Dad, That’s Racist!
Our daughter called out her father on his thoughtless remark because I was left speechless
There’s a reason that I, as a black woman, no longer discusses race with my husband, a white man. After thirty-plus years I know enough about the two of us to know we don’t see eye-to-eye on this subject, and probably never will.
Still, he managed to leave me speechless at dinner the other night, when a discussion during supper got out of hand.
At this point in the story, I intervened with the remark that I guess my husband couldn’t believe his white privilege wasn’t working for him.
He was telling myself and our seventeen-year-old daughter about a confrontation he’d had that day in a local shop. He said he’d gathered a few items to buy, then remembering he hadn’t picked up a newspaper, went to the door of the shop to step out to get a newspaper, which is kept on racks just outside the store.
The man behind the till stopped him, telling him he couldn’t leave the shop with goods he hadn’t yet paid for. My husband explained he was just stepping out for a newspaper, but the shop assistant insisted. My husband then got into an argument about how he was a regular in the store and lived locally, with the shop assistant saying that meant nothing to him because he didn’t know him.
At this point in the story, I intervened with the remark that I guess my husband couldn’t believe his white privilege wasn’t working for him.
Oh, here she comes, playing the race card, my husband retorted.
I pointed out that I was simply saying that, as a Black woman, I wouldn’t dream of walking out of a store with unpaid goods. Hell, I try to avoid walking close to the door; too many experiences of being shadowed by security guards down the years. He said race had nothing to do with it, I said I hadn’t said it had. And our argument descended into chaos from there.
I’m embarrassed to admit that even after three decades, neither of us knows when to shut up. After I made a comment about black people being killed with impunity by white policemen, my husband remarked he was sure that research would show more white people died at the hands of black people than vice versa.
As I stared at him in amazement, our daughter yelled the immortal words, “Dad, that’s racist.”
At least he had the good sense to look shamefaced.
All discussion ended there, and we left the dinner table shortly afterward.
One of my fundamental positions in life is that there is only one race — the human one. The demarcations of people into ‘races’ is a purely man-made one — a white man-manufactured one at that. You can call people Negroid, Caucasian, Mongoloid, and whatever-oid all you choose; we are all fundamentally one and the same species. This is a matter of genetics, and the way genes are spread is via reproduction.
The fact that all so-called races can reproduce together proves that race is a fallacy. Not only can we reproduce together, so can the children we create, and their children, and so on ad infinitum. This would be an impossibility were we not the same species.
Look at the reproductive pattern of any creature in the animal kingdom; different species either cannot breed together, or if they can — like the horse and donkey — their off-spring are infertile. And this is true of most cross-bred animals, even within the same sub-species, for example, lions and tigers.
Ergo, we humans are not different from another except in appearance, which is superficial.
End of biology lesson. (If you want to learn more, see the work of Anita Foeman and the DNA Discussion Project.)
The next morning, I came down to breakfast to find him poring over a Wikipedia page; he was looking up the young man I’d mentioned in my last IdeaStream — Leon Patterson, who had died in police custody.
This is terrible, he said, I think we need to make a donation to the family’s fund.
Sure, I agreed.
At some point, when we’re finally out of lockdown, I will raise the possibility of more counselling for us, specifically to discuss our different perspectives on race. He may agree, he may not. That’s not in my power to control.
If you’re reading this and are feeling as uncomfortable as I am writing it, know that these are not easy issues — we are human and we muddle on as best we can. That race is a social construct is a small consolation when we know it’s used to justify inequality in the world.
I know that my husband loves me, his Black wife, as well as his Black children, very much, and I know he struggles with his white privilege. While I toy with the idea of having the high ground, I know that I don’t really have that. My skin color is an accident of birth, just as it is for all of us. Being a Black woman doesn’t make me an expert on racism.
It would be too easy to see my husband’s remarks as ‘racist’ and unsayable. Yet, they were said, and in the heat of the moment, he may even have believed them.
But we all say things we really shouldn’t, at times, and no one needs to be castigated for making mistakes — or voicing their opinions.
A day later, I was watching a video of mixed-race singer Leona Lewis (who grew up in the area I live in now) talking about a racist encounter she and her father, a Black man, had in store. My husband wanted to know what had my attention, and I shared my headphones with him so he could hear. But he just couldn’t believe — even now, in the midst of all that is happening in the world — that Leona and her father were asked not to touch items in the shop while white folks around them were doing just that.
At some point, when we're finally out of lockdown, I will suggest that my husband and I go for counseling, specifically to discuss our different perspectives on racism. He may agree, he may not. That’s not in my power to control.
What is in my power is to keep the focus on myself, and keep doing the work that I need to stay true to myself, and authentic.
This includes writing and speaking out, staying involved in the BlackLivesMatter movement, and organizing and attending workshops around black feminism.
Change won’t come overnight but come it will.
©️marla bishop 2020
Marla Bishop is a relationship coach and writer: On medium.com she is the creator of Lilith and an editor of The Bad Influence. She lives in London UK with her family. You can follow her here.
