Maybe it’s because we’re in the middle of an election year – and television “news” programs can’t muster any analysis beyond the superficial and frivolous. Maybe it’s because one of my grad school classes this quarter is on working with diverse groups of students. Or maybe it’s because I have been thinking a lot about my writing and activism and wondering how to communicate more meaningfully with the rest of the world. Whatever the cause, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about a letter to the editor I wrote a couple years ago at my alma mater. You can find a more complete description on my “Turkey and Racism” post, but allow me to share a summary and some discussion.
On December 1, 2006, Leah Marshall wrote an editorial in The Tack arguing that viewing Thanksgiving in the context of racism in U.S. history, specifically the oppression and genocide of indigenous peoples by European colonists and their descendants, is inappropriate. Leah rejected attempts to confront this unpleasant history – in the editorial she targeted a schoolteacher who conducted a classroom activity questioning the legitimacy of Manifest Destiny. Reading her article (which is now unavailable online following an overhaul on the newspaper’s web site), it seems clear that Leah prefers a Thanksgiving holiday of friends, family, and food, sans politics. I suspect many other Americans – of varying races and ethnicities – share that sentiment.
I found Leah’s article disturbing, not because I was shocked by, or even because I could not relate to, her emphasis on keeping holiday festivities personal and not political. While for any activist this alleged distinction between personal and political is muddy at best, I certainly identify with the joy of coming together with family and friends (and putting political matters aside, whatever that means). What struck me initially was the casualness with which she dismissed the history of racism in this country. Indigenous peoples being kicked off their land, lied to, stripped of their culture, raped, tortured, murdered, and systematically robbed of their humanity… all by European colonists we would later identify as “White,” whose descendants continue to benefit from the mass extermination of indigenous peoples. I understood why Leah, as a white person, might be inclined to distort or ignore these facts. But I was not prepared to see her terribly irresponsible message published, at least not without some sort of rebuttal. In my dream world, I anticipated that Leah’s article would prompt a flood of critical letters – nope, just mine.
In my response to Leah’s article, I began by stating, “It should be no secret that the way we make sense of our history as a society – for instance, what history we choose to acknowledge – is an expression of our politics. In her editorial about the history of Thanksgiving in last week’s Tack, Leah Marshall aligned herself with White supremacist politics.” Regarding the feedback I received on my letter, I can only conclude that many, many readers stopped reading there. Those who continued reading learned that I view Thanksgiving and the myths surrounding it as “selective storytelling” by (and for) White Americans. They also pondered questions about what the history of racism in this country means to us today, what responsibilities it bestows upon us (especially privileged groups), and how we might work toward social justice. Finally, readers accepted, or at least considered, my challenge to “confront a tragedy that extends far beyond genocide – the tragedy of a group of people who deliberately hide the history of racism in America, and in doing so, perpetuate it.“
The popular interpretation of my letter, which fostered loads of hate mail, threats, and even hate groups on Facebook (yeah, that was a new one for me), was that I believed that Leah was clearly a member of the KKK, that she was evil, and perhaps most importantly, that I took some sort of sick pleasure in labeling her as such. After all, that’s what we progressive activists do – we’re regulators and fun-haters, and we have nothing better to do than to demonize people who think differently than we do. Right?
In reality, as I attempted to clarify in my email to Leah and Tack management (and during a follow-up meeting), my point was merely that, by arguing that we ought not fret over what Whites have done historically to Native Americans, Leah was aligning herself with a viewpoint that the dominance of Whites over other races is a normal and healthy phenomenon. This is a fundamental premise to White supremacist politics. As several of the more articulate responses I received suggested, I could have merely called Leah’s writing racist. But doing so would ignore the nature of the particular form of racism at work, especially the uncomfortable question of who benefits from injustice. As I pointed out to Leah when she claimed, “When I write, I don’t write as a white person, I just write as a person,” White people cannot escape the realities of White privilege and our obligations to put a stop to it.
Taking a step back from the content of Leah’s editorial piece and my letter in response, I think what most haunts me about this experience is what happened to the process. In short, everything became about winning and losing, personal attacks, and social capital. My letter to the editor, rather than being a genuine attempt at encouraging members of the predominantly (one might say “overwhelmingly”) White campus community to think critically about racism, was perceived as a personal jab at Leah. Political correctness to the extreme, I suppose. As many students alluded to, apparently I just needed something to complain about, and Leah was an easy target.
For a long time, I have wanted to clear the air a bit regarding my intentions for responding to Leah’s article, for saying what I said, and of course, for defending my public statements. Unfortunately, I always seem to find myself unsure where to begin. Over the years, I have collected all sorts of nasty and cruel comments in response to my writing – and for that matter, experienced threats, harassment, and other unpleasant reactions – but with a few exceptions, I continue to lack honest and engaging feedback. So, when I think about responding to critics, I am perplexed about the criticism to which I am responding.
No, strangely enough, I do not speak out against injustice because I have some sort of vendetta against a particular individual or group. Believe it or not, there are actually principles – peace, justice, compassion, and love, to identify a few – at stake. I do not speak out to “win” an argument – I’m not sure what really means or what such a victory accomplishes. Yes, my activism is “all about me,” and yet, it really isn’t. I am extremely limited in my perspective – one person, one point of reference, informed by experiences that are uniquely mine. So, in that sense, what I do as an activist is irrevocably tied to who I am as a person, what I believe, what I value, and how I see the world. On the other hand, my purpose as an activist has little to do with me. It’s informed by family members, friends, educators, community leaders, spiritual teachers, historical figures, and of course, countless activists from a range of different movements. I don’t know all the answers, and I don’t plan to know them. But I think there are things we can learn as a society through scholarship, reflection, and critical thinking. And anything worth learning ought to be shared, discussed, and critiqued.
So let’s talk, challenge each other, open up, ask questions, seek understanding, and grow.
It’s worth a try. Isn’t it?
Alright, world, I finally cut my hair. And as has become customary to my hair-styling regimen, I cut it all off.
