"Ching Chong Chang Yang."
Three kids in a car screamed at me in a mock foreign language as I walked along Thayer Street at night. Their tinkling laughter faded as the car roared away, and I began sorting through my emotions for damage. This casual incident of racism that occurred at the end of last semester does not even spark immediate rage in me anymore. I simply lost track after the 10th time.
Once, when I worked a cash register in the campus market, a grandmotherly-looking woman sneered, "You should go back to where you came from." Handing back her money, I tried to keep the emotion out of my voice as I shot back, "Sorry, we don't serve racists here."
"What? I'm a racist?!?" The women exploded as she stormed out in a huff. The other students in the store, all white, had frozen in their tracks. They later grinned with embarrassment and offered their sympathies after the woman had left.
Chink, gook faggot, rice boy - I have heard these racial epithets while working various jobs and in local governmental offices outside of College Hill. Yes, even in Rhode Island, considered one of the greatest strongholds of the Democratic Party and a bastion of liberalism, you would be shocked at the sheer frequency of discrimination and racism. I am not even talking about Asian stereotypes such as being good at math, mild-mannered, awesome at martial arts, etc.; I am talking about racist language that many people supposedly disavow in America.
Even our community at Brown has difficulty addressing and communicating race issues with nuance and respect. I socialize in many circles, and I have noticed several debilitating trends at Brown that indicate obstacles to a progressive race dialogue throughout America.
For instance, an underdeveloped sense of context and overdeveloped sense of political correctness have killed a progressive race dialogue. Eating dinner with three Brown students, one white friend, Jerry (the name has been changed for obvious reasons), said to another white friend, "You're such a nigger." Awkward silence ensued for a couple moments, and I glanced at my other Asian friend who simply stared at his food. Finally, I asked Jerry why he had used that word.
He shrugged. "Because I think it's a funny word."
After I tried to explain to him the historical context of the word for a few minutes, Jerry cut me off, "OK, fine. I just won't use that word when you're around." In my opinion, this was the worst possible outcome. Instead of uprooting it, I had only succeeded in driving casual racism beneath the surface. Political correctness had thus become an unwieldy and dangerous club in killing frank discussions of race.
More importantly, this instance reveals Jerry's simple disconnect with reality. I later realized that Jerry already knew the historical context of the slur, but he could not empathize with my hatred for racial slurs. In other words, Jerry refused to acknowledge any wrong because he had never heard the slur in a derogatory context. Racial minorities may be familiar with epithets like "nigger," "chink" and "spic," but most whites cannot relate with their own experiences or even experiences from their friends of color. Consequently, racism has become a sort of cliché, a concept with no individual impact or meaning to someone not similarly victimized.
I have seen many eyes glaze over at the mere thought of listening to another "race diatribe" about the systemic levels of racism. After all, formal segregation does not exist anymore and lynchings do not occur on a day-to-day basis. In fact, I am surprised by how many students deny the existence of real racism because of the lack of overtly racist laws. As a result, they sneer at "overly racially sensitive" people or expressions of ethnic pride - see Andrew Stein's "Three Kinds of Stupid Brown Conversations" (March 11).
Sometimes, such pokes are good-natured, but many times, a deeper resentment lies underneath such assumptions. No Brown student likes being automatically excluded from a victimized group and automatically labeled an "oppressor" or "privileged." As a result, many students find it difficult to acknowledge that ethnic pride may arise as a means of self-preservation against oppression and not merely from selfishness.
To put it simply, in a nation that refuses to accept them as Americans now, many racial and ethnic minorities want to preserve at least the "Asian" part in being Asian-American, the "African" part in being African-American and so on. Most "racial cliques" do not form from hating white people, but from the old practice of celebrating a part of their multicultural identities. Still, the misunderstandings and rhetorical sniping continue to build the distrust even within our own relatively tolerant community at Brown.
One way to stem the hemorrhaging of our progressive race dialogue is to reframe the debate. Too much misdirection and too little nuance exist in our discussions of race. Instead of only pointing out systemic forms of racism, victims of discrimination need to utilize personal narratives to persuade and connect people without those experiences. Instead of abstractly and broadly criticizing whites for bearing "knapsacks of privilege," we could focus on each person's individual responsibility to fight against the casual racism and stereotypes that often well up behind closed doors, around lunch tables and amongst homogenous groups of friends. Every individual and every action (or inaction) leads to a gain or loss of ground.
Finally and most importantly, we must recognize that my anecdotes in this column are not unique by any means. Everyday while living in America, racial and ethnic minorities are judged, shouted at and slapped around due to their different skin tone or the slant of their eyes. Only by seriously acknowledging and discussing these experiences can we connect to the struggles of others and restart a progressive race dialogue in America.
Herald Cartoonist Eddie Ahn '05 didn't land on Plymouth Rock, but he's still an American.
