On recognizing problematic behavior.

(Yesterday morning, my mother told me that I'm gaining a bit of a reputation as a social commentator amongst my extended family. It is only going to get worse, and this post is part of that. I am not sorry.)

We're a month past the United States presidential election.

We're a month past the day when Hillary Clinton won well over the majority of votes that were cast (upwards of 2.6 million more votes now). We're a month past the day when a system which favors poor white states theoretically allowed an orange narcissist with thinner skin than an elementary school kid to be elected to the highest office in the country (I say theoretically because it's not December 19th yet, but I'm not holding out too much hope).

We're a month past the day when the country took it for granted that the Electoral College would abide by the rules laid out for them by certain states, rather than their duty as laid out by Alexander Hamilton, even though it is their job, more than anything else, to prevent a demagogue from taking office.

That's not what I want to talk about here, though. Other people have put it much more eloquently and have much more knowledge of the particulars than I do, so I'll leave the issue of the Electoral College to them. I'm going to stick to looking at things from the perspective of a cultural anthropologist (in training), because that's what I'm good at.

I had a knee-jerk reaction to this election, much like everyone else, and much like many people on my side of the table, my first reaction was "How on earth could people think that a man who spews dangerous, false, hateful rhetoric about so many groups and people is qualified to be president?"

I couldn't get past that for the first few weeks, even as I tried to, so I did the only thing that I could. I stopped thinking about it. I paid attention to articles about appointments, about the fact that promises are already being broken (the swamp is not being drained. It's being filled with a different kind of swamp water, one with little to no legitimate political experience to speak of). I focused on my classes and the story I was working on for NaNoWriMo and the only times I visited the issue of the election were in the context of things that I'd talked about in my anthropology classes that week.

I learned a lot in my human variation class this semester (it should be mentioned that I'm very sad that it's over for a multitude of reasons). I learned a lot about racism, and I learned a lot about cultural constructions of race. One of the questions that we had to ask ourselves over and over again throughout the course was "Are people born racist or does society have to teach them to be that way?"

The resounding answer was that it's society's fault. This is further complicated by the fact that no matter who you are or what you do, you will always maintain prejudices about other people. Racism is so heavily ingrained in our society that even the best of us will never really be free of its impact on our thoughts.

So what does that have to do with the election?

There were two groups out there in the ether after the election. There was the group going "All people who didn't vote for Hillary Clinton are racist and sexist!" and there was the group going "No we're not!"

(And yes, my initial knee-jerk reaction lumped me into the former).

I know people on both sides. Admittedly, most of the people I know fell into the voting-for-Hillary camp, but I also know people who supported the orange narcissist (I can't call him the President-Elect. I can't, and I'm not sorry, because he has not earned that title) (I also know a bunch of people who were third-party voters, and while there is a lot to be said about that, it's a separate issue). I've done my own examination of people's motivation in their voting choices, and read plenty of articles on the subject. Primary motivators aren't my concern.

My main concern is the accusations of racism.

I both agree and disagree with both sides on this argument, and I know that probably sounds odd, but allow me to explain myself: yes, I do think that the people who voted one of the single most unqualified people ever into the highest office in this country are racist (and sexist, but let's worry about the racism for right now), and no, I don't think that most of them even realize that they are that way, hence the "I'm not racist!" response.

There are a lot of different forms of racism, but for right now we're going to focus on two: what many people think of when you say "racist"—that is, the actions of people who are blatantly discriminatory towards people of color—and racism as it so often presents itself—a quiet, nagging sensation in the back of your mind that you don't really notice, even though it's helping to shape everything that you do and say. 

I don't think most of the people who voted for the orange narcissist are proponents of the former type of racism. Most of them probably said and believed that they were voting for him for other reasons. Most of them probably aren't truly terrible people. What they are is shaped by that latter form of racism.

That form of racism is culturally ingrained. That form of racism is something that you learn at home, at school, everywhere, because that form of racism was built along with the society that upholds it. That form of racism is casual, everyday, ignored. 

That form of racism still isn't okay.

