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Indeed, Color Counts
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"You're okay," the clerk said to me last month, when I offered my driver's license as identification for a check I had written at a nearby card shop. The purchase had totaled just over twenty dollars, and the clerk didn't even glance at my i.d. On one hand, the ease of such a simple transaction was a welcomed convenience. On the other hand, with the remark "You're okay," I felt I had once again unwittingly benefited from something called white skin privilege. I asked myself if my neighbor, a dark-skinned African American, would have had the same easy time of it. I doubt it, judging from the experiences of some of my friends of color. White privilege is not something I have asked for, nor am I comfortable with it. But it is a reality that those of us with white racial identity need to be aware of, in order to confront the injustices that are part of the daily experience of dark-skinned people. Here are just a few examples of my own acquaintance with unearned advantages of being white. When my son was a youth, I did not have to warn him about the danger of being accused of theft if he ran through the neighborhood. I am confident that in a difficult school situation, my granddaughter's skin color would not work against her in getting a fair hearing. If a police officer pulls me over, I can be sure I haven't been singled out because of my color. I can wear old clothes to church or other public places without being labeled as poor. I can expect to see people of my color pictured in religious art or portrayed in stories from scripture. The Holy Family in the Christmas crèche will not look foreign to me. In group discussions I am not expected to be the authority on "the white community," nor explain the behavior or attitudes of all people with white racial identity. Someone may comment on my abilities, shortcomings, or track record without ever mentioning my skin color or ethnicity. I can be sure that if I need medical help, my skin color will not work against me. If my week is going badly, I don't find a need to ask myself if each negative situation has racial overtones. Here is a story of how that last example plays out in the day-to-day. My neighor DeBorah (not her real name) is a pharmaceutical rep, and works out of her home office. She is African American. "I am simply furious," she fumed last week as we shared a few moments in the back yard. She had just gotten off the phone from a conversation with her Chicago-based supervisor, who is white. "He is coming to St. Louis, and says he wants to see my home and where I live. What does that have to do with anything?" Indeed, what is behind such an expectation? I put the question to you, the reader. Do you think her supervisor makes the same request of his company reps who are white? It is a real stretch to imagine that he would put that expectation on a rep who is both white and male. Robert Terry, a white ally in the work for racial justice, once said, "To be white is to never have to think about it." These examples of white privilege put meat on the bones of this statement. And they also highlight why the work for racial justice needs to be done right here in North County -- in our families, our neighborhoods, our schools, and in our churches. God's call to justice and reconciliation is our call. Doing the work through our common Covenant is one of the blessings of being engaged with each other through North County Churches Uniting for Racial Harmony and Justice. Let us strengthen our resolve for North County to be, as our vision statement states, "a vibrantly diverse and inclusive community, flourishing in an environment of dignity, justice, and racial harmony." Ronice Branding, Church of the Master United Church of Christ, Florissant Roni is a consultant and author. Her books for congregations include "Peacemaking: The Journey from Fear to Love," and "Fulfilling the Dream: Confronting the Challenge of Racism." Return to: |