Racism Is A Tale Of Two Scars
The unbearable slightness of healing.
A couple of months ago, a friend of mine was nearly blinded by a sequence of minor coincidences:
- She woke up a little later than usual, so instead of putting in her contact lenses, she grabbed an old pair of glasses.
- The lenses kept fogging up because she wasn’t used to wearing them with a face mask.
- Struggling to see where she was going, she tripped and fell, landing face-first on the aforementioned glasses.
The frames snapped in half, and one of the pieces pierced the skin just below her eyebrow, carving upwards from there.
If the frames had sliced downwards or a fraction to the right, she’d have lost an eye. If she had more experience with the glasses/face mask combo, she’d have been able to see where she was going. If she’d worn her contact lenses, as usual, she’d have gotten away with a few bruises.
Instead, she was left with two scars.
The first is the scar that I see; a small, dark crease that’s about as long as my thumbnail. Its position next to her eyebrow makes it look more like a frown line than a scar, and because I only see it occasionally, it’s healed surprisingly quickly. It’s already subtle enough that while it doesn’t look like it’s meant to be there, I barely notice it.
The scar my friend sees is different; an unsightly, permanent reminder of a day she’d rather forget. Its position next to her eyebrow means she catches its reflection in every mirror, and because she sees it every day, it seems to heal agonisingly slowly. It’s not the only thing she notices when she looks at herself, but ever since that day, it’s the first.
Neither of us is wrong about what we see, but neither of us is right either.
So while I’m grateful that it wasn’t worse, she’s frustrated that it isn’t better. While I assure her that nobody is staring, she notices each lingering glance. While I describe how it looks from the outside, she explains how it feels from the inside.
Meanwhile, the scar heals more slowly than either of us would like. Sadly, that’s the only way scars know how to heal.
Four-score and seven years after her birth, America was nearly torn apart by racism. Though in this case, it could hardly be called a coincidence.
Conceived as a nation indivisible with liberty and justice for all, and founded on the belief that all men are created equal (sorry ladies), she repeatedly failed to extend these rights to her black citizens. This gap between ideals and reality eventually led to Civil War.
If the South had won that war, the United States would have ceased to exist. If America had kept her promises to the newly-freed slaves, perhaps those unequal foundations wouldn’t linger 150 years later. If she’d recognised sooner that separate was far from equal, the divisions we see today might have been avoided.
Instead, those wounds left many different scars.
Some see the scar everywhere. In every innocent gesture and imperfectly chosen word. They tell themselves that pointing it out at every conceivable (and inconceivable) opportunity is empowering instead of debilitating, and selfless instead of self-centred.
For others, the scar is a mirage. A relic found in history books and long-defunct laws. A problem that would go away if only everyone would just stop talking about it. Racism is so far from their experience that while it doesn’t exactly look like it’s meant to be there, they barely notice it.
For some, the wound is subtle. They see it in family histories that end abruptly in the 1870s and surnames that serve as permanent reminders that their ancestors were property. They feel it in the disapproving glances of new family members and the unspoken barriers between would-be friends.
And there are those for whom it’s still raw. They catch its reflection in the de facto segregation in their neighbourhoods and schools, and their treatment at the hands of those sworn to protect them . They hear it in the battles their parents and grandparents had to fight and feel it in those that still haven’t been won.
None of them are wrong about what they see (okay…some of them are wrong), but none of them are right either.
So while some point out how far America has come, others remind them that there’s still further to go. While some insist that black and white people will never understand each other, others prove that we already can. While some spew fear and hatred, others teach us how to defeat it.
Meanwhile the scar heals, but more slowly than it needs to. After all, wounds can’t heal when they’re being pulled apart.
The problem with scars is that, by definition, they never completely heal. There’s no clear-cut line between injured and mended. They never look the same from the outside as they feel from the inside. There’s nothing you can say to make somebody who bears a scar forget it’s there.
Instead, there comes a point when a scar has healed enough.
In one form or another, all of our disagreements about racism are about figuring out where that point lies. And as with all difficult problems, it’s easier to criticise the other side for getting it wrong than it is to figure out what’s right.
But it should be clear that the people who claim that racism is everywhere are just as deluded as those who pretend it no longer exists. The people who refuse to talk about race are just as useless as those who refuse to listen. The people who judge individuals by the colour of their skin are just as harmful as those who…well, who judge individuals by the colour of their skin.
Healing requires many things, from without and within. It requires recognition of the injury. It requires treatment. It requires empathy. But it also requires a shift in the way we look at ourselves. It requires the recognition that being angry doesn’t always make us right. It requires a willingness to look at the world from a perspective other than our own.
And if we get all of that right, the scar will heal, but more slowly than any of us would like. Sadly, that’s the only way scars know how to heal.
This article was inspired by the smart, savvy and sophisticated subscribers at The Commentary. Want to join them? Sign up here.
