I wrote a diary recently about disrespect with regard to class. I looked at how that affects care and especially service in the medical field; some of the commenters saw the same dynamic in schools, homeless shelter, even the grocery store. The experience was clearly real, yet there were a few who persisted in the belief it was imagined or projected.
Then last evening I read a diary where the diarist made the statement, “I’m not a racist”. I won