OSU Haters: Exposing Know-Your-Place Aggression

A group of Ohio State students have created a Tumblr site, OSU Haters, to expose the microaggressions and hate speech that shape their daily lives. Quite brilliantly, this group is remaining anonymous, determined to focus attention where it belongs: on the atmosphere that OSU provides for them. In this way, the site continues the activism of the last academic year. On the heels of domestic terrorism—including the burning of a Muslim student’s home while he and his roommate slept and the racist murders of Trayvon Martin and Shaima Alawadi—students formed OSU Stand Your Ground and dramatically asserted, “Enough is enough!” Yet, what was most striking about student testimony was the insistence that racist incidents were not unusual. Though the media outlets covering their activism failed to highlight this refrain, it reverberated throughout the organizing meetings and the sit-in. Also, whenever the hate crimes came up during a conversation with an alum who wasn’t white, the first thing they said to me was, “That’s nothing new!” or “So, it hasn’t changed, huh?”

Arson and vandalism upped the ante because the former was attempted murder and the latter made the attitudes more public by involving school property, but students routinely said that unsolicited antagonism was part of their experience as Buckeyes and United States residents.

OSU Haters is valuable, then, because it acknowledges what students have been saying all along: that racism and other –isms shape their daily lives. If we truly listen to these students, the vacuity of the administration’s most consistent responses becomes painfully obvious. President Gordon Gee has been quick to say that racist behavior does not represent Ohio State, and other administrators claim that there is “no place for hate” here.  But I have to ask, “Are you sure about that?” These students have been brave enough to explain how much other people’s hostility has shaped their reality.  When the first reaction is to insist that ugly attitudes are held by a small number of aggressors, we discount their testimony.  To launch into how little these tweets represent Ohio State is to suggest that what these students endure does not matter nearly as much as the picture of the university that we prefer.

By its very existence, the OSU Haters tumblr challenges the assumption that racist comments are insignificant or that they do not accurately represent the climate at this institution. First, the site illustrates the ordinary nature of the most persistent racism, reminding everyone that an attack does not have to be physical (or even extreme) to do violence. Seemingly thoughtless, off-hand comments send the powerful message that some people’s presence is tolerated, not welcomed.

As importantly, because the site exposes hateful tweets, its existence ends up shining a light on that which most allows hostility to persist: apathy. As more people learn of the tumblr site, if they do not feel personally attacked by it, the reaction is often to defend the tweeters, whom they believe should never have to worry about facing consequences for creating a hostile environment. The experience of students who are hurt and offended by these tweets barely seems to figure for these defenders. They argue for the tweeters’ right to “free speech” and “privacy” (though Twitter is the most public forum I can imagine). In other words, such responses confirm what OSU Haters suggested in an interview with the local newspaper: “Even though the number of students posting hate speech compared to the entirety of the student body is small, they have a large audience in their online social circle, and the students who are seeing these hateful messages aren't exposing or reporting them for hate speech. Apathy is more widespread” (my italics). When these kinds of comments are so acceptable as to be tweetable, how much do students who are not targeted care about the experiences of those who are?

The Tumblr site exposes hate as well as indifference about the conditions created by that hate, and in the process, it reveals how easily any of us can be lulled into apathy. Many are tempted to dismiss aggressors as “ignorant.” When we use this label, we are suggesting that they are “just ignorant,” so why give them attention? Why worry about what they think and say? Why bother addressing them at all? The implication is that you should not waste your time and energy on those “ignorant” people. OSU Haters shows that this sort of response is misguided.

To dismiss individuals who spew hate as “ignorant” is to deny what the Tumblr site so clearly reveals, that these are informed people. Whether their articulation of hate is blatantly aggressive or casually so, many of those exposed by OSU Haters demonstrate a keen awareness of U.S. and world history. Tweets refer to the bombing of Hiroshima, “summer camps” as a reference to internment camps, lynchings, and honor killings.

The violent force of many of these tweets emanates from the fact that their authors understand the function of bias-based violence: to keep certain groups from enjoying the rights and privileges of citizenship, to deny certain groups a sense of belonging within the community and the country. 

Given the historical awareness underpinning these tweets, we must remember what dominant assumptions encourage us to forget: racial violence is often a response to success. What have people of color and gays and Sikhs, for example, done to deserve these attacks? What have they done “wrong”? They have managed to succeed despite the many obstacles put in their way. These tweets are therefore part of a much longer tradition of what I call know-your-place aggression. The messages conveyed by antagonists go something like this: “You may have a higher g.p.a. than I do, but you are still just a ‘ch**k’” or “You may have a law degree, but you are still just a ‘f*g’” or “You may have outstanding credentials, but you are still just a woman” or “Barack Obama may be President of the United States, but ….”

In this country, people who are white and/or male and/or heterosexual and/or Christian and/or “able” and/or middle class will be respected when they achieve, but when those who do not fit these categories succeed, they can expect aggression as often as praise. 

Of course, even those targeted by this aggression sometimes insist that it is rare; doing so fuels their success, they may believe. That is, they choose to focus on the positive and give the benefit of the doubt.  But targeted groups are expected to give the benefit of the doubt (“she didn’t mean it” or “it was just a joke”) even in the face of blatant malice. Given this very american expectation, it is important for members of marginalized groups to believe in their capacity for reading their surroundings accurately. You must be able to trust your ability to interpret what is happening, no matter how many times someone else says, “That’s just not the Buckeye way” and “We are better than that.” You must be able to know the difference between those claims and something like, “That shouldn’t be the american way” or “We can be better.”