As I said a couple of posts ago, not being a racist isn't about what you think about yourself. It's about recognizing the system in which you live and doing what you can to dismantle it. It's about the fact that white people—all white people—are racist to varying degrees, and the fact that society has taught all of us (minority communities included) to be prejudiced against the "other." It's about looking at injustice and trying to do something about it. It's about educating yourself, asking questions, and making yourself uncomfortable in an effort to do better.

Do I believe that most of the people who allowed that man to get this far are blatant racists? No. Do I believe that he only got this far because of the fact that the people who voted for him are complicit in upholding a racist system? Yes.

"I voted for him, but I'm not a racist." Wrong answer. Try again.

"I voted for him, but I don't think that people of color should be worse off than me!" Wrong answer. Try again.

"I voted for him because while I don't think those things are okay, they don't have an impact on me or my day-to-day life, so they aren't deal-breakers for me." Better. Not perfect, but better. That answer is getting a little bit closer to the real issue here.

When I talk about racism in the political system and in the population, I'm not talking about the people who are beating people up, or calling them names, or anything that obvious. I'm talking about the people who looked at a man who has insulted pretty much every group that a person could possibly belong to and went, "Oh, that doesn't do anything to me personally, so he's still okay." I'm talking about knowing that he's said terrible things and not having those things automatically disqualify him from ever holding public office. I'm talking about the fact that, for many people, that was not enough to show that he is unfit to lead this country.

Truth be told, one of the most telling things about the conversation surrounding racism is how people respond to accusations of it. When someone tells you that you're a racist, the answer is not "No I'm not!" The answer is "Yes, you're right. What can I do to unlearn the problematic things that society has taught me?" If your reaction to being accused of racism is to vehemently deny it, that's probably because you know deep down that they're right and you don't like being told that you do things that are harmful to other individuals.

(Please see this video by chescaleigh. There's a lot going on in it which is all very good, but their conversation about the response to accusations of racism is on point.)

I understand having a negative reaction to being told that you're being racist, or sexist, or heteronormative, because I have had those reactions. I like to think that I've grown out of them, because my response to accusations now tends to be something along the lines of shrugging my shoulders and trying to figure out how to avoid doing that thing again, but I know where people are coming from. I also know that the best way to deal with those feelings is not to deny the accusations, but instead to examine why it is that you're reacting so strongly. Look for your own problematic behavior and try to address it, so that the next time you stumble across a post online that says "white people" or "the Straights," you don't need to have such a strong response.

Nobody likes to be told that they're doing problematic things, but I've found that there are some good steps to help you unlearn those things:

1. Recognize your own privilege (for a good definition of privilege, see this other video by chescaleigh).
2. When someone tells you that you're engaging in a problematic behavior, listen. 
3. Listen to people who know better than you do, because their experiences are more significant than your opinion. Again, see the video linked in #1.
4. Educate yourself. Watch channels like chescaleigh's. Follow people who are raising awareness. Read books (you can learn a lot from ethnographers, friends). If you're lucky enough to find people in your personal life who are willing to educate you, make use of those resources too.
5. When you see things that bother you, be they tweets or blog posts or articles or videos, examine why you feel that way. Does someone's general comment about the actions of straight people or white people bother you because you engage in that behavior yourself? If so, what can you do to change it?
6. Remember that nobody is perfect and everyone is going to screw up sometimes. Unlearning these things is not easy and it's doubtful that anyone will ever succeed completely, but trying is always better than ignoring the issue. When you mess up—and you will (I do on a pretty regular basis)—apologize and learn from the experience. 

(In case you didn't notice, most of those steps came straight out of chescaleigh's video, and she put it better than I did.)

Dismantling the system is everyone's responsibility, and electing a massively unqualified person who has said terrible things about pretty much everyone is not the way to do it. 

If you think it is, you have a whole lot of learning left to do.

Until next time, which will be some unspecified later date when I continue my career as an amateur social commentator and make a post about abortion rights. I know I've made plenty on Facebook, but it is physically impossible to say any of these things too many times.