This is part of a series of suggested essays from Dkos exploring the issues set out in Denise Oliver Velez’s diary this Sunday Race and Racism: Barriers and Bridges.
One of the joys of returning after a week’s absence is to see that the issue of racism on this site and further afield has come into sharper focus. As I explained in my boycott diary, race is not everything, but anti-racism has been key to my political awakening and adult life.
But enough of that. In this diary I’m writing as a straight middle aged white man, and I want to explore what it’s like – as a straight middle aged white man – to be called a racist.
This is something the majority of commenters on Kos must have feared, experienced and witnessed – and a bit of self analysis on our reaction to that is probably overdue.
AYCMAR: Are you Calling me a Racist?
It’s one of the successes of the last half century of Civil Rights and Anti-Racism that the epithet ‘racist’ is so horrendous that even the far right refuse to accept they are racist. That means that, in terms of public discourse, any overt form of judgement made on the basis of someone’s ethnic background is generally deemed to be idiotic and wrong. Let’s remind ourselves that this is a victory in itself. Early last century racial theories were rife on both right and left (e.g. from H.G. Wells to T. S. Eliot) and completely acceptable.
So it’s worth pondering the fact that to be called a racist is deemed to be taboo and terrible slur on someone’s character. It wasn’t always this way.
However, one side effect of this social disapproval is the over-reaction and sensitivity about charges of racism from the majority white community. I’ve noticed this time and time again while trying to explore the role of race in both the UK and US. Whether it was discussing Obama’s primary run on MYDD, or the rise of Islamophobia in the UK, the same quick reaction comes from my interlocutors when I’ve been speaking in general and non-personal terms:
Are you calling me a racist?
I’ve seen this happen to myself and others, when the idea the other person was a racist was the furthest from my mind. I can only put this down to the verboten quality of any racial presuppositions, a kind of silence which breeds guilt, extreme projection and misunderstanding. However, while it’s difficult talking about our racial assumptions, NOT talking about them only seems to make matters worse.
So in that spirit of actually talking calmly and rationally about these things, as Denise began in her diary and as others have started to do in other groups, let me explore the moment when I was, rather publicly, called a racist, and my reactions to it.
Libel Case: When I got Called a Racist in Print
First off, let me start by saying that everyone has at times in their life made racist comments of some sort. I don’t hold a racist comment to necessarily betoken a racist attitude: we all make mistakes and can learn from them. I’m absolutely certain I’ve held certain racist, anti-semitic and homophobic opinions over my half century on this earth, and I’ll never be entirely free of them. So this is not some white guy trying to be holier than thou, but about getting beyond the personal insult to the bigger political issue.
So it happened about five years ago. I was at a reunion of some college friends, staging a reading of some Beckett pieces, when one of the guys hauled out a book that had recently been published by one our peer group: Dominic Dromgoole’s : Will and Me: How Shakespeare took Over My Life. I’d barely known the guy, but we’d be in the same touring production of Romeo and Juliet through Europe one winter in the early 80s. We were all intrigued when we saw the book had several chapters on his student days. To be honest, the account seemed rather self serving, because Dominic appeared to be reinventing himself as some left-wing tribune of the people in this college days, when he was very posh, wore waistcoats, and was known as the son of some big TV mogul.
Anyway, it was all fine, and we enjoyed his account of his college productions, though there was some scores clearly being settled. Dominic did not get on with the director of Romeo and Juliet, and said so. Problem is: I was a friend of the director, and without being named directly, I was associated with him. Dominic wrote a long tirade against what we both apparently stood for, and said we were both from:
“deeply English, vaguely racist background”
I was stunned, for obvious reasons. Dominic and I hardly knew each other, but if he’d asked (then or subsequently) he would have found out that I’m the grandson of an Armenian refugee, and two Welsh grandmothers. If we’d ever discussed the issue of race, he would have soon learned that ant-racism was my deepest political motive at the time (I’d marched past skinheads giving Nazi salutes in the Rock Against Racism rally and concert in London’s East End a couple of years previously). He would also have known that my kid brother, fostered and then adopted in 1970 when he was five, was half Bajian and half Scottish, and always identified as black (apart from the many many worse epithets he received from others at the time).
One of the friends present suggest I contact a libel lawyer. I pondered for a while. But not only was I annoyed, I thought the guy was a jerk in his self-serving depiction of his past. I wanted to prove him wrong in public. I also thought I could make a little money from it – not for me I hasted to add. I am also the director of an orphanage in Kenya, Kenya Children’s Centres, and we were desperate for cash at the time to move the 12 or so girls we were looking after at that point, away from a rental in the rough part of Thika, and build brand new premises on the edge of town.
I spoke on a no-win no fee basis to a top media lawyer. He found it a fascinating case. The two initial key points were:
1. Was I identifiable?
2. Could I prove damages?
Well, I wasn’t named in the book: but I was active in drama in Cambridge in the early 80s, along with Tilda Swinton, Stephen Fry, Hugh Laurie, Emma Thompson, Hugh Bonneville, Simon Russell Beale, Jo Scanlan, plus a host of now directors, journalists and then critics. They would certainly know who I was without being named.
As for damages. Apart from the family and personal connections (as well as my kid brother being black, my older brother married a Kikuyu woman) there was my professional history, both dealing with the subject of race in my work, and collaborating with the likes of late lamented Anita Addison in the the US, and a friend and regular collaborator with the top black British comedian/actor Lenny Henry in the UK (perhaps the first black person to gain mainstream status in the UK). I was also about to work with Adrian Lester, a Shakespearean Americans might know best from Primary Colours.
Goddamn it; if those people thought I was a racist, it could ruin my career.
The lawyer thought I had a good case and would talk to ‘counsel’ (a senior barrister who presents the case in court). I was getting o
n my high horse now, and ready to put the world to rights. I’d raise thousands for the children’s home, and humiliate this idiot in court. A few weeks later, counsel came back with a third question
Those people to whom you are identifiable – would they believe the racist accusation?
And there it was. The huge hole in my case. No, no-one who could recognise this would believe it for one instant. Most knew my background. They could see from my face I wasn’t deeply English at all. It was absurd. And because the loose claim wasn’t credible, there we no damages accrued.
So what’s the moral of this funny little case of bad writing and personal pique? It’s worth repeating in terms of blogging. Charges of racism are only truly libelous if a) you’re identifiable and b) they are credible
So: What to do if You Feel you’re being Called a Racist?
I think this is worth bearing in mind when we discuss race on these boards. From my perspective, I’ve seen discussion of race derailed time and time again, because people take the exploration of white privilege as some kind of personal attack, and misread all the comments accordingly. As a result, the sense of libel and smear merely amplifies: those who discuss racism are now accused of being ‘reverse racists’ or merely using the discussion to silence dissent, or any criticism of a black president.
This is the way the flame wars have perpetuated, and got to this parlous point on this vitally important progressive blog.
To help stop this cycle, take a leaf out of someone else’s experience. If you feel you are being called a racist, perhaps the first thing to do is to look again.
Is the commenter actually saying you’re a racist? Perhaps they’ve talked about racism more generally? Maybe they are suggesting insensitivity – hardly the same as hatred. Perhaps – at the worst – they’re saying your language is insensitive or racist (we all make mistakes).
Then what if someone is calling you a racist? Is it worth thinking about it.
Maybe you do have some blindspots. Maybe you find yourself so sick about discussions of race that you demean it. Maybe the other person is angry and being a blowhard.Or maybe you’re over-reacting. And over-reaction is usually a sign of some kind of unresolved painful thought. When something gets to me, I think… why. It’s worth talking about that
Remember: accusations of racism are only damaging if they’re credible and you’re identifiable. Even more importantly, it’s pretty damaging to be accused of ‘playing the race card’ too. Race isn’t a game, and as Meteor Blades said in a diary of mine: accusations of racism without evidence are wrong. But so too are accusations of accusations of racism
So my advice: check the anger and feeling of being accused at the door. Look at what you said, and what the person said back. Beware of misreadings. And beware of over-reaction.
Summary: My Privilege
I do understand that both as a Brit who hasn’t had to live in a country where racism is quite the Original Sin (we have plenty of our own) I have some unfair advantages in this discussion. I’m also acutely aware that I could be using my mixed race background, and professional and personal comfort with people of colour as a kind of weapon against the vast white majority (a rather shrinking majority though) who don’t have the advantage of such a diverse family background.
I’m really sorry if it comes across like that. For years it wasn’t easy having this background, but I was always proud of it. Now I consider it an amazing gift that opened my eyes to the experience of non white people in a predominantly white country. That’s probably why most my friends have mixed backgrounds, and the subjects of Anti Semitism and Islamophobia are equally close to my heart.
But this kind of diversity of experience is open to you, here, now. Though their numbers have diminished of late, there are plenty of diaries and commenters here on Kos with a background which can help open your eyes to how things are seem from other perspectives. It’s never too late to open your mind. Don’t let the fear of some vague accusation close it down.
Don’t be afraid. Make mistakes. That’s the only way we learn. And use this amazing resource which can connect you immediately to others outside the orbit of your usual experience.
Cheers.
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