When faced with evidence that the environment is hostile, especially when that hostility is inadequately addressed by those in power, it is important to empower yourself and others to call a spade a spade. Clearly, bias is leading many to prioritize the comfort and “freedom” of dominant groups, even when it is at the expense of those who become their targets.

I am therefore impressed by the students’ insistence that the tweets, and the hostile atmosphere they represent, cannot be ignored. Building on the work of OSU Haters, a town hall meeting was held on Tuesday, September 4, 2012. It was sponsored by student organizations—the Asian American Association, the Multicultural Greek Council, GradPAC, and OSU Stand Your Ground—and the Multicultural Center. Substantial time was allotted for attendees to share personal experiences with bias and discrimination.

Several students were eloquent in their critical reading of the environment that OSU provides them. For example, one young woman said that she is disturbed by peers who denigrate others, but she can accept it as a simple expression of opinion. However, those same individuals will also insist that they “hate when people are overly sensitive or politically correct.” With great insight, this student explained that when denigrating comments and admonitions against sensitivity and political correctness go together (and they usually do), then the remarks are not just casual judgments; they are active attempts to silence others.

As importantly, a student leader said that it is simply too convenient to suggest that the attitudes exposed on OSU Haters belong to a “fringe” group. With many in the audience nodding in agreement, he shared that walking down High Street (the main drag near campus) and having racist comments yelled at him has simply been part of life at Ohio State. In other words, the incident described in “Hate on High” is not a rare occurrence. And, of course, what happens at OSU is a reflection of what is happening all over the country.

When these students stand firm in what they know about Ohio State and the United States, they are operating as citizens of the spaces they inhabit. They are acting out of their belief that they belong. In doing so, they approach hostile tweeters as equals. Just as the tweeters assume that this is their school and they have a right to feel that it is designed with them in mind, so do the creators of OSU Haters. The group behind this tumblr site is not accepting the idea that so-called “minority” students must be suppliant, must put their case forward as injured subordinates and hope for sympathy.  They are presenting themselves as equals who know that they deserve space.

Some have suggested, even at the Town Hall gathering, that those behind OSU Haters should not be anonymous.  Such calls for the online organizers to reveal their identities should be understood as a sign that some resent dealing with members of marginalized groups as equals. Some people want to be able to identify them so that they can intimidate them or more directly dismiss their concerns and downplay the significance of their experience. In an environment structured in dominance, the group’s anonymity is one of the only ways that they can be on equal footing with those who are privileged within the institution. And if you wonder what being privileged in this environment might look like, please refer to my post “The AmericanWay:  Mediocrity, When White, Looks Like Merit.”

The Town Hall meeting focused on generating solutions that will add to the work of the OSU Haters tumblr, but the site itself makes an important contribution that should not be lost on any of us. These online organizers clearly reject the idea that they should tolerate hostility and just be glad they are here. They know that they more than earned their space, and they (unfairly) keep having to earn it every day.

Know-your-place aggression is a way of asserting that certain groups do not truly belong. I am always proud when targeted communities refuse to accept that painfully consistent message.

Never-ending Battles Require Sustainable Energy

Everyday, the United States gives me plenty of reason to be frustrated, offended, and downright depressed. It sends powerful messages about how little it values me and mine. I live in a country where slavery literally lasted through the 1940s and where today’s prison industrial complex continues to create The New Jim Crow. Nevertheless, the smallest acknowledgment of racial injustice inspires dismissive accusations of “playing the race card.”

I live in a country where 17-year-old Trayvon Martin can be murdered in cold blood, and his killer, George Zimmerman, is treated with leniency. In fact, I live in a country where Zimmerman would not have been arrested if there had not been weeks of protest. What is most painful about the Trayvon Martin tragedy, though, is the fact that his story is so familiar. As Lisa Guerrero and David J. Leonard have noted, violence against black and brown people has long been considered an entertaining pastime.

The United States excuses violence that prevents (certain) teenagers from fulfilling their potential, but when people of color beat the odds, the response can be equally brutal. Black and brown success is often discounted, disrespected, and denied or it becomes the reason for additional violence—what I call know-your-place aggression. In an earlier post, I shared my experience with such aggression and the pain of seeing white mediocrity valued more than black excellence. Responses to that post suggest that my experience is far from unique, as does Dr. Christian Head’s case against UCLA. Still, some of the most egregious know-your-place aggression has become so pervasive that many don’t notice it: now that the president is clearly not 100% white, disrespecting the nation’s highest office has become routine. The vicious nature of Obama-era public discourse has been ably documented by Michael K. Wilson and David J. Leonard, and Huffington Post contributor Andres Jauregui notes that hanging images of President Obama in effigy has become a trend.

Facing these realities, how do you avoid utter despair? How do you keep from giving up by assuming that the country will never make good on its promises? As importantly, how do you resist the temptation to become completely disconnected? Many people of color try to escape by self-medicating with alcohol and drugs... or with religion. I can see why the latter is particularly tempting. This country is always doing us dirty. Why wouldn’t we welcome a holy cleansing?

I have decided to resist these temptations; I will not ignore the world around me, but I refuse to sink into despair, no matter how justified that sometimes seems. Too many people sacrificed to leave me the improved conditions that I enjoy. It is my turn to try to do the same for future generations.

But I am not deceived: surviving and thriving in a society that is set up to destroy, denigrate, and disrespect me requires much more than a strong will.

Exercise has therefore become invaluable! I am much more active now than I was as a teenager, and I don’t see myself slowing down. I cannot afford to—not if I want to make a difference in this world, which I do.

