Me and White Supremacy : Day 10 Journal Questions
I’m leading a group discussion circle on “Me and White Supremacy” by Layla F. Saad. I’m taking the journaling challenge daily throughout February even though I’m not white. If you happen to be white, why not take the challenge? If I can do it, you can do it too.
Day 10 Questions (from the text):
1. Think about the country you live in. What are some of the national racial stereotypes — spoken and unspoken, historic and modern — associated with Black men?
2. How do you think about Black men who are citizens in your country differently from those who are recent immigrants?
3. What kinds of relationships have you had and do you have with Black men, and how deep are these relationships?
4. How have you treated darker-skinned Black men differently from lighter- skinned Black men?
5. What are some of the stereotypes you have thought and negative assumptions you have made about Black men, and how have they affected how you have treated them?
6. How have you excluded, discounted, minimized, used, tone policed, or projected your white fragility and white superiority onto Black men?
7. How have you fetishized Black men?
8. How much freedom do you give Black men in your mind to be complex and multilayered human beings?
- — -
I was at a friend’s surprise 50th birthday party a few years back hosted by his Black wife. She and I were the only two POC present in a crowd of several dozen people. At one point in the evening, as the party is in full swing, a white guy I’ve never seen approaches me. I can spot the large chip on his shoulder and his smug, confrontational expression from across the room as he makes a bee line to me in a way that demonstrates he has something to prove.
“Hey you.” he says so everyone in the room can hear. “How much land do you own?”
“What?” I ask, after a moment of bewilderment as to why someone I’ve never seen is asking me this.
“I said How much land do you own?”
“Do I know you?”
I try to walk away, but he follows me — insisting I tell him how much land I own as if we’re still living under the feudal system. So I tell him — mostly so that he’ll leave me alone. He doesn’t.
“I’ve got five acres.” he says boastfully, as though he expects me and the whole room to be impressed.
“Congrats?” I reply, as I’m not really sure what else to say. He tried to say something to me after that but I ignored or forgot it, and succeeded in moving away. He didn’t follow this time.
Here’s what I didn’t know in that moment:
A few minutes earlier, in an adjacent room, the hostess pulled out a bottle of rum labeled “Big Black D**k”. The bottle was dark brown glass, shaped more phallic than it needed to be. The label had a large brown skinned man dressed like a pirate, complete with shoulder parrot. Apparently this was a novelty item she brought back from a trip to the Caribbean. I can only guess this pirate’s name was Dick, and apparently she and the ladies in the other room had enjoyed a chuckle or two over this.
Well, apparently someone’s wife was laughing a little too hard — so her husband took it upon himself to try to reaffirm his masculinity by accosting the only Black guy present and initiating a pissing contest regarding land ownership. As it turns out, he did own more land than me, which I guess assuaged his ego enough for him to leave me alone so I could simply enjoy the party.
I’m telling this story not to elicit sympathy, but because it’s a great example of fetishizing, stereotyping, and an attempt at emasculation. Black men experience all of these at one time or another, but I had the misfortune of experiencing all of them within three minutes time, in front of a room full of friends.
Now — I’ve been stereotyped plenty. I’ve been fetishized, even by people I at one time trusted. I’ve had folks attempt to undermine my manhood on occasion. And that is unfortunate.
However these three things pale in comparison to how it feels to be continually feared by white people. This is the one that concerns me the most, because fear of Black men can, has, and will cost lives. Being feared by white people for simply existing is terrifying. And every time I witness someone who upon seeing me:
- clutches their purse
- gathers their children
- double checks to make sure their car is locked
- refuses to step into an elevator
- moves to the sidewalk on the other side of the street
- flinches or draws away
- screams out loud
…I think to myself that the ideas this person is harboring about me have the potential to get someone hurt or killed.
My father caught a bullet from a cop for simply being an innocent bystander in the wrong place at the wrong time. That happened four years before I was born. He survived, obviously, but I think how close I came to not even existing due to white fear of Black men.
I’m sure this man is thinking the same:
