Today, I Found Out I Was A Racist

A great example of how not to make friends and influence people (on Medium)

Today, I experienced the freedom of speech first-hand: anyone can write anything about you on Medium, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Here it goes.

If you haven’t read my work, it’s usually light-hearted or humorous and revolves around anecdotes of my and my Danish husband’s life in America vs. Europe. But the article to cause a stir was a serious piece listing issues that made me want to raise our daughter outside of the U.S.

A new-to-Medium writer of color took this as an inspiration to write her own piece about “racist white writers” on Medium where she accused me of being one of them, because I didn’t mention racial injustice on my list of grievances (she was not interested in an explanation when I tried to offer it).

A woman who has never met me, knows nothing of my life, hasn’t read my work beyond one piece, and has certainly never seen any negative attitude from me toward people of color was now telling the world I was a racist. More haters who knew nothing of me jumped on the bandwagon and left nasty comments bashing my “white privilege.”

Do I think the author cares about racial issues? For sure. Is she being a part of the solution? I don’t think so, but you tell me.

The woman went as far as saying that I told her to “stay in her (black) corner on Medium,” which was how she understood my suggestion to read other writers’ work, not mine (a comment I give to many readers who dislike my writing).

The clickbait worked, and the piece gained some traction. For a new writer this seemed like a good move. But was it, really?

If spreading and provoking negativity is a new way to build a following on Medium, I want nothing to do with it. Life is simply too short for toxicity.

So here’s what I learned about myself, privileges, and the U.S. in the last twenty four hours.

I have white privilege

Doesn’t every white person? Some have less, some (like my Danish husband) have more. Does that make our opinions invalid? I hope not.

Also, aren’t there different privileges to be had?

I’m white, but I was born poor in a poor country I later fled. In my first two years in New York, I worked some of the shittiest lowest-paid jobs the city had to offer, and I didn’t even mind (I was in America!). My friends were as diverse as the A train during rush hour. No white educated American in NYC would take a job like mine, so I knew none of them. My best friend was a black French girl who moved to the U.S. to escape racism. She didn’t own a chair because she didn’t “want to get too comfortable in life.” We never talked about race, only about “how to make it in America.” She died of a heart attack at 30. I think of her all the time.

I couldn’t see my father for ten years or attend my grandmother’s funeral. I swept my feelings under the rug like everyone else in my position. White people with American degrees and office jobs looked like Gods to me. Later, it took me three years to get into a good graduate school. That’s where I saw white privilege in action up close. There, I met yet another black girl who died young, just as I was about to visit her in Germany. Her decease affected many black women, I learned.

My white privilege didn’t help me when I was thrown in jail in a foreign country for a crime I have not committed. It didn’t help my brother either when he almost died in one war and now might be forced to fight in another. It didn’t help my parents when they failed to get U.S. visas to visit their first and only grandchild. And it didn’t help them when their country declared war, making any international travel nearly impossible. After twenty years, I’m still dreaming of having my family close.

Sure, my life could have been much worse, but it could have been better. Being born with an American passport and a democratic government might seem like a given to many, but to people like me, that’s a privilege we never had.

Yet in my writing, I choose to focus on the funny things in life. At least for now. Call it a coping mechanism or racism, I don’t care.

But please, fellow writers, don’t be so quick to assume and attack. Ask first. Try to have a dialogue. Don’t trash other writers’ work. What goes around comes around.

No matter what you say (or don’t say), you could be called a racist

Most of my Medium pieces are either comedic or light-hearted because I choose to focus on the funny moments in life. Even my moaning ends with a joke. Once in a while I get accused of overestimating Europe (a fair point I’m willing to discuss) or staying in the U.S. for no (apparent to the reader) reason.

But a racist? That’s a first.

Ironically, the accusing author missed the part of the article where I said I wanted to leave the U.S. because it was impossible to say anything without offending someone these days. Not saying anything is also offensive, I found out.

It’s attacks like these that make me not want to write about racial (or other serious) issues on Medium. I don’t care for conflict. Life is too short for that. I don’t care for toxicity. And I’m certainly no expert on anything beyond the prices of croissants in the U.S. vs. Europe.

And If I did talk about black people’s struggle, I’m sure the author in question would be the first to point out that a white-privileged European girl like me has no right to talk about racial injustice.

There’s a lot of hatred in the U.S.

If it’s not obvious yet, there’s a lot of hate going around in the United States. So much hate that it makes me turn off the news, shut down the New York Times, and stop reading Medium.

I’ve never been the one to engage in heated discussions or arguments. I was a bullied kid and an insecure adult. I’m hypersensitive to stimulation, both physical and mental. Yet in the U.S., there’s no escaping it. Those issues are as real to me, and to many people with mental health problems, as race issues are to the above-mentioned author. But does anyone in America have the empathy to understand another person’s struggles? Not a bit.

Instead, we point fingers, yell, slap angry stickers on cars, bash other writers on Medium, or just plain old shoot each other.

We are just so on edge that the whole country can explode with rage at any moment.

To conclude my thoughts: racism is real. And so is white privilege.

But can hateful beliefs be changed with more hate? You tell me.

P.S. Please, understand that if you post a hostile comment, you may be blocked from further engagement. Opinions given in a respectful manner are welcome.

Thank you for reading.