Though I have long understood the value of exercise, making a commitment to do it consistently did not happen over night. It has been a journey, and I have had many sources of encouragement along the way. In 2003, I was welcomed into SisterMentors, an organization that helps women of color finish writing their doctoral dissertations while they mentor school girls. Dr. Shireen Lewis, the founder and director, guides women through the dissertation process, and she takes a very holistic approach. She insists that each woman see herself as a complete human being whose mind, body, and spirit all deserve attention. Dr. Shireen encourages meditation, yoga, and clean eating. I followed much of her advice but never really became consistent.

Once I earned the PhD and relocated to begin my first job, I thought that a healthier lifestyle would be part of the transition. Again, I was not particularly consistent. However, the encouragement to prioritize physical and spiritual health continued to flow into my life. In July 2009, I attended an arts showcase by young women who had completed the Girl/Friends summer program. Girl/Friends is a project of A Long Walk Home that empowers teenagers to do rape prevention educational work in their own schools. The showcase was titled “Fearless,” and it featured the girls’ creative work with photography, dance, and spoken word. As they shared some of the experiences that impacted them the most, I was struck by the program’s emphasis on being physically active and honoring the mind-body-spirit connection.

In short, the program confirmed that doing lasting good in a world that is designed to discount you—anyone who isn’t white and/or male and/or heterosexual and/or middle class—requires valuing yourself enough to prioritize self-care.

Still, it was not until I fell in love with running that I finally found my way of being good to myself on a regular basis. I have now been running since August 2010, because I found positive sources of motivation rather than focusing on losing weight. Basically, I run because I can. I am grateful that I can move, and I show my gratitude by moving.

Gratitude remains my motivation, but in April 2011, I found additional support by becoming an ambassador for Black Girls RUN!, a national organization founded by Toni Carey and Ashley Hicks to promote active lifestyles.

It took me a while to find my primary exercise passion, but I kept looking because I knew that the benefits would be immeasurable. Too many people believe that self-care means being selfish and self-centered, but how can you give the world something of quality if your tank is empty? We assume that everything else is more urgent than nurturing ourselves, but there is no way around it: you can't give what you don’t have, and energy is our most precious resource.

Why Not You? Why Not Now?
I continue to resist the idea that losing weight is a good motivation for exercise. My points of emphasis therefore differ from the sound bites often associated with Black Girls RUN! Nevertheless, I love seeing BGR! inspire women of all ages, sizes, and backgrounds. I am honored to be a part of it. And, we are not alone in this invigorating work.

More and more people understand the importance of getting everyone around them moving. Of course, First Lady Michelle Obama contributes significantly to this endeavor, but there are many such leaders. It is not uncommon to encounter messages like “Strong is the new sexy” and “Health is the new wealth.” And I love the way that Stic of Dead Prez puts it: “Healthy is the New Gangsta…stay G’d up!” Similar sentiments have recently been articulated by the great thinkers of Crunk Feminist Collective and Colorlines. It is an awakening that I am thrilled to see.

Why don’t you join us? Why not now? The nation is not getting any less racist, sexist, heterosexist, and classist or any less brutal toward people who are differently abled or whose gender expression resists rigidity. When you realize that, you understand that Audre Lorde said it best: “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.”

Running may not be the answer, but please find your source of sustainable energy.

Interpreting American Experience: Which Facts Command Your Attention?

Sometimes, a truly honest conversation can illuminate the different kinds of experiences that people are having even as they live in the same country. That is precisely what happened when I shared my frustration recently in a facebook status and a white male friend of mine took the time to express how slanted my view seemed. I reproduce the exchange here because I think we were both honest, civil, and respectful in ways that are instructive for anyone who wants to think more critically about how americans are encouraged to interpret the realities that surround us.

My facebook status on Thursday, March 8, 2012: How I WISH I were wrong more often about how much white privilege & racism rule everything around me.

I commented on my own status: James Baldwin always makes you think: "...it can be unutterably exhausting to deal with people who, with a really dazzling ingenuity, a tireless agility, are perpetually defending themselves against charges which one has not made. One does not have to make them. The record is there for all to read. [...] One wishes that Americans, white Americans, would read, for their own sakes, this record, and stop defending themselves against it. [...] The fact that Americans, white Americans, have not yet been able to do this—to face their history, to change their lives—hideously menaces this country." ("Unnameable Objects, Unspeakable Crimes").

White male friend: Hi Koritha. I will preface this by saying I am in no way hiding from or defending “white history” (although I can easily argue that there is no such thing, but that is not for today) but given that your post is in the present, I am a bit curious. You have a fantastic job at a prestigious university, you get to study and teach your subject of choice, you own a home (and presumably were granted a loan), you are married, with equality, to a wonderful, well educated, well employed man, you can freely post your intellectual opinion on Facebook, you are a published author, you pay US income taxes, your president is multi-racial, you freely associate, interact, and socialize with people of various races. I may have some form of white ignorance here, but where in any of that are you being “ruled” by white privilege and racism? Sorry, but I don’t see anyone or anything ruling YOU!

ME: Well, I said that it rules everything *around* me. I certainly recognize that I have a good life, but I've also shared on here that I know that my successes are thanks God and to the sacrifices of my ancestors—they are not the result of this country becoming fair or free of racism, sexism and other -isms. And, my having the *privileges* that I have is exactly why it's important for me not to be silent about the injustices and double standards that I see. If I'm encountering them with all that I have going for me, then how much worse is it for other black women and members of other marginalized groups?? And, please understand that I know this country's past and present well enough to know that my success has been DESPITE everything that the nation has set up to ensure that I am NOT successful. The fact that I have the life I do is not because things are so fair but because I managed to escape—to this point, at least—all the traps that are set by a society that has designed pretty much everything to favor/advantage white male heterosexuals with middle-class backgrounds. I also very much understand my being able to speak out is a *privilege,* but again, it is one that has been HARD WON (by ancestors and others) with a lot of blood, sweat, and tears. And anyone who doesn't know that blood, sweat, and tears are still being shed today (Obama or not) should consider the possibility that not knowing that is also a sign of privilege.

ME: This makes me want to share this status from Feb 10 again: It must be nice: If you're a white man and mediocre, you're treated with respect, and your BELONGING in positions of authority is never questioned. Meanwhile, I can do exceptional work and folk act like I should be grateful for their even giving me a hearing. Then, if I'm more confident than overly grateful to mere mortals, it's interpreted as arrogance. It's the American way, and it's extremely tiresome.

ME again: And this too: @ Amy, I'm touched by this. Thank you. I appreciate that you can understand my venting. Yes, it's just part of the landscape. As you might guess, I'm articulating just a small part of my frustration. I'm in a moment when things are going so well but there's always got to be some race and gender BS with it. Not only is there some general hateration, as my girl Mary J. Blige would say, but there's also the reality that—because this is the United States, which is so good at being the changing same—I get to shop for something to wear to [an event at which I will be honored for my research] while dealing with sales clerks who act like I'm going to steal something and random shoppers trying to "girlfriend" me and make comments about how I probably can't afford x, y, or z. Just lovely. Accomplishments are always accompanied by this kind of stuff. So, on top of dealing with that, you also have to deal with folk forever trying to downplay the achievement, as if something was handed to you. You know, because this country has become so liberal, it's always cutting black women a break. The unearned arrogance that always insists that my accomplishments have to do with being black and a woman but whites' accomplishments have NOTHING to do with being white is just so freakin' old—and it would be funny if it didn't affect our lives so much.

White male friend: You are awesome. Privilege is earned (be you Bill Gates or Bruce Springsteen or Oprah Winfrey or Ken Chanault) and you have clearly earned yours, and I think we can agree on that. So my point remains firm. You may feel those things rule "everything" around you, but the very fact that you are who you are and a guy like me is so impressed by you, and what you do, is proof that you are not. You are so much better than all that nonsense!

And, for the record, I am a thoroughly mediocre white guy and routinely treated with little to no respect. Case in point, I would wager you have little to no respect for me right now!!

ME: Thanks for the compliment and for taking the time to share this. It's astonishing how different our experiences have clearly been because our perspectives feel worlds apart. I am made to see things that you simply don't, I guess. When I acknowledge that I have privilege, I am referring to the fact that I know that some of what I have is NOT EARNED because WE LIE when we say that we live in a country in which people have what they earn. I'll give just one example. Of course, I work hard. I certainly work harder than those who are even more privileged than I am by our racist, sexist, classist, heterosexist society. However, because I'm not invested in lying to myself about how much I earned x, y, or z, I can admit that I know that I have had certain breaks and only those breaks allowed me to get here. Why are breaks so crucial? Because we live in a society that consistently withholds from some and gives to others; it is not invested in equal distribution of ANYTHING, including opportunity. So, (for example) I've seen how black boys who were just as smart as I was did not get the opportunities that I got in the early decade or so of schooling. So much is set up to make everyone see black boys in less innocent, less child-like ways, so if my black male peers weren't extra bright (and caught on extra fast) and weren't extra perfect in behavior, they could easily be treated with no patience and end up falling behind in learning, etc. etc. etc. So, my decent intelligence coupled with the fact that I was girl and knew how to walk a VERY straight line—because enough imperfect behavior from me could've easily led to my being thrown away too (certainly quicker than misbehaving white children)—allowed me to end up okay. Now, this didn't mean that I didn't still encounter all kinds of craziness. Despite my record, despite honors classes, I was NEVER given college counseling. The only reason I ended up going to college is because my mom worked too many jobs for me to go to the college nights that the school sponsored anyway, so I always had to be proactive and figure out how to get exposure. Because I did that, I ended up at a college fair in downtown Houston (not associated with my school) and met a representative from Ohio Wesleyan University. Again, I know better than to think that I deserved x, y, or z because I took that extra initiative. How many breaks did I get that allowed me to know to figure these things out on my own? If I hadn't figured it out, it certainly wouldn't have been because I was lazy and didn't deserve it. It just would've been that I fell through the wide cracks that the society left for me. Anyway, I can't try to go through it all. The point is that I know the workings of this society well enough to know that it's not just about EARNING. It's also a lot of blessings and luck and chance because what is most consistent and systematic are those mechanisms that nearly ensure that people like me would never get to where I am. Again, there's more than I can say. But there's plenty of evidence that our society constantly advantages certain kinds of people, constantly ensures that certain kinds of people get 2nd, 3rd, and 4th chances and ruthlessly increases the likelihood that ONE MISTAKE will destroy another type of person's life. That's the United States that we live in and not knowing just how unfair its most systematic practices are requires a willingness to ignore that I can't pretend to have. Because I know that my privileges are unearned, I try to use the ones I have to create justice for others. I can only do that within the limits of the power that my privileges give me, so I hope and pray that those who have more privileges and power will see the value of using that to create justice for others. But here's the thing: Doing that means looking at the environment and what can be improved about it rather than saying, for example, "Well, if Oprah, Obama, and lesser folk like Koritha made it, then that proves that this is a country that spells opportunity for all." That's the hype we're told to believe, but the evidence to the contrary is everywhere—and it doesn't take being a researcher like me to find it. To refuse to see the environment and insist that all that matters is those few who escaped the traps of that environment has been the american way. I am working to inspire people to see that we can do a lot better. The country can actually walk its talk one day.
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All that I will add now is that I am grateful for whites who are allies in anti-racist work. There have always been whites who are serious and proactive about being anti-racist thinkers and activists, and they have been in the trenches along with people of color and other marginalized groups. Tim Wise is the most visible, but I am grateful to know of others. Rather than list here, I would just encourage those who don't even know about Tim Wise to consider getting his latest book Dear White America: Letter to a New Minority. Also see his website timwise.org.

