Disclaimer:
this is my personal opinion; you have every right to disagree with it, but I
will ask you to respect it. To reiterate: what you read here is my personal
opinion and does not reflect views of my host country, Guyana, Peace Corps
Guyana, the U.S. Government, or my host community Wakapoa.
Before
I get into this whole shebang I’d like to give a shout out to the book which
really started me thinking about race issues, and my personal perspective on
race. Americanah by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. If you are looking for a new
book, please consider this one.
It's
funny, white privilege. Those who have it, don't realize it, and those who
don't, do. It's a fair guess that I've been living most of my life from the
comfort of white privilege. It's only been in the last few months that I've
become aware of it. There are times when my skin color affects how I am
treated. Other factors may be at play. Gender. Being a volunteer. Appearance. Finances.
However, I think race plays a role in more places than I realized. Living as I
do, as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Guyana, I’ve become aware of being the only
white person around. Being the minority. And I’ve been treated differently than
the people around me. However, the million dollar questions is: would I receive
the same treatment if I weren't white? If I weren't a girl? Maybe I am
underestimating the people here and it truly would be the same. Although, maybe
not.
Before
I came to Peace Corps I had never been the ethnic minority. There were people
of other races than my own in my hometown, in my high school, and in my college.
They were there, yes, but they were the minority, at least in my circles.
Growing up with my family, we talked about race, and racism; it was in the
world around us and my sister and I were curious. But in those dinner table
conversations, I came to learn that judging someone based on something like the
color of their skin is absurd. Are they still human? Great. They don’t deserve
to be judged.
I
had seen the news, heard of people who were racist, bigoted, convinced they
were right. But, I guess I had never really met them, or got into deep
conversations with them about their beliefs.
That
has changed in my time in Guyana. I’ve met people who are blatantly racist, and
don’t seem to think anything is wrong with that. I’m accustomed to the American
reaction where people throw up their hands and start yelling a lot when the
themes of “race” and “racism” are brought into conversations. Here, there is no
hand throwing, and sometimes there’s yelling, but most of the time it’s part of
a normal conversation.
Race
is a considerable factor in Guyana. You see a few varieties of Guyanese: Indo,
Afro, Amerindian, Chinese, Portuguese, Mixed and Caucasian. They know this
better than anyone else. Typically, if you ask a Guyanese person about their
nationality they will tell you “I’m Afro Guyanese,” “I’m Indo Guyanese,” or “I’m
Amerindian Guyanese.” When you walk around in America, what do they say? “I’m
an American.” Yes, there are many beautiful shapes and colors of being
American, but in the culture as I have seen it, people recognize themselves as
Americans first. It saddens me to see a culture of people who have grown up
being told their race is a limitation, something to be ashamed of.
I
mentioned Camp GLOW which I attended recently. During a session, a brave woman
shared how their race has affected her negatively. She was told she was ugly,
weak, in some way wrong due to her
race. I was blown away. I cannot imagine the pain that such abuse has on a
person’s identity.
I’ve
heard a lot about race in the news lately. How many people have been killed by a
police officer who wouldn’t have been killed if they were another race? I can’t
keep track. I’m not here to debate who was right, that is not my concern. My
concern is how many people are dead, who didn’t need to die. My concern is how
many families will never be the same because their image of love, their
brother, sister, child, wife, or husband was taken away for something as
surface level as skin color. My concern is how many Americans begin waving
their confederate flags, or saying race related violence does not happen. It is
not a matter of opinion. It happens. People are killed who would not be killed
if they were a different race. By definition, that is what race related
killings are.
I
have seen the tag #blacklivesmatter floating around the internet of late, too.
My initial reaction was: do we need to have this hashtag? Doesn’t everyone know
black lives matter? The unfortunate answer seems to be that we, as a society,
as a world, need reminding that all lives matter. Regardless of color. I know
some people who would say that #blacklivesmatter is reverse racism. But is it? The
term reverse racism means a majority race has endured discrimination which is
has not previously experienced. Is this happening when people post about black
deaths? Are white people being
discriminated against when people are raising awareness of the high rate of
black deaths? To me, I don’t think so. But, everyone is permitted their own
opinion when it comes to what discrimination looks like. However, I think
awareness does need to be raised. There have been notably higher numbers of
black assault deaths than assault deaths in other races.
Photo
credit from: http://kieranhealy.org/blog/archives/2012/07/21/assault-deaths-within-the-united-states/
If
you don’t believe me, look it up. Please. Do the research and see for yourself.
Unfortunately this picture only gives data up to 2010, so it is very outdated.
But I think it still rings true. One of these things is not like the others.
I
was talking with one of my fellow PCVs the other day. She’s an American Black.
She was helping me redo my cornrows for GUY 27s swearing in ceremony and the
conversation of race came up. She asked me if I was proud of my race. Proud to
be white? Proud to be part of the race responsible for historically repressing
people? No, I can’t really say I am proud of that. I am proud of my family, of
my history, of my heritage. But my race? To be associated with the whole of
white people in the world? How many stories of repression begin with “The white
people did this”? I do not really want to be associated with a group of people
who treat other people as less than human. My race is a part of me, and I know
this, however I would rather people judge me based on the quality of my actions
than the color of my skin.
I
am white. Heterosexual. A woman. I have never had someone tell me I am ugly
because I’m white. Disgusting because of my sexual orientation. Can’t get this
job because there was someone “more qualified”. I have never had this happen.
But I know people who have. People who fall somewhere else on the LGBTQ
spectrum. People who aren’t dayglow white. People who go through their lives,
trying to find the love they know they should have for themselves, the love
other people are constantly crushing with their vile comments. I can’t say I
understand the struggle because it is not mine. But that does not mean I sit on
the sidelines. I have a voice to be heard. As do each of you. It begins with you.
Your friends. Your family. This is where racism can change. We are the change.
In
Peace Corps we talk a lot about change, how to improve things. That’s kind of
the point of Peace Corps. They throw around the word “grassroots” a lot.
Grassroots organizations. Grassroots development. What does this mean? This
means it is something which works from the bottom up. Starts with the “average
Joe” and works its way to the higher ups. I think the solution to racism lies
in the grassroots. In people developing friends of other races and realizing
they are more similar than different. In people having conversations in which
they realize the racial burdens they are carrying. In people facing their
racial prejudices and working to eliminate them. In people realizing that we
are all human. Human is human is human. And all humans need love. So, please,
consider this. Be the change. Look in yourself. You don’t need to tell anyone
what you find. But, please, the next time you hear someone say someone is less
of a human based on the color of their skin. Tell them it’s not true. And, more
importantly, show love, compassion to all of your fellow human beings. Even the
ones you disagree with. Even the ones who are different from you. Especially
those.
