That’s what he said
Not surprising, but Chuck Wendig is saying smart things again. Funny, I’ve been thinking about how to make a similar post of my own.
I struggle with the idea and the reality of -isms. I was raised by a single mom abandoned by her husband trying to support three kids. I’ve been raised by a middle class white man who thought throwing money around equaled good parenting. I’ve lived in a one bedroom house with holes in the floors with a $275 a month rent that we sometimes couldn’t afford. I’ve been given a job because I’m a woman, then put in a uniform way too small so my boss could oggle my breasts. I was told in high school I was one of the best and brightest, destined to Do Things, and Be A Person, while at home I was told I was a disgusting fat pimply cow who was single-handedly responsible of all the bad in my family’s life.
The first person I came out to responded with “Not you too!” then proceeded to tell me how so many girls were coming out to them they were tired of it because it cheapened them being “out of the closet”. I’ve been called greedy and a breeder when trying to walk at Pride with allies, been ridiculed by fellow pagans for not being as pagan as them, or not being anti-GMO/all organic/anti technology/etc as them.
The adults who raised me had preconceived notions about…everything. Largely it was religious, but it led to me living a lily-white life very very aware that other races were Other People. If they were good Christians they could be good people, but they were still not-like-us. That reinforced certain views on the world, whether the adults realized it or not. Then in the middle class/best and brightest world it was noticeable who was not included. There weren’t a lot of brown people in AP classes. There weren’t a lot in my middle class school period.
I went through a teen age phase were I was really into myths and legends and I exoticized everything. My characters (because I was writing then) were Egyptian and Asian and South American, or just white enough to kinda look like me, but exotic and beautiful and have a connection to cultures that seemed, well just to have so much more meaning than my own. (And I think that’s a natural stage because why in the hell would I have wanted to be more connected to my culture?)
Eventually that faded.
I dropped out of college, moved into the real world. Moved straight into the real world, as in I moved out of the middle class world and rather abruptly into a lower income neighborhood. I left “You are the best and brightest” and jumped into waiting in line at the food stamp office.
I dealt with a massive amount of shame that I failed what ended up being “white middle class” expectations of me. Then I started working in functioning instead of stewing and realized exactly how colorful the world is. And how true stereotypes can be when you have minute long interactions as the sole way to group people. Mostly I learned about the ones about “white trash” and “poor people”.
I encountered a lot of blatant racism for the first time. (Not to say that exclusion isn’t racism, just to day it’s not blatant.) Lots of “Oh this neighborhood is going down hill as it gets darker” mixed in with some outbreaks of shootings that mainly involved black victims, a little “angry mean black person” at stores and doctors and social aid offices and discussions about our city representative, a black woman who spends a lot of time working in that other section of town and getting improvements there, but seems to not realize the “whiter” section of town exists. Then there’s the time we were denied for food stamps for being white, the time a mob of 50 black kids were outside my house encouraging each other to fight, a stint in retail, a stint in retail in the rich section of town, self education, multiple conversations with Maurice Broaddus, gay friends, black friends, allies in child care, cohorts in dayjobbery, million small prejudices where I found myself on both sides of the fence…
What do I think? Everyone has prejudices. I jump to conclusions because of my experiences. I fear certain people more than others because of my past. I get stuck in absolutes and generalizations. I forget that not all men are the ones I grew up with. I forget that not all Christians are the ones I grew up with. I forget that not all black female social workers are the one that screamed at us that we should be ashamed for even asking for help.
There’s some good too. I forget that every black cop isn’t the one who came to my aid when I hydroplaned into a ditch a few years ago. I forget every redneck isn’t the one who gave me $100 to get my car pulled out. I forget that every gay man isn’t my friend Jimmy.
I think our brains are designed to jump to conclusions. It used to be how we survived, to try to quickly determine what was threat and what was important. What was worth fighting for, and what was unimportant. I think our brains alone push us toward -isms. I think we’re all struggling to relate to each other when we have entertainment, advertising and media who try to divide us into cliches so they can understand how to use us.
We have people who make money by triggering us, outraging us, scaring us. There are who industries who profit by composing a fear then selling us a protective cure. There are people who profit by convincing us we’re better than other people for X reason.
Our whole damn system is designed to create and foster prejudice and it’s impossible to escape.
I try. I try very hard to not let those sub thoughts turn into actions. I check and double check my fiction and my reading for fairness. I try to continue educating myself on issues, continuing to be aware of history and call bullshit bullshit.
I don’t know that I can accomplish anything, because I feel alone. I don’t know how I can not be immediately suspicious of any man larger than me. I don’t how I can be an ally for a black woman. I get resentful when someone tells me I have no right to an opinion on a topic because I don’t know how it is.
I want to do what’s right all the time. And yes, I want a damn cookie when I do good.
That’s not how the world works though.
Sometimes I can keep fighting this fight to be better. But I’m not a blank slate. I’m preloaded with racism, sexist, cisism, ablism, all of it. Sometimes I’m tired and I hate feeling ashamed and guilty. I hate being excluded from conversations when I’m just trying to help, I hate that my good deeds come without cookies. And sometimes it’s hard to not fight back against that with the same fervor that I try to fight for fairness.
Why am I even rambling? Because its important. It’s been important to me lately. It’s important that we keep trying and admit our failures, our weaknesses. And I need to remember to keep trying. Not to shut down and give up.