What Are You Speaking to Power?

Since the October 2011 publication of my book Living with Lynching, I have been asked whether I see parallels between our contemporary moment and the period that I study, 1890 to 1930. The short answer is yes. In fact, I find the last turn of the century fascinating partly because it looks so much like this one. The similarities include the ugliness of anti-immigrant sentiment, the need for women to fight for baseline equity and safety, the ease with which certain families are denied recognition and respect, and the dehumanizing treatment of the poor while corporations are treated as people. (See the 1886 Santa Clara decision and today’s Citizen’s United case leading to the doctrine that “money is free speech.”) And, of course, there are striking parallels between the lynching era and our present moment in terms of the strategies being developed—right now—to keep certain populations from voting.

Questions about whether or not the dynamics I examine still exist usually arise in relation to a very specific claim. Armed with the insight of those who lived and wrote in the midst of lynching, I contend that racial violence was a response not to black criminality but to black success. I hope to write several posts addressing various versions of the historical parallels question. Here, I begin with one from Michael Eric Dyson, who interviewed me for his hour-long radio show honoring the legacy of Martin Luther King Jr. on Monday, January 16, 2012.

I was describing the revisions that black male lynching dramatists offered when they entered the genre a decade after it was initiated by women. While women playwrights had put forth ideal images of black manhood, black men offered the pimp and the coward. The message of their plays is that the mob attacks black patriarchs, those who gain traditional success and are family and community leaders, but it will often spare pimps and cowards. Michael Eric Dyson asked if there was any parallel between the collective message of these plays and today’s cultural landscape, in which black pimps are welcomed in popular media. I said that there is a link and that the circulation of pimp imagery is acceptable, and even desirable, because it does not disrupt the status quo. Let me elaborate here.

Living with Lynching is about citizenship. I am interested in the many ways that the nation defines citizenship as white and how racial violence contributes to this mission. After all, lynching emerged only after slavery ended (so, killing blacks didn’t mean losing property), and it intensified when black men began gaining ground politically. (Black women were far from voting rights at this point.) To discourage black men from voting and otherwise participating in the political process, whites used violence and they invented the black rapist myth to destroy black men’s reputations, portraying them as unworthy of citizenship. In other words, the images allowed to circulate in the public sphere—black rapists and white heroes who avenge rape—reiterated the assumption that whites are the rightful citizens.

Today’s pimp imagery works in a similar fashion to ensure that only certain people come to mind when you say “citizen.” Any success that a pimp might have is deemed immoral, so his popularity only confirms that black men cannot be responsible citizens because they do not live by the ideals of upstanding manhood that the country claims to respect. It is more threatening to have a black man who exemplifies american ideals, such as Barack Obama. He did everything according to what should bring him respect: he went to Ivy League schools, he’s heterosexual, he’s married, he's had only one wife, etc. He creates much more anxiety than does the commercial gold mine Snoop Dog because he embodies what the nation says it values, thereby illustrating that black men can be more admirable than whites, even by conservative standards.

Noticing this tendency is not enough, though; placing pimp imagery alongside Barack Obama reveals other dynamics that should not be overlooked. Namely, though conversations about the pimp lifestyle center on non-whites, white men have freely engaged in nefarious activity—including pimping, raping, and otherwise abusing women—since the founding of this nation. Indeed, this country’s biggest pimps have been and continue to be white men, but when we hear that word, they are not the image that comes to mind. Whites have created a society in which negative connotations stick to everyone but them. Another example: a white man can routinely bully and elegantly threaten others, in both his personal and professional life…but never be thought of as a “thug.” Meanwhile, all a black man has to do is choose a style of dress that we don’t like, and he is labeled a “thug” to the point where it limits his life chances.

On the other end of the spectrum, one finds Barack Obama and the countless black men whose existence is seldom acknowledged in mainstream media: black lawyers, black soldiers, veterans, and entrepreneurs, for example. If these men cannot be ignored, they are discredited (“he got that position because he is black”). Why? Because they expose the central myth of U.S. culture, that white men are the best the world has to offer.

Unfortunately, admirable people of color can also be understood as exceptions who confirm the worthlessness of others. You have heard it a million times from americans of all hues: “Just look at ____. Now, there are no excuses.” How did so many come to believe that the main thing that people of color do is make excuses? The ease with which people utter and accept this comment proves the success of the campaign to malign anyone who isn’t white. While everyone is busy making sure that non-whites don’t get away with making excuses, we ignore all of the systems put in place to prevent anyone who is not white and/or heterosexual and/or Christian and/or middle-class from attaining what the nation claims is within everyone’s reach.

But as I said on Dyson’s radio show, I am not invested in speaking the truth because I hope it might change white people’s minds. I am much more interested in keeping people of color from believing the lies that are meant to destroy them while making them feel ashamed if they notice that they are under siege. (Accusations of “playing the race card.”) To the extent that we buy the dominant portrait, which makes white right and everyone else wrong, we are in trouble.

Too often, I hear conversations on race among blacks that revolve around how “the white man doesn’t have to keep us down because we are doing it to ourselves—all these single mothers, deadbeat fathers….” Listening in, one would think that even we don’t know any examples of black mothers who are also wives and fathers who prioritize family life. Sure, images of single mothers and deadbeat fathers saturate mainstream discourse, but we are letting that dictate what comes to mind for us, too.  [And this is to say nothing about the fact that being a single mother isn't shameful!!] 

These conversations remind me of when then-Senator Obama chose the occasion of his address to the NAACP to insist on the necessity of “teaching our sons…to realize responsibility does not end at conception; that what makes them a man is not the ability to have a child but to raise one" (July 2008). He said this as if he does not know plenty of black men who are doing precisely that. He said this as if that’s the most powerful message he could bring to the NAACP. Really? Well, we don’t do any better when that’s how we talk about the race, too.

In contrast, lynching plays evince an understanding of the importance of speaking the truth about black communities that the rest of society is working so hard to ignore. The plays foreground representative figures that help audiences think together about black identity and citizenship. Because my book follows the conversation that blacks were having in the early 1900s, one chapter focuses on the black soldier, another on the black lawyer, another on the black mother who is also a wife. Imagine that! These authors actually placed a spotlight on the people they knew in their communities, not just those who saturated the mainstream: buffoons and mammies, rapists and whores.

According to mainstream assumptions, mobs targeted African Americans because they represented an evil that would destroy society: black men were supposedly rapists who cared nothing for stable domesticity and black women were said to be whores incapable of creating it anyway. In this climate, black playwrights most consistently depicted what national discourse denied existed: loving black homes. As they recorded and contributed to the community conversation, they placed a spotlight on the black soldier, the black lawyer, and the black mother/wife, so bringing the black pimp and coward into the genre constituted a major revision. Today, we seldom bother to talk about those who make us proud before focusing on those who don’t.

These tendencies have political implications. What is our current community conversation? What are we speaking to power? Do we talk about our own communities as if they contain no responsible men, commendable women, or adorable children? If so, is that the truth? Again, the mainstream denies that we have loving families, but we should pause before regurgitating those messages. Too often, we say these things as if we are the only admirable black person we know—and as if judging the presumed majority of the race will confirm how admirable and “objective” we are.

Having seen this pattern more often than I would like, I think we could take lessons from the playwrights. They preserved the truth that society’s myths disregarded, thereby affirming for African Americans what they hopefully already knew about the race. Doing so was (and remains) crucial because blacks are not magically impervious to the messages of american society; we are as vulnerable to national rhetoric as others, so we need to equip ourselves and each other to withstand the attack on our self-conceptions.

Today, no less than in the lynching era, the doctrine of white supremacy/black pathology insists that blacks are not worthy citizens of the nation because they are not even meaningful members of their own families and communities. Let’s not be the loudest supporters of those lies.

Black Art ≠ Protest Art: A Contrarian View, Indeed

In the 2 months that my book Living with Lynching has been in print, readers have asked questions that have stayed with me, partly because I wish I had given more complete answers in the moment. One such question came from Mark Anthony Neal, Duke University professor of African and African American Studies and host of the weekly webcast Left of Black. Because I insist that protest is too limiting a framework for understanding the lynching plays that I examine, he asked why I think scholars so often use a protest literature lens. My answer was way too tentative and vague. I have very clear ideas about why this pattern persists. In short: because it has become “common sense” to think of black art as a reaction.

However, what parades as “common sense” sometimes creates a barrier to critical thinking. Michael Omi and Howard Winant have shown this very clearly regarding race in the United States. Because ideas supporting the racial status quo pass as common sense, certain assumptions and conclusions seem natural, despite not being even close to accurate. This has certainly become the case with approaches to black art.

The degree to which “black art = protest art” has become the kind of common sense that hinders critical thinking is perhaps best exemplified by the disproportionate attention that Kenneth Warren’s What Was African American Literature? has received. Somehow, it works for Harvard University Press, The Chronicle of Higher Education, The LA Review of Books, and respected scholars, such as Werner Sollors, that Warren defines a vast body of literature as simply a “response to the disfranchisement of blacks in the south, which set the stage for the consolidation of Jim Crow segregation.” Warren claims that resisting oppression was the only reason that countless literary works emerged, and too many have accepted this as a legitimate assertion. Of course, many have done so with the understanding that this overstated rhetoric simply makes his polemic possible, but even that acknowledgment (and the recognition that Warren's stature gives him cultural capital within the publishing industry), does not fully explain the solemnity with which this book is being engaged. I therefore humbly submit that an important reason for this book’s existence, and people’s willingness to have earnest discussions of it, is this: most in the United States accept as common sense that black artists who embrace that identity can only respond.

The tagline for Mark Anthony Neal’s show Left of Black is "A Contrarian View of Blackness," and thinking about his question has reminded me that a similar perspective produced Living with Lynching. I argue that lynching plays were not so much responses to white-authored violence as they were efforts to preserve community insights. These playwrights worked to equip African Americans to continue to believe in what they already knew about their communities, that they were made up of men and women who lived according to the standards that the nation claimed to respect. Even though these dramas acknowledge that the mob is a threat, they are not about convincing white people that racial violence is wrong. Contrary to what so many believe, not everything that black artists, philosophers, and even activists do is about white people.

Unfortunately, this is an argument that americans seldom hear and that few feel empowered to make. In fact, while writing this book, I kept encountering people who not only had trouble accepting my claim, but they also feared for my career because I was making it. With my best interests at heart, one colleague warned, “Well, we’re talking about lynching, Koritha. Can you really say that it’s not about responding to whites?”

There is no doubt in my mind, though: blacks who lived and wrote in the midst of mob violence do not simply teach us about anti-lynching efforts; they teach us a great deal about lynching itself. If you want to understand lynching, you cannot just look at the evidence that perpetrators left. You also need to pay attention to what targeted communities had to say. And one of the things that they said, if we will only listen, is that mob violence was a response to black achievement.

