Making Whitness Visisble- seeing a real world.

The American dream told us everyone could live in a two-story house with red shutters and a white picket fence just tall enough to keep a small dog from bothering the joggers as they pass by on a sunny afternoon. This fence was never meant to be higher than a six-foot mans waist because it was meant to be more inviting than uninviting to the neighbors. The American dream, held accountable by the 57 revolutionists as they signed there devotion to this country, holding “these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” I always had a sense of satisfaction knowing among these great men, my ancestor, Samuel Huntington of Connecticut, signed his name and beliefs on the line of such a life-changing document. Unfortunately, I find myself coming to realization these men did not have an understanding of what “these truths” actually were in their entirety. When they said “all men” they meant all white males who own property. I believe they failed in saying among our rights are, “Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness.” This requires our nation to have faith in the system, a belief in meritocracy, a level playing field were if one works hard they can achieve their dreams. This “pull myself up by my bootstraps” ideology is embedded in our nation, a nation that sets a people up for failure when yielding to this idea.

Born and raised in the United States, I received a standard education in South Dakota, an education that led me to believe our nation had learned from our repulsive history in mistreatment of people due to cultural backgrounds. I was taught in such a way, I believed racism was a thing of the past, a mountain to a molehill. Regrettably, South Dakota is not blessed with significant diversity; therefore, I hardly knew anyone with a rich background extremely different from my own. Once I graduated I had the opportunity to leave South Dakota and attend college at BYU-Idaho were I was finally exposed to a world of greater diversity.

I was able to meet Kendrick Som (Satola), who showed me a reality I never knew before. We became inseparable, and I was able to see how people treated my American-Cambodian friend. Kendrick was beautiful, and embraced his family history with confidence, explaining his family history to me, sharing his culture and beliefs freely. I found myself jealous of his rich heritage as I realized my ancestors traveled from Switzerland and Germany, assimilating quickly, sacrificing what they once knew to be accepted by the new world around them. My ignorance blocked my curiosity of my own history because I never felt connected to it. As my friendship with Kendrick developed I began to take interest in my own heritage, and discovered the differences between our families, my family benefited due to white privilege and his did not. I have always appreciated our differences and found them beautiful, but not everyone has this understanding.

I found myself constantly irritated with others as they met Kendrick, and immediately upon introduction they would look at him and say, “What are you?” This question still makes me cringe because it is completely distasteful, rude, and ignorant. Kendrick dealt with this question better than I could as he would politely reply “American.” This was always followed by a smirking response and a “Really though, what are you?” Years have passed and Kendrick and I are both in different places now, but I have frequently reflected on this experience, and feel the root of this question is found in ignorance.

The video, “Making Whiteness Visible” I found a challenge directed at me, a person with white privilege; it inquired what I was going to do with this privilege? The concept of white privilege never felt threatening; I never felt distain or the need to shout back that I was not privileged, denying the existence of this idea. It made sense, I had experienced it first hand as people accepted me for who I was and questioned Kendrick. I noticed it as a friend of mine relayed a story and made a specific reference to the man crossing the street as a “black man” crossing the street. There was no need for this specification; yet, it made me realize people I felt were rational non-biased thinkers make mistakes and have ingrained tendencies toward racism, pointing out differences without even being aware of it. It makes it feel hopeless sometimes, because racism, sexism, ageism, etc.etc. is rooted so deeply, not only consciously, but subconsciously as well.

I cannot change my whiteness, but I have a responsibility to create awareness in others, an awareness that racism does exist, even in those who do not believe they have a problem. I have to help those ignorant people understand they may still have racist tendencies. It is a constant battle for everyone, black, white, green, or blue. We have to understand one another, listen carefully to each other’s concerns, face a past and present together. We cannot deny people from their mistrust, and right to be angry because the injustices forced upon them as a people and individuals. We have to set a standard to live by as a united people, and get through the anger and confront our relevant problem, accepting its existence, and smacking it back to a thought only to be remembered and understood, to never let happen again.

One woman in the video confided she woke up every morning and told herself she was a black woman. I have never woke up and thought to myself, I am a white woman because my surroundings have never made me think twice about it. This could be our problem; maybe I should wake up and say, I am a white woman with a responsibility to help build a better world of true equality. The 57 revolutionists wrote a preface to a dream, a dream where “little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.” I believe we can have this day.

better better better

This is how it works, it feels a little worse, laughing up a storm. I have no idea how many times i have had to say, "wait, start over, i was distracted." Then you breathe a sigh of relief and start again, only this time with a little smile in your voice because my honestly was appreciated. Sometimes, I am probably to honest, but you are too. Sometimes I just do not want to know what you are thinking, I wish i did. I mean, your thoughts should be your own anyway right? No, they are much better said, it just hurts sometimes. The truth tends to hurt, the full honest truth. How do you tell someone what you are thinking when you can't get the voices in your head to agree on something to say? They meet around their round table and discuss what my brain's next move should be, but as most political agendas, it took to long so my heart already said it, and with to much honesty again. Can't these guys just get a hold of my heart and give it a nice slab on the wrist. My heart would probably still love them, and invite them for tea. That is not right, my heart does not like tea, this makes things very interesting.

I decided recently that I am a beautiful, empowered woman, with so much to offer this world. I may have my grace period at this time, but one day i will love somebody fully, and take that one foot stationed on the ground and lift it high as i float away. I hear so much in this head of mine and it breaks my heart that I should not be able to have what I want most. I suppose one day we would understand though. Just kiss me sweetly and softly. It will all get better soon.