Racism without Racists: giving voice to injustice in a “color blind” society

Let me start with the preface, I am white–not color blind.

I believe that our society is as far from colorblindness as it has ever been. The fear of being seen as Racist has overpowered the fear of racism itself, discreetly protecting our racism with “color blind” laws and law enforcement. By using terms like “color blindness” we are protecting institutionalized racism from much needed reform–not making racism disappear.

The biggest question for me, when faced with statistics that show obvious racial bias, is: why? Who benefits from a racial caste system, and what would inspire anyone to support one? I imagined a bunch of powerful white men sitting around a table, smoking cigars, talking about how they could “keep the black man down,” as it happened when racial discrimination was formed [7] and absolutely rejected the possibility that such a club could exist today. No one is that racist anymore (I told myself). But the answer is much more dangerous than that. While I now have no doubt that people exist who see racial discrimination and benefit from it, the core of the problem is even more malignant. The problem does not simply belong to a select few at the top. Racism belongs to all of us.

In a country that largely rejects open racial bias and considers racism a societal flaw and injustice, I often hear the claim: “But I/he/she/they/it is/am not a racist, so how can you say __________ is racism?” The obliteration and extinction of The Racist, will not end racism. One does not have to have intentional bias in order for racism to exist, nor for us to act with significant racial consequences. Studies presenting video game players with white and black men, some armed and some not, resulted in participants being more likely to mistake a black target as armed and a white target as unarmed. These results were the same for both white and black participants [1] [2]. Regardless of whether participants explicitly displayed racism, their implicit or internalized bias affected their external actions. In this case, to the point where innocent, unarmed black men would have been shot and armed white men would have held the participant at gunpoint. That is racism without racists, with fatal consequences.

As a result of shining light on the ugliness of racism, we have created an automatic defensive response that protects anyone from ever objectively or actively addressing persisting racism in our society.

If you have ever questioned whether or not an idea, institution, phrase, question, or relationship was racist, you will understand what I mean. Any person involved, regardless of how removed from the inquiry they are, will immediately cry in offense, “that’s not racist!” and either argue that the act is justified by other causes [10] or change the subject by way of their anger and frustration. As a result, our internalized fears of being considered racist has overpowered the fight to end racism. More recently, arguments that whites should not be made to feel guilty for past injustices has distanced racism from our present society and allows whites a simple defense—“I didn’t do it, so why am I to blame?”

That’s not to say that racism is a white issue. Just as often, minorities have deeply rooted biases about other minorities as well as whites. The difference, of course, is that political, economic, and judicial power is still largely in the hands of whites, giving whites more responsibility to check their internalized bias.

This is not about blame. It is bigger than blame. Institutionalized racism is about actions unconsciously informed by racially charged images. No one cares if you do or do not, should or should not, feel guilty. No one is saying that slavery or segregation were your fault. I am saying that in order to address a modern problem, causing the suffering and endangerment of a large group of people based on their race, we need to start protecting our reputations second and first and foremost protect our fellow citizens from injustice.

I was taught, according to society’s standards, that racism is wrong and that all people, regardless of their race are equal. I believe that and have always believed that. And yet, it was not uncommon to hear phrases like, “So there are black kids in your class?” or “The neighborhood is mostly black but we get along okay.” Or to hear the preface to a story, “I’m not racist but—”. I heard this kind of speech about race from people I admired, people who were educated, and people who openly decried racism, denied being racist at any accusation, and praised civil rights icons. If questions about institutionalized racism, or their own use of racially biased language, should arise–they would no doubt exclaim “But I’m not racist!” and be genuinely offended by the simple idea that they might possess racial bias.  Those exclamations always end the conversation or deteriorate the dialogue into a fight.

In addition to those intimate experiences, the media constantly conveys two contradictory messages. First, that racism is unjust and shameful. Second, that minorities, particularly blacks, are violent criminals, goofy and uneducated, and that their lives are only side stories relevant in their relationship to more important white issues. Crime is almost solely depicted as violent and almost always beside the image of a black man. Those messages were not unique to me or the media I consumed [3] [4] [9]. Resulting from these messages, I have racial bias. Do I believe that I am a racist? No. But I accept that internalized ideas of race do affect my behavior, however unconsciously, and that my desire to not be labeled a racist is not more important than having a conversation about eliminating racial bias from both private and federal institutions.

People like me, who grew up with these messages (or in worse post-segregation times like the 70’s and 80’s), run this country. Class is largely divided by race, with the most powerful wealthy being almost solely white men, and a significant portion of the impoverished made up of minorities [12]. The powerful elite are prosecutors, judges, legislators, and police officers and they are mostly white. While positions of complete disenfranchisement, such as the abject poor, prisoners, and parolees, are overwhelmingly occupied by minorities. Internalized bias informed by the media’s association between dark skin and criminality (or, in the case of The Racist–overt bias) give far too many people the explanation that the high conviction rate of racial minorities, is driven by character flaws, rather than institutionalized racism.