The plays show that African Americans were busy minding their own business, and sometimes, this led them not only to survive but also thrive in the “Progressive Era.” When they achieved certain kinds of success, white supremacists reacted violently. So, the literature preserves evidence of black community activities, but because those activities beckoned the mob, most scholars now claim that the art itself was a response to the mob. Not so! And, as my book demonstrates, lynching playwrights were not the only ones who made this clear.

I allowed myself to be tentative and vague regarding these issues on Left of Black, and I am haunted by what I did not say while being interviewed. So, I will now be bold enough to reveal the loftiest goal I had while writing this book. I hope that Living with Lynching will do for the study of lynching, racial violence, and the Jim Crow Era what books like John Blassingame’s The Slave Community (1972) did for the study of “the peculiar institution.” Blassingame’s research, and the work of those inspired by it, made it unacceptable to teach slavery using only documents produced by slave masters and other whites. Historians began recognizing that understanding the institution required new methodologies that allowed them to engage the perspectives of the enslaved.

If readers are at all convinced by what I present in Living with Lynching, it should be very hard to claim that you understand racial violence unless you can see black art as much more than protest.

Why I love AWKWARD BLACK GIRL

As a literary historian and cultural critic committed to understanding how targeted communities survive racial violence, my work seldom focuses on comedy. But, of course, humor has been important for the survival of those grappling with colonialism, slavery, and their many legacies. Without making claims about its ties to these larger historical trajectories, I want to make a declaration: The Mis-adventures of Awkward Black Girl, a comedy series available on YouTube, is one of the few things that has made me laugh out loud in a long time.

What I find most brilliant about this show is its refusal to invest in any sort of propriety. Yet, it is not driven by the cliché premise of Oh, look. I’m being shocking and irreverent! Instead, the web series simply explores everything that its protagonist, J (portrayed by the show’s creator Issa Rae), would find vexing. In the process, hilarity emerges from sheer honesty. J asks questions that many of us have wanted to ask. For example, “What’s the protocol for repeatedly running into someone at a stop sign? (Episode 1). And, “How many fake laughs are acceptable before it becomes too much?” (Episode 1). Or, when unable to escape an annoying conversation, “Did I die and go to simple bitch hell?” (Episode 6).

The refusal to invest in propriety strikes a chord because it enables the show to represent a black woman protagonist with much more complexity than mainstream outlets allow. Perhaps the best example is that which opens the series: J’s voice-over introduces her character, and we quickly find that she enjoys violent rap songs saturated with Ns and Bs. She asks, “Am I the only one who pretends I’m in a music video when I’m by myself?,” and we find her driving while performing along with a song about Ns wanting to sex her from behind (Episode 1). Clearly, this character’s portrayal is not going to be governed by whether or not this is a “positive” image of a black woman.

The music only gets worse—in every way—when J is responsible for its creation! As a coping mechanism, she composes violent rap lyrics. She despises one of her co-workers, and her songs reveal what she would like to do to this woman. No need for viewers to be concerned, though. As J explains, “it’s not violence if you don’t act on it” (Episode 6).

Because the writing focuses on the truth of J’s character, the episodes are all about situations that she finds awkward, and her workplace proves to be a treasure trove. Once again, J’s voice-over offers much of the comedy; her tone is very matter-of-fact, giving the impression that she is simply making observations. J describes the company she works for: “Basically, we sell bulimia in pill form” (Episode 2). Among her co-workers is “The Loud Black Bitch.” Though we only briefly encounter this character, her disregard for others encourages viewers to accept the description. The show is not so scared of a stereotype that it avoids suggesting that a few such people might exist. But, one of my favorite characters is “Boss Lady,” the white woman supervisor who loves to bond with J by speaking slang, wearing her hair in cornrows, and talking about her attraction to black men. Then, of course, there is Amir, the “walking rainbow of racism” who gets away with it “because no one knows what he is” (Episode 3).

The show engages interracial dating in Episode 7, and J’s new best friend (her awkward soulmate, Cece) declares herself “an interracial expert” and gives J horrible advice. Still, non-verbal communication is the most amusing element of this episode. For example, when J and her white date walk into a restaurant, they draw lots of stares. As the camera scans the room, a black man with his arm around his white girlfriend shakes his head and rolls his eyes. There is no voice-over commentary, no additional dialogue to underscore it—just the facial expression and clear message of the gesture. Beautiful! The well executed acting creates a moment that instantly brings to mind every conversation I have had about the frequency with which black men date white women and the very different reactions inspired when black women consider exploring similar options.

This first date with a white man does not go so well, partly because he takes J to a spoken word showcase. Again, we see evidence that this comedy series will not be governed by what “should” or “should not” be said. Via voice-over, J declares, “Rap and poetry had a baby called Spoken Word. I wish I could abort that baby.” And later, “God invented liquor because He foresaw spoken word. Praise Him!” (Episode 7). J’s disdain for the form is not a blanket statement. It has everything to do with the quality of work in this particular showcase—a fact that is undeniable as the episode features some of the performed pieces in their entirety.

You must see the short episodes on YouTube for yourself because there is no way to capture the show’s genius here. There have already been insightful articulations of why people love the series so much that viewers contributed more than $44K to ensure that Episode 7 would not be the last one. I simply wanted to add that the show’s “improper” elements are crucial because they enable a nuanced portrait of the protagonist. This works so well because the truth about people of color is that we are complex and often contradictory, despite the mainstream media’s centuries-long habit of portraying us in narrow and simplistic ways.

These complexities can come through when we can free ourselves, even momentarily, from a bias toward perfection. This is difficult, I know. After all, those whom U.S. society marginalizes are constantly told that propriety is the ticket to social acceptance and full citizenship. Thus, people who are homosexual, of color, and/or poor are taught to invest in standards of propriety and morality that privileged folk can disregard without losing acceptance or basic rights. No wonder we so rarely encounter characters—who are not white, heterosexual, and middle-class—that are allowed to simply be themselves and experience life, whether what they do, think, and say is admirable or not.

