How Do We Talk Productively About Racism On Blogs?

Have I told you lately that I love it when you comment on the things I write?

I firmly believe blogging is a conversation, not a monologue. If I wanted no response, I could go talk to my reflection in my bathroom mirror. (If my reflection starts talking back, clearly, I have bigger issues!)

Anyway, my belief in conversation is the reason I try my best to respond to all comments on recent posts. Even if I disagree with you, I still value your thoughts -- unless you're spouting hateful or downright creepy things. That results in comment deletion, which rarely happens. And I love it when you interact with each other in the comments. I really do.

Why am I telling you this? This morning I pulled my BlackBerry out from underneath my pillow (I know, I have issues) and I read the latest comments on my post No, You Can't Touch My Hair.

A couple of days ago, an anonymous commenter said (in reference to the woman who wanted to touch my hair and then went on a racist rant when I said no):

"She may have mental health problems and bad issues? Who knows? Suppose this interaction made her relapse or slip into depression?

It is our calling and duty to educate the ignorant on matters of race and history, she probably was sent as a potential angel that was looking for direction and love- this was probably her only way of establishing connection and conversation? Supposing she had never spoken to a "black" person before and this is her only contact. Perhaps a lesson was missed, she could have been enlightened with love and understanding?

We all possess amazing powers of compassion, fairness, judgement and forgiveness."

Part of my reply back was :

"Mental health issues are always a possibility. I also wondered that. But as far as who slips into depression, not that I don't care about this woman but quite frankly, I'm more concerned at this point with my own mental health than hers. I'm also more concerned about the mental health impact on my children due to their having to hear someone talking about their mother like this.

..."My instincts told me that I didn't need to serve as an educational opportunity for her. I think we need to ask ourselves why is it that black people are expected to be the educators on issues of race."

Some of you also weighed in and disagreed with anonymous' comment:

"Boo effing hoo!! So it is Los Angelista's fault that because she didn't want to be treated like an animal this woman then gets depressed!! Are you serious!"

Such responses led "Anonymous" -- who is not 100% anonymous to me since this person has been reading my blog for many years and, after awhile, I know your "voice" -- to bravely reply, saying in part:

"Race is nearly always a very emotive issue, this is clear in the various peoples reactions. Firstly, I am trying not to judge anyone, secondly, why is everyone so highly strung? Silly question I know but are WE continually going to react in a the same way to these type of acts? Where is our evolution and development? How long has this been happening? Many, many years! ...no matter what, we should always try to show compassion, (check the definition), if we cannot do this then we are not the people we claim to be or indeed want to be."

..."I am not here to educate people around racism, I am here maybe to show spiritual strength, love, forgiveness and understanding.

**You can go to the comments on the original post if you want to read more than just excerpts.

I found myself typing an incredibly long response, I hit publish, got an error message, and all my words went into a black hole. So I figured I'd start over and share some thoughts that Anonymous sparked, but also some additional things I've been thinking in the days since this happened.

I agree with Anonymous that racism brings out our emotions, and for good reason: It is the most vital and challenging issue facing the United States. Even though mainstream society does its best to deny that racism still exists, or that it exists for only a psycho fringe of society, it keeps bubbling to the surface. No, it's not the KKK riding through town, but racism is as damaging and insidious as it ever was. It causes emotional, physical and spiritual pain on all fronts and we're all suffering because of it, whether we acknowledge it or not.

When it comes to racism, I do have compassion because people are repeating learned behaviors. I believe black people's ability to be compassionate and forgive is an essential piece of racial healing, as is white folks' ability to drop the inherent sense of superiority and be loving. Both are essential components.

However, compassion, forgiveness and love does not, and never will, exclude the need for justice. More justice is undoubtedly needed when it comes to racism in America.

I keep thinking about what happened first on that afternoon, the incident with the old man who said I had "nice tits" (read the original post for context if you are confused).

If he'd instead said, "Nice tits. Can I touch them?" would it be wrong if I didn't care if he got depressed because I wouldn't let him touch my breasts?