Despite evidence that blacks and whites commit crimes at the same rate, blacks face much harsher consequences at every single stage of our criminal justice system. Blacks are more often stopped and frisked, due to blind-eye discretion awarded to law enforcement [5], blacks are more often charged with additional crimes, due to the power awarded to prosecutors, and are more often convicted and harshly sentenced for the same reason. One study showed that blacks convicted of killing white victims were eleven times more likely to receive the death penalty than whites who killed black victims. Further, blacks are more than six times as likely as whites to be sentenced to prison for identical crimes, with prosecutors describing blacks’ crimes as motivated by “internal personality flaws such as disrespect,” and whites’ crimes justified by “external conditions and circumstances” [6] [11].

Racially biased institutions come from two sources: internalized racism (discussed above) and political convenience.

When political power and influence is in the hands of a mostly-white, mostly-affluent legislature and that same legislature is awarded significant power over the judicial branch, the risks of policing, enacting legislation, and punishing people living in certain places becomes very high. As a matter of convenience, the police have an enormous incentive to detain people who have no power over them, hold no risk of repercussions, and can pass easily and unnoticed through the system. If the police were to invade the suburbs in search of weapons or drugs, which they are equally likely to find there as in the inner-cities, the likelihood that they would step on a politician’s toes, or encounter a wealthy lawyer, or be met with someone aware of their rights would be vastly higher [6]. Further, there are far fewer consequences in passing regulation to limit the services available to groups not highly represented in congress, than it is to regulate the wealthy elite.

As a result, we have a system that rewards the prosecution and sacrifice of low-income minorities, and progresses the interests of high-income whites—without the presence of the Racist, which would have previously fed civil rights activists with someone to blame.

As it stands, the Supreme Court has protected these interests by ruling against arguments of racial bias. Just as we shout “I’m not racist!” and end a discussion, the Supreme Court has made several decisions—McCleskey v. Kemp, Armstrong V. United States—that require defendants to present evidence that intentional bias exists in their particular case by the prosecution, or they cannot make any claim that racism affected their conviction. This is a clear catch-22. The defendant is required to have proof that the person prosecuting them—who has every incentive not to provide that proof—acted with intent motivated by racial bias. Studies revealing clear racial bias in a particular state, district, or court have been rejected as evidence because the statistics were not relevant to the defendants’ particular case. So while no discretion in claims of racial bias are awarded to defendants (the victim), complete discretion is awarded to the prosecutors and law enforcement agents (the perpetrators of a racist system, however unintentional their actions may be) [6] [8]. In large part, these decisions are defended by the belief that if a precedent for racial bias arguments is set, the entire criminal justice system will be called into question and we will see countless appeals on that basis. My counter-argument: as it should be.

If enough studies exist (and they do) to prove that unintentional racial bias has infected our criminal justice system, resulting in catastrophic consequences for low-income and minority communities, then we should not just throw up our hands and say “it’s too much work to address that problem,” by instead declaring “I’m not racist and you can’t prove it!”

Once convicted, the quality of life and opportunity in communities with large populations of minorities significantly decreases. With a population of men far more likely to be convicted and receive a lengthy sentence, you create a neighborhood of one-income families, and one-parent households. As a result, you create a set of circumstances that is cyclical: the population is seen as criminal and is treated as such, the children do not have the benefits of two parents and two incomes, the city does not have the resources of a high-income community, each generation then returns to the happenstance of their fathers and mothers, while everyone with the power to change it cries—“But I’m not racist!” and “It’s their own fault!”

When fear of the Racist label, racialized media coverage, and convenience mentalities are coupled with the prevalent idea that all economic, social, and criminal circumstances are created by lack of self-discipline [10], we find ourselves in a country that perpetuates the poverty of minorities with criminalization. Racism without racists.

In order to end this cycle we need to do a few things, starting with whites setting aside our pride and discussing our own flaws. We need to end mandatory minimum sentences for drug charges based on a precedent of proportionality in relation to “cruel and unusual punishment.” We need to put a stop to leniency of discretion for law enforcement by requiring substantiated proof of reasonable suspicion for a search or arrest, rather than allowing officers to use vague charges to justify a search. We need to end leniency of discretion for prosecutors by disallowing trumped up charges and plea bargains based on mandatory minimums. We should require law enforcement to inform suspects of their rights to deny a search. We must create avenues to populate the legislative branch with a representative population, regardless of access to campaign funding. We should require law enforcement agencies to spend equal time and money investigating and patrolling all neighborhoods, regardless of influence or income.

At your next opportunity to cut a conversation short with the declaration, “I’m not racist!” or preface a statement with, “I’m not racist but,” I implore you to allow the conversation to go beyond your comfort. To explore your own internalized racism. To allow yourself to question whether tangible evidence is required for racism to be present.

Finally, leave room to consider that your offense is not more important than our collective progression toward an equal society. If you can rid yourself of a fear of blame, you and I can work together to put solutions into place, rather than bury them.