In This Corner
Please be advised: This piece contains references to violence, rape, and mature subject matter.
Hi, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Doug. I’m 31-years-old, a married man. I have a college degree and a job in corporate America.
And I’m white.
Both of my parents are white, and I’ve got four white grandparents. I was a white kid who grew up in Midwestern suburbia, going to school with mostly other white kids. Other races were present, but it was mostly us white folk.
It’s okay. I’m not a terrorist. I know why you might think that. I’m white, like Ted Kaczynski, or like Tim McVeigh. But I promise I’m not going to plant bombs anywhere, that’s not who I am. I just kind of look like prominent terrorists because we have the same racial makeup.
Oh, no, it’s okay. I’m not a mass shooter. I can see why you might assume that. But that’s not who I am. I’m not like Dylann Roof or Stephen Paddock. I don’t have any contrived reasons to kill people like Roof or Patrick Crusius, and I definitely wouldn’t kill people for the thrill of it like Paddock or Adam Lanza. I’m not like them. I just kind of look like them.
Oh please, don’t worry. I’m not a rapist. I know that as a white guy I probably remind you of Brock Turner or Jerry Sandusky, but that’s not me. That’s not who I am. I would never do that. I get that as a person who spent six years on a college campus as a white guy you might think I’d probably raped someone, but I didn’t and I won’t. I just sort of look like those guys.
I get it, I’m a white guy. But I’m not like those other white guys. I promise.
I’m sorry, perhaps I’ve overreacted. Maybe you didn’t assume any of that of me. You probably didn’t assume I was complicit in the crimes of others from my race. You didn’t see me in a mall and think, “That’s an awfully big coat. I bet he’s got guns and ammo under there. I’d better leave before it starts.”
Heck, I’m a white guy. If you saw me at a Starbucks with a machine gun on my back you might not even run. You might assume, even with a deadly weapon on hand, that I was merely showing off. All talk, no action. Or maybe you’d congratulate me and call me a badass.
Because I’m white.
As a white man I am not held responsible in the court of public opinion for the crimes of my fellow whites. There are a few on Twitter who have tried, but it hasn’t really taken hold. Mostly I get to be me. Every time someone meets me, it’s a clean slate. A clean white slate.
You should know I’ve done some things wrong though. I failed more classes than I care to admit while in college. Mostly out of laziness and neglect. I never got suspended in school but I did a few things that I know other kids got suspended for. I had a job once where I stole from the place, regularly. I shouldn’t have done it and I regret it, but it happened. I don’t know if they ever figured it out, but they didn’t tell me if they knew.
Despite this I still walk around with the benefit of the doubt. It is nice, and frankly I deserve it. I’m not a bad guy and I mean no one any harm. I don’t plan to send any letter bombs or drop anything in anyone’s drink.
It is a privilege.
It should be a right, but it’s not, and that’s why I call it a privilege.
Right now, a few states away in Minnesota, Americans like myself are protesting because of the death of George Floyd. Mr. Floyd died during an arrest by the Minneapolis police. The four officers who participated in the arrest, and in Floyd’s death, have been fired, but as of this writing only one has been arrested. Bystander video shows a police officer’s knee on Floyd’s neck for several minutes while he gasped for breath, repeating that he could not breathe. Mr. Floyd was accused of passing counterfeit bills to buy cigarettes. A crime, if true, but not one that would have held the death penalty even if Minnesota hadn’t repealed their death penalty 109 years ago.
Mr. Floyd, unarmed, was treated as a violent threat to the safety of four armed police officers, despite additional eyewitness video showing him walking calmly to the police car, guided by the officers. If guilty, Mr. Floyd was in this moment allegedly a petty thief, like I was. But he was arrested and I wasn’t. He’s dead, and I’m not. He was viewed as a threat to police who felt the need to pin him to the ground by the neck. I’ve been cited by police at least 15 times, mostly for speeding and other unsafe driving errors, and I feel confident I was never viewed as such a threat.
I wish George Floyd would have had my privilege.
Demonstrations cropped up in Minneapolis. This is predictable, because black communities have a lot of practice in protesting and demonstrating after black people are killed and justice isn’t done. Floyd’s case has momentarily pushed the case of Ahmaud Arbery and the case of Breonna Taylor to the back burner of our national consciousness, such is the frequency of these deaths.
The demonstrators were met with police armed in riot gear. Tear gas was loosed. As often happens during these situations, looting followed. Looting and purposeless destruction followed the protests in Baltimore after Freddie Gray died in police custody too. This also happened during the riots in Vancouver in 2011, when the Canucks lost the Stanley Cup.
The national discourse then shifted in a way that is also predictable. Outside observers began to opine about what the looting meant. “They” didn’t want justice. “They” didn’t care about George Floyd. “They,” the black citizens of Minneapolis, were now the ones in the wrong. “They,” the black citizens of Minneapolis, are perhaps no longer worthy of our sympathy. “They” didn’t act properly when the nation’s eyes fell on them and maybe “they” are worse than the people who murdered George Floyd.
But Dylann Roof and I, we are not a “They.” No one groups me with Brock Turner as a “They.” I am not held responsible for the crimes of my race. I’m only held responsible for me. Only Stephen Paddock is responsible for Stephen Paddock.
So why is the black population of Minneapolis, of Minnesota, of the United States, a “They?”
As of the 2010 census, there are 362,000 residents of Minneapolis proper. 18.6% of them are black. I’m bad at math so let’s call that 400,000 people and 20% black. 80,000 residents of Minneapolis are black. Of course, Minneapolis has a large metro area it shares with another major city, St. Paul. But to keep the numbers clear, we’ll disregard that for a moment.
If 5,000 Minneapolis residents protested peacefully that would comprise a little over 6% of black people who live in Minneapolis. If only 1,000 people protested, that would be a big and sizable demonstration. It would also be 1.25% of the black people who call Minneapolis home.
Apply the same math to the looters. If there are 80,000 black people in Minneapolis, and maybe 500 TVs get stolen from various Targets and Walmarts and other retailers, how many black people are actually stealing TVs? If there are 80,000 black people begging for justice, and 20 fires start, “They” are not starting fires. “They,” are not stealing TVs. “They,” the black people of Minneapolis are just grieving. With some anomalies.
A few people are taking advantage. It’s sad and it’s wrong. But it is small and insignificant compared to a man’s life. So when we look at Minneapolis over the coming days (it would be optimistic of me to suggest this will hold our attention for over a week) I am asking you, if you are white, to think about the way you are not held up for other people’s crimes. You are not tarred with their brush. You are not the mass shooter or the terrorist just because you share a race with one.
And I beg of you to try and think about a black person the same way. Just one. See a black person you don’t know. Did your mind jump to whether they had ever sold drugs, or if they were in a gang? Ask yourself why. Is it because you have a realistic understanding of the pervasiveness of illegal drugs, or of street gangs? Or is it maybe from a movie you saw or a song you heard.
So, try it again. Did you think the woman in the gas station would steal from there? Why do you think that? Is it because of them or because of you? Did she deserve your suspicion? If a black person moves down the street do you assume they’re a good person? Or do you wait until they show you they’re “one of the good ones?” Have you really met more “bad” ones than “good” ones? Are you sure?
If you see a black person crying in the streets of Minneapolis, holding a sign with sweaty, shaking hands, dodging tear gas clouds to stand for someone who can’t stand any longer, think to yourself, “do they really just want a free TV?” And if you do think that, accept the thought. But follow it with another one. Why do you think they’re not genuine? Why do you think they’re not sincere? Why do you think their grief is illegitimate? Why do you think their sadness is fake?
Grant them one minute of the privilege you would grant me.
Doug Sears, Jr. is a writer, columnist, and podcaster for Watershed Voice.
Any views or opinions expressed in “In this Corner” are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views or opinions of the Watershed Voice staff or its board of directors.