Would it be wrong if I was outraged and upset about his actions?

Would anyone think I should perhaps let him touch my "nice tits" because maybe in all his long years on this earth he has never had the opportunity to touch a woman's breasts and maybe he's just curious?

And if I said no, he couldn't touch my "nice tits", suppose he then went and ranted to his child that I'm a bitch because I wouldn't let him. Would I be missing an opportunity if I didn't engage him and explain why his request to touch my "nice tits" is not OK?

Would it be alright if I felt afraid of what he might do to me, or of what I might do or say in response? Would it be OK if I wanted to leave in order to protect myself and my children from such a person?

Would it be alright if I said his words and actions were sexist?

Switch a man for a woman. Switch "nice tits" for "pretty hair".

I ask these questions not just of Anonymous -- I do trust and believe his comments come from a sincere place -- but of our culture as a whole. Am I perhaps a bit sarcastic in my tone? Probably. I try not to be because it's not productive, but I know my sarcasm comes from hurt. This incident with the woman will not be the last time someone tries to touch my hair, tries to violate my physical space out of what I believe is a racial sense of superiority. Racial superiority made her think she had the right to touch my hair, and the right to go on a racist rant about me to her child.

My "naming" what she did as racist and wrong doesn't mean I don't feel compassion for her -- well, moreso for her child-- and it doesn't mean I don't forgive her. In that instance, I did not have the capacity to think of anything else but getting away, protecting myself, protecting my children.

All of this leads me to wonder, how do we productively talk about racism on blogs? I wrote about what happened on this blog because there is pain, but no justice for me and I needed somewhere to put those feelings of hurt so that I can be a somewhat sane and functional parent for my children. I do know justice would not have been me slapping the mess out of her and holding her head underwater. For that reason alone, because I knew I was feeling that urge to do so, it was better for me to walk away. Maybe that is how I demonstrated spiritual strength in that situation.

I know the racial miasma that exists in our current society chips away at my psyche a little bit every day. At night when I say my prayers, and again at dawn when I do so again, I ask God to build my armor back up so I can deal with a world that wants me to believe I'm nothing but a black bitch of little value.

Being exposed to racism is being exposed to a poison. Am I to pretend that poison is not sickening me just because I'm exposed gradually and have built up a tolerance? I think not.

I need to feel I can share freely and honestly about what I observe in our society, what happens to me and my children, not just about doing fun stuff like going to the beach or Disneyland.

If I can't be honest about racism, I might as well shut this blog down. There's enough lying about the subject and pretending it doesn't exist as it is.

However, I want you all to be able to be honest, too. And it's fine if you respectfully disagree with me and each other. I say this because Anonymous also said:

"Why do we judge people in this way? Condemnation and scorn which can be quite virulent. For example you people do not even know me yet you are quick to condemn my opinions in a very robust and defensive way. Defending Liz like she needs defending. This makes me not want to post anymore opininions because the negative reactions scare me. I do not want to upset anyone, I was only joining in a global discussion on a very important issue. I do not have to conform to the status quo's opinion. I do not have to have a shared history or viewpoint or hold the same opinions. This makes me feel unsure about control and conformity and about honest, open, truthful discussion. I do not think like everyone else because I do not want to."

Sometimes I do need defending. I am not so strong that I don't sometimes need protection. I am not so invincible that my heart does not sometimes break. I am not so hard that I don't shed tears when I am hurt.

But, I don't want Anonymous or anybody else to feel that way. It's important to me that we remember that these conversations about the ills that plague our society are difficult even in a room where everyone has known each other for years, loves and respects each other and can read body language.

The Internet is fabulous in that it enables us strangers to discuss anything we desire. But it's imperfect in that we cannot read the sincerity of each others hearts. We cannot look into each others eyes and see our souls crying out for love and understanding. Again, how do we talk about racism on blogs given these constraints?

I don't think I have all the answers. I can only narcissistically share my imperfect thoughts with you. To Anonymous and everyone else, thank you for sharing with me. I hope you continue to do so.