurt other people? But I think we must also take a look at how such a system hurts white people. On first glance, this is an odd proposition — how can privilege hurt someone who is benefiting from it? The material and psychological benefits of white privilege are real. The damage, I believe, is to our humanness. It was no good to my humanity for me to grow up with some cellular instinct of superiority, even when all my conscious beliefs contradicted it. Simultaneously, the awareness of what has been done to people of color has instilled in me a deep sense of shame and guilt. The combination of superiority and shame has caused me to behave in ways that isolate me from others and from myself. As James Baldwin writes in White Man’s Guilt, “…the history of white people has led them to a fearful baffling place where they have begun to lose touch with reality — to lose touch, that is, with themselves. ” I’ve had enough of this “fearful, baffling place.” It’s time to move.

 

Anne Sibley O’Brien is the creator and performer of “White Lies ,” a theater piece presented October 5-8 at the University of New England. She is a member of the Maine chapter of the National Coalition Building Institute.




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