When I see J, I am thoroughly amused for more reasons than I can name, but I know that the show’s tendency to avoid shoulds and should nots is at the top of the list. Though I understand the investment in propriety, we need more artists who will let their characters of color have their complete experiences and all of their messy behavior and quirky thoughts. Too often, our stories are all about moralizing, as if there is no room for anything else—as if black communities (especially) are so lost that everything that engages black characters must also come with a guidebook for living. That's not the case. Despite mainstream depictions (including those on the news), we have plenty of strong families in the community that fit the traditional mold. And, we have some that don't fit the traditional mold but are still quite nurturing and full of role models. Healthy, loving families headed by gays and lesbians constitute just one of many examples.

So, I don't believe that every bit of artistic expression involving folk who are not white and/or heterosexual and/or solidly middle-class must offer life lessons. Some can just make us laugh out loud, which The Mis-adventures of Awkward Black Girl does exceptionally well.

The American Way: Mediocrity, When White, Looks Like Merit

A couple years ago, I attended a meeting with a high-ranking administrator about diversifying the faculty and graduate student population. The administrator had recently hired someone to focus on diversity, and she was also at the meeting. Early in the conversation, someone asked about the racial composition of the administrator's unit. The newly hired diversity officer reported that the staff of nearly 100 people was 98% white. I really appreciated her wording. Rather than say that there were only 1 or 2 people of color, she emphasized that there were 98 whites. When we talk about diversity, we don't do this enough. We leave whiteness unmarked—as if its presence is never up for discussion and certainly not to be questioned. Missing her point, the very powerful administrator later said, sure that he was being reasonable, “Well, we have to be careful because people wanting to get minorities into positions may relax standards.”

His comment reflects the accepted way of understanding what most Americans call "affirmative action." However, this view depends on a bold-faced lie, that “race” is a factor only when people of color are involved. Yet, real affirmative action has always been for whites. Whether the rules governing who could own land in Colonial times (these policies certainly didn't favor Native Americans) or the practices ensuring that whites received 98% of FHA loans between 1932 and 1962, real affirmative action has always been for those deemed white.

Do you end up with a staff that is more than 90% white because they are the most qualified the country has to offer? That’s certainly the hype that we’re taught to believe. However, I have been surrounded by whites all my life, and that has not translated into being surrounded by excellence. When a candidate is white, they can be considered a “good fit” even when their qualifications are not all that impressive, but a candidate of color has to be exceptional (and put whites at ease) in order to get the same designation.

Of course, I am not saying anything new, but the intractability of American -isms makes saying it as relevant today as ever. For the same reason, it is always helpful to re-visit books that have stated the case better than I can. For example, if you have questions about the validity of the term “white” and claims about the benefits that follow “whiteness” in the U.S. context, please see George Lipsitz’s The Possessive Investment in Whiteness: How White People Profit from Identity Politics. It discusses (among other things) how maintaining the whiteness of institutions requires pretending that whiteness has nothing to do with how the institution works.

Recognizing the same dynamic, cultural critic Dwight McBride has argued that when you look at African American faculty members in the top English departments around the country, you find—with very few exceptions— scholars who "by any measure of 'quality' are achieving at the highest levels of distinction in the field." However, "canvass those same English departments of the same top institutions and consider the white faculty members there. What you will find is a range of faculty members from the very distinguished to the mediocre...." Therefore, “...one of the ways in which we will know when black people in the United States are truly liberated and equal to their fellow white citizens will be when there are as many mediocre blacks in academia as there are currently mediocre whites” (2005: 8).

McBride’s words have long resonated with me, but my experiences keep telling me how far the United States is from that moment. In the five years before coming up for tenure review, I won two postdoctoral fellowships in competitions among PhD’s throughout the nation and from every scholarly discipline. Though neither of the competitions that I won excludes white candidates, they are designed to address the fact that white men are over-represented in the academy. I get the impression that, in the history of my very large and established English department, I am the first person to have won two national, year-long fellowships before tenure review. This has not always been treated as an honor for me and the university, though; sometimes, it has caused hostility.

The hostility has often been subtle and it has taken many forms; I will give only the most recent example. A renowned senior colleague told me that my fellowships were more like financial aid because they allowed me to get my first scholarly book written. The book will be the real sign of whether I have done my job well, he explained. (This was a couple months ago, after my book manuscript had already gone through several levels of favorable review, to which he was privy.)

It is incredibly difficult to win fellowships, especially the kind that I earned: that which requires no teaching. These fellowships are an honor and a straightforward investment in the potential that the foundation sees in you as a scholar. Therefore, the foundation essentially pays to relieve you of your teaching obligations to your home institution.

How does such an acknowledgment of the quality of my research get interpreted as financial aid??? In short, the unearned arrogance that comes with white privilege. It's like magic! This man believes that his achievements have had nothing to do with his whiteness, but he cannot imagine that my accomplishments are about anything but someone “cutting me a break” because I am black and a woman.

If I had been a white man who studies Shakespeare, these awards would have been deemed an honor to me and the entire department and university. There would have been NO suggestion that this was anything like financial aid. I am sure that my esteemed colleague has never thought of his own fellowships that way.

So, I agree with McBride that we will have made some progress when a wide range of merit is tolerable for people of color, as it currently is for whites. They can be anything from distinguished to mediocre and not have people question their qualifications. Yet, to the majority of those in power, even excellence—if it's not white—does not seem like merit. No wonder our institutions look like they do.