I feel black: Reflections on race at a PWI.
Original Publication Date: Mar 8, 2023
Before I came to America a few years ago, I had never been really conscious about my race. I grew up in Zimbabwe and I can count the number of white people I encountered my whole life living there.
The reality of America is that I was forced to come to terms with my blackness. I hardly walked around thinking about my race. If there were ever things about my identity that I was ever highly conscious of, my race was the last on the list. I never assumed that any outcome of the things I desired or interacted with could be at all tied to my blackness.
There is a simple obvious answer to this oblivion. It’s the same realization that a white person might come to when they go to Africa and are suddenly in a room densely populated by only black Africans. We perceive our racial identity through the lens of what people around us see or identify us as first.
My college experiences at a predominantly white institution, PWI, have been very introspective, to say the least. Let me paint you a scenario. Imagine you’re the only black, African person in a class of white people and the topic of discussion is colonialism, slavery, racism, wealth distribution etc al. For many, this is nothing new. Well, that’s my story too. Back in Africa, these conversations were often had from a position of victimhood. Not to say all we discussed was perceiving Africans as entire victims who cannot do anything to uplift themselves from the abject misgivings of yesteryear trauma. However, there was consensus that history was a harsh experience for the Africans. The feelings echoed by my fellow classmates were often from a place of relatable frustration with the status quo after the unfortunate wounds of the past.
The aura in the room is different in a PWI. The reflections on the material from students, as far as my experience has been concerned, are feelings of remorse, anger, confusion, guilt, you know, just the usual. From the classes I attended, what all the students seem to openly agree on is that colonialism, slavery, and racism, as a consequence of the former, are all inhuman acts that need not have occurred. And the reality of American structural racism and oppression of minorities should be addressed. Fair.
In a lecture where I’m maybe the only person perceived as the most affected party by the topic of discussion, I find myself questioning the authenticity of these emotions. I know that people really feel the way they do truthfully, but I cannot help but feel the way I do. I’m trying to dissect why that is the case. I once read a book called Freakonomics a long time ago. In that book, the author states that we are compelled by incentives to do whatever we choose to do. In, “The Subtle Art of not giving a fuck” another book by Mark Manson, the same idea is conveyed. We choose our battles, struggles, or our mere life choices based on the gains to be amassed from the pursuit in question.
What incentive is there for people who are not direct victims of that history to try and create a better world? Of course, we cannot discount the great strides already being taken by the powers that be to try and restructure the disingenuous past for a better world. We live in a better world than we did a hundred years ago and that’s impressive.
Isabel Wilkerson describes a rogue man in a photograph that was taken in Hamburg, Germany, in 1936. In her book, ‘Caste: the origins of our discontents’, the man is described as surrounded by fellow citizens who happen to be saluting in the Nazi way, probably hailing Hitler himself. Unlike the rest of the crowd, he instead keeps his arms folded to his chest. Isabel introduces this great book using a story about this brave man. If not to read the whole book, just the very first part is a good place to start. She then goes on to say,
“In a totalitarian regime such as that of the Third Reich, it was an act of bravery to stand firm against an ocean. We would all want to believe that we would have been him. We might feel certain that, were we Aryan citizens under the Third Reich, we surely would have seen through it, would have risen above it like him, been that person resisting authoritarianism and brutality in the face of mass hysteria. We would like to believe that we would have taken the more difficult path of standing up against injustice in defense of the outcast. But unless people are willing to transcend their fears, endure discomfort and derision, suffer the scorn of loved ones and neighbors and coworkers and friends, fall into disfavor of perhaps everyone they know, face exclusion and even banishment, it would be numerically impossible, humanly impossible, for everyone to be that man. What would it take to be him in any era? What would it take to be him now?”
That picture speaks to me a lot. It challenges my morality because I know that in a world where the highest incentive was to conform to authoritarian rule, I would never have been that man. Neither of us would have been him. It was not fashionable to be him. And this is my general feeling. In those lessons where we delve deeply into those issues, I feel like most people have become good at crafting arguments that are fashionable for the general perception of a ‘good person’ in this climate. It is wise to appear politically correct but that does not entail any responsibility unless one chooses to take some for themselves. Because, if the way we feel towards issues about race, religion, minorities, and other intersectionalities only counted with accompanying significant responsibility the gatekeeping of forms of equality and social justice would be less pronounced. But that’s hardly the case. Maybe, creating a world where there are fewer incentives for being an oppressor by any form or system, could be the answer. That’s a utopia.
The danger is to raise the metrics unfairly for parties who may be born into structures that are naturally considered positions of privilege. I don’t believe that explains my feelings and I don’t wish that to be the case here.
It is also okay to feel bad about the history that we had no part in but are now left to succumb to its ravages. I also think it is beautiful that we can even have progressive discourse about these issues in public setups and hope to make tomorrow a better world. But I also believe it is very sad if what we do is only have conversations and more conversations. Compliments to everyone who feels and sees great incentive in trying to make the world a better place.
I have never felt so black the way I do and that’s okay. I believe the circumstances are different from a place where race is hardly an origin for discontent. Change must be embraced and I’m learning to embrace it.
I have been thinking about this lately so just had to write what I feel.
Background Punctuation: Isibuko by Sjava(This is Sjava playlist on Spotify)