Stereotypes and Race: Three Times This Month

The everydayness of stereotypes and racism happened in three's this month.

The first thing that happened:  Misa was called a "Brown ugly girl with a mustache."  So heartbreaking for me to hear as she described her day casually, mentioning this incident in her usual stoic manner, wanting to remain distant so as not to let on that it was harmful.  I knew when she brought it up a few more times that evening that her angst was building.  So on the last mention, I scooped her up in my arms because her feelings seemed just too faraway, and as she settled in, I was met with a well of tears that perhaps helped her say, "It really hurt my feelings."  She went through a painful litany of how to solve the problem - everything from putting on the foundation make-up she uses for her theater performances to wanting to avoid the kids who deflated her, to sucking it up and forgetting about it.  Needing to give this the proper attention, but not wanting to dwell, I swallowed the lump in my throat and coached her through tough and hurtful interactions like these.  We role played a few times, and then when she returned to her spunky self, I asked what she wanted me to do to help heal the situation.

"Maybe you can email my teacher and my principal and tell them it hurts when I'm teased for things I can't help."

Things Misa can't help:  Brown.  Girl.  Mustache (which is really just facial hair above her upper lip, and happens to be dark . . . because well, she's Brown).

The second thing that happened:  Our neighbor, a super friendly guy who always goes out of his way to ask about Emma, Misa and John-Pio made this comment while riding in the elevator to our prospective floors:  "We (he has a super friendly wife, too) notice that your kids play with other kids who are so diverse and we just think that's wonderful to see!"

Translation:  "Diverse" as in their two best friends who are BLACK.  "How wonderful to see" as in, how nice of you to befriend them.

And the third thing that happened just today: This came up on my News Feed from one of my Facebook friends:

Wish my downstair neighbors would STFU!!!! Im about thiiiis close to calling the landlord and letting him know the family of mexicans below me are way over occupancy. Ive had enough screaming and wall hitting to last a lifetime.

So.  If they were a family of white people, would he have noted that?  Because of his experience right then and there, is he somehow absolved from publicly raging a racist remark describing screaming and wall hitting Mexicans, as if that is an integral behavior of Mexican culture?

I point out these everyday acts of stereotypes and racism not out of hyper-awareness, but because they help me understand my own racism and tendencies towards stereotypes.  Whether I act on them or just think them to myself, I have them.  Bringing these acts to a conscious level is one way to face that while being in ambiguous situations like the ones above can be painful and annoying both, there just might be a chance of systemic change even if they are isolated events.  For the sake of Misa and other young people who are directly confronted with confusing and hurtful acts of racism, I believe it's worthwhile to continue to bring these experiences to the forefront - not to encourage anger or victimization, but to empower and reframe.

Stereotypes and Race: The Tsunami Called Racism

Racial legacies run deep.  There is no doubt that resentment by different ethnic groups toward whites, lingers on today.  It's a complex feeling, but James Kamoku reminds us that trauma, even  though 100 years has passed, is unforgettable and difficult to ignore.  Hawaiians had their homeland invaded, were exposed to diseases, and had an alien culture forced upon them.   These are not just stories passed down from one generation to the next, but as you'll read here, they're stories that James is still living today.  I love his honesty and how he confronts his own attitude about stereotypes and race.  Read on and reflect . . . 

Even Hawaii, in its isolation, does not shield its inhabitants from the effects of racism.  Having been born and raised in Hawaii most of my life I have lived in a racist society.  Although the majority of the people I associated with were similar to me -- low-income, large family, welfare types -- there was still this lingering misconception that most Hawaiians are dumb, poor savages.  Most people would judge us as a whole group and not by our individual strengths.   We were easily written off as a short-tempered, mean, hateful race by other groups living in Hawaii.  For example, I would overhear kids in high school state, "Don't stare at them [Hawaiians], they'll think you are challenging them."  I was totally taken aback as I had never even met them, and they already had this idea that I was going to hurt them. I understand that some Hawaiians are like that, but not most.  Many Hawaiians are loving, caring, and empathetic people.

There are many reasons why some Hawaiians dislike other races, and vice-versa, many of which are still prevalent today in the United States.  For example, in Hawaiian classes, we were taught about Hawaiian history that included Hawaiian laws, monarchy, and language.  We were also taught how Hawaii became a part of the United States.  It is in this class that I found that there were many disgruntled Hawaiians over the "overthrow of the peaceful nation of the Hawaiian kingdom."  Many of my classmates, at that point, started developing a dislike for all white Americans because of something that happened 100 or so years previous.  I am not going to lie;  I, too, had a lot of anger towards the individuals who took part in the overthrow, especially when we learned of the effects that it was having on me and my family today.  For this reason, some Hawaiians come to hate America and Americans.  I asked those Hawaiians why they hated any group that had nothing to do with the overthrow 100 years ago.  They simply replied, "Because they [other groups] are not doing anything to reverse its effects and we [Hawaiians] are still dying from it."

It is very difficult for me to not hold any specific race accountable for not helping to reverse the effects of an event as it is still hurting me and my family today.  For example, my family is still fighting over the rights to our familial lands, which have been in our family for generations.   Even though we have the land deeds, the state created a law that if we did not develop the land and someone else lived on even a portion of the land and paid taxes on it, then they could "adversely possess" the land -- which would mean that this individual would now own that piece of land.  It just so happens that the individuals that are doing this are wealthy white Americans, or wealthy Asian Americans.  This reality does not help the effects of racism and, in fact, cause those effects to become amplified.

Take my uncle, for example, he went to the house of an Asian man that was trying to live on our family lands.  When he asked the man to leave, the man said he did not need to leave because he adversely possessed it and if my uncle came back, he would shoot him.  So my uncle found the man's name and phone number and called him but the Asian man did not answer.  The Asian man called my uncle back and told him, "If you, Stupid Hawaiian, try to do anything about the land we live on then I am going to shoot and kill you and your stupid Hawaiian family".  That was a recording left on my uncle's answering machine that he played for  my family.  Talk about race warfare.  This is just one of many examples of how racism plays out in Hawaii and how my family and I are affected by it every day.

So, as you can see, racism can come in many different forms whether it's a judgement about something you don't understand, a misconception of people you don't know, or even through learning of something that hurt a specific group in the past.  All of these things along with its continual effects on those groups lead to racial stereotyping of all sorts, even on an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.  It even affects a Hawaiian living thousands of miles away from home.

James is a middle school teacher at Sherman Middle School in Madison, WI.  We teach in opposite ends of the building so I don't see him much.  In fact, the only real interaction I've had with him (before forcing him to write for my blog) was when I pretty much put him in a headlock during a training that taught teachers how to respond to student physical aggression.  I'm still waiting for James to submit his bio, but in a frenetic moment, I at least snapped a pretty good pic of him!  

Stereotypes and Race: Suburbium Snapshot

Direct and frank.  That's the path this conversation about stereotypes and race needs to take.  In my opinion, listening to our own narratives and the stories others tell us, is one way to transcend underlying negative beliefs and perceptions about people in a diverse world.  More importantly, it serves to help us understand ourselves and others.  I'll never forget when Zach Kimbrew enrolled midway through the school year as a seventh grader - he was quiet and unassuming at first, then turned into a charming intellectual with a knack for writing.  As he grew into adulthood, so did his strong voice that he uses here to convey something very important: The power of language and the real effects of stereotypes and racism.  I love Zach's attitude as he looks back at a hurtful life event, and challenges us to look at our own assumptions and"continue the conversation."  Read on . . .

               I didn’t realize-nor appreciate-the organic puddle of love and understanding from my peers and educators that I was once accustomed to living in when I was a student at Madison East High and Sherman Middle school. For the majority part of my schooling experience in Madison I felt understood and encouraged by my teachers and counselors. Their genuine care was obvious; I felt their compassion through their words and their commitment to my progress. So when I entered a small private college (in Madison) that professed their love for diversity I expected to encounter “progressive” or “open-minded” individuals that Madison’s reputation claim to possess…But I was in for an interesting reality check.

               Just like most freshman at the college, I had a freshman-specific advisor (we can call her Jane) to help me select the courses that I needed to obtain my desired major (Secondary Ed, English.) During our monthly meetings, while discussing which courses I should take, Jane would consistently recommend other majors that had lower standards for attainment, while emphasizing the difficulty of the English/Secondary Education major. This wasn’t an isolated conversation, we had regular meetings like this; meetings that - maybe not intentionally - seemed to promote doubt.  As I sat in her office, I immediately thought of The Autobiography of Malcolm X, when young Malcolm Little tells his teacher about his dreams of being a lawyer, and his teacher recommends carpentry instead.  In addition to our monthly meetings, my advisor also taught a freshmen-only course that I was in.  Despite our discouraging meetings, I enjoyed the course she taught; it provided a great way for freshman to build relationships, and aided our transition to college;  I felt comfortable participating and expressing myself during class.

One day Jane setup a meeting - to my surprise - between her, an African American staff member and me.  During the meeting, Jane expressed her frustration to the African American staff member, “I am having a hard time understanding Zach; It’s his Black English.  If he was a foreign exchange student I wouldn’t have a problem with telling him that I can’t understand him, but since he is not I feel bad.”  I replied, “I didn’t know you had a problem understanding me.  You could have told me; I don’t mind clarifying myself if someone is confused by my vocabulary.”  Throughout the meeting Jane didn’t speak directly to me, Jane spoke to the African American staff member like we were in a courtroom, and she was a plaintiff pleading her case.  When the staff member and I were speaking to each other briefly; Jane interrupted, “I can understand him now when you guys are speaking to each other.”  Then Jane brought up a past conversation we had in class where I told the class about a Filipino dish that my family cooks, and she expressed her confusion about the dish when I explained the recipe to the class. Again I tried to explain the recipe, “It’s called Pancit, and it has rice noodles, chicken, and cabbage.” When I had said cabbage, looking at me for the first time Jane interrupted, “you mean sauerkraut.” I said, “No, I don’t think so, just cabbage.” Jane nodded, “That’s sauerkraut!” At the time, I wasn’t knowledgeable enough about sauerkraut to debate her, so I had no reply. (I have tasted Sauerkraut before and I was certain that there wasn’t any in Pancit).

After the meeting, I wasn’t comfortable expressing myself in Jane’s class.  I felt hurt, unsupported, and that the College’s notion of Diversity was merely a slogan.  Though it never verbally came to life, I felt encouraged to assimilate- as opposed to expressing my own thoughts - from some faculty members who shared the narrow lens that Jane saw through when encountering difference.  Through my years at this college, I constantly compared these encounters with my past experiences with staff who worked in MMSD schools.  The big factor was experience.  I noticed that people, who had genuine, good-qualitative relationships with people from different backgrounds, were more understanding and willing to embrace differences.  Though it can be uncomfortable working with others outside one’s cultural norm, it promotes personal growth.  Instead of arguing Sauerkraut vs. Cabbage, it could be simply learning something new.

If you use the term “Black English” referring to the speech of African Americans, understand that there is a lot of damage being done. The idea of “Black English” is filled with White supremacy, fascism, and elitism.  It implies that the way Black and Brown people speak is inferior and inappropriate. Language and dialect is a very important part of a person’s identity, so when you humiliate that aspect of a person, you limit the experience and education of all persons involved.  For example, when Jane devalued my vernacular, my honest participation and self-expression stopped in class, which robbed my classmates of a rich conversation and learning experience without them even knowing.  Also one should understand that language is constantly evolving; words and their meanings - they come and go -continue to change.  Let’s end the concept of “The proper way” to speak; different words and languages are opportunities to learn about people’s histories and cultures.  Let’s work to understand the capacity of the words we use when talking about groups of people; especially when talking about people outside our own background. Ask yourself: “What are the implications of my words?”  Being self-critical is a process, an extremely important process.

If you’d ask Jane if she considered herself a racist or white supremacist, Jane would reply with conviction, “absolutely not!”  When we examine her language and action inside her workplace, we find Jane is a consistent contributor to the racist, white supremacist Machine.  Jane was in a pivotal position (of power) that greatly affects the future of many young people.  Jane could have seized the precious moments given to guide young minds to meaningful paths.  Instead Jane added to the ocean of oppression minorities wade through.  There are many Jane characters - in full effect - in a variety of settings, not just in colleges.  Let’s continue the conversation to work it out.

To end on a lighter, positive note;  during my last semester at the college I was recognized as a valuable mind, good writer, and captivating speaker.  For my graduation ceremony, I was asked to write and give the end-of-ceremony blessing to the students, faculty, staff, and families at the Alliant Energy Center.  It was a great feeling to go from being disrespected for my speech to being appreciated because of my speech.

Zach is an educator in Madison, WI teaching sexual health at various middle schools and community centers.  He enjoys writing, watching films, and learning new languages.  No surprise, he also values exercise - crediting Ms. Matson for getting him hooked on "Sweatin' to the Oldies"  as a pre-teen.  He spends his free time making sure his nieces and nephews are physically active.  Zach wants to be the greatest writer/filmmaker/educator in the Whole Wide World!  

Stereotypes and Race: Why I Only Write Checks at the Grocery Store

               I wanted honest experiences that tell the reality behind stereotypes and racism because too often, personal experiences are dismissed or undermined as being "overly sensitive" or perception-based.  If you think this after reading this piece by Melissa Matson, check yourself.  Melissa's story expresses the raw emotions of how anger and embarrassment turn to fear.   I was reminded of the significance of dignity when faced with the ugliness behind stereotypes, and I'm thankful Melissa was willing to tell just one of her stories.   Here she shares her reality, and I really love her bright wit!  (She's this way in person, too.)  Read for yourself . . . 

Hi, my name is Melissa Matson….and I am a single mother. A proud, single, Black mother. I have the most beautiful little replica of me walking this earth; I wouldn’t have it any other way. I found out I was pregnant the week before finals during the last semester of my senior year of college. I was scared. Terrified, actually. Then I gave birth and I discovered single moms (or maybe just parents in general) kind of give up their rights to most fears once they have a child. I was scared of driving; then I took a nice little ride on public transportation with my infant, her stroller, a diaper bag, and my big purse. I quickly got over that fear. I was scared of bugs….and maybe I still am a little. But, I have to be supermom and save my kid from the bees and spiders and scary ants. I was scared of being a mother. But, the nurse said, “There’s a baby in there!” So I had to suck it up and figure it out. I’m a work in progress…so is my kid. But, we’re getting there.

I still have one fear though. This dreadful fear that sends chills down my spine and despair to my heart every couple of weeks…..the grocery store. Oh gosh….grocery shopping is my least favorite chore. I hate it. Passionately. And it’s all because of one guy. We’ll call him Tim. Tim was the manager at a large grocery store here in Madison, WI. One day a few years ago, my daughter and I were doing our shopping. She was being a little angel, only begging for everything at eye level. I was being the great mom that I am, telling my three year old to get a job and she can buy anything she wants. Normal mommy-daughter stuff. I get to the check area, which is horribly backed up, and stand in the shortest line. Up walks Tim, about a minute into my wait. And Tim, probably believing he is going to save me some time and make my day and win himself a customer service accolade, looks at me and says, quite loudly, “I’m sorry ma’am, but the card scanner at this check out line is broken, so we aren’t able to accept EBT cards. You can follow me over to this line.”

Why you little….such and such (mommy’s don’t curse). If looks could kill, little Timmy would have fallen right then and there.

You see, Tim had been informing people that the card scanner didn’t work in that line. I had heard him as I walked up. I wasn’t worried about it. I had my checkbook. What he hadn’t done to the other people that walked in that line was tell them that their EBT card wouldn’t be accepted. Guess what made me different from those other people? I was a Black woman with a cart full of groceries and a little kid begging for candy. Black woman with a cart full of groceries and a little kid….of course EBT is involved. Why? Because there is a group of people that believe that any Black person that eats well probably gets government assistance. Don’t believe that group exists? Go check out Rupert Murdoch’s Twitter feed. I don’t follow him. I’m not a masochist. But he posted an interesting tweet after the 400 pound woman in New York fell through the sidewalk. He tweeted, “How did fat lady who fell thru street get to 400lbs? Welfare, stamps, etc? Then leave us all with 20yrs immense health bills.” See, the 400 pound woman was Black. And of course, Murdoch, in all his old man wisdom, knows that it is IMPOSSIBLE for a Black person to afford food. The government HAS to be helping them. Duh. And because of overweight Black people, healthcare is unaffordable for all. Double Duh.

Why you little……such and such (no cursing, mommy).

Murdoch is so blinded by ignorance that he forgot to check the facts presented by the media company he founded. Ulanda Williams, the woman that fell through the sidewalk, is a social worker. She works. Meaning she probably buys her food with the money she earns from the job she works. And she probably receives healthcare benefits, which she more than likely pays for, from the job that she works. I can’t help but wonder if people stare in shock as she pulls out her wallet and pays for her groceries with *gasp* money? I can’t help but wonder if when she walks into the doctor’s office, people stare in anger and blame her for their high health care premiums?

I want to be clear. I support the Foodshare program provided by the state. I support most government assistance programs. I believe sometimes people fall on hard times. It’s not a hand out; it’s a helping hand. Big difference. I also know there are some people that use the system inappropriately. And I believe they should be punished. But I don’t believe people should be made to feel shamed if they need help. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re not a bad person. I also know that everyone that uses the system is NOT Black. I suspect everyone knows that. But some people need a scapegoat. See, my fear of grocery shopping is not that people will think I’m on welfare. My fear is that people will use me as a way to affirm their delusional beliefs about Black people. That we’re all lazy. That we’re all on welfare. That we all have kids just to receive some kind of government assistance. I don’t want to be THAT person. Because we’re not all THAT way. Trust me.

Is my fear a little irrational? Possibly. But, so are some people’s beliefs.

Little Timmy, the grocery store manager….I just smiled at him, and politely informed him that I would be paying by check. Then I rolled my eyes so hard my contact lenses almost fell out. And I decided, since I can’t forego grocery shopping for the rest of my life, from then on out I’d only write checks at the grocery store. It’s my little way of protecting the virtue of my African American brothers and sisters.

Melissa received her bachelor's degree (and Jada) from Lakeland College where she majored in psychology.  Her masters in psychology is from Walden University.  She works for the Department of Workforce Development as a senior tax specialist, and before that, was the ever-so-loving nanny to John-Pio and Misa in their early years of living.  In her spare time as a proud single mother, she likes journaling, wacky dance contests with Jada, practicing yoga, and urban line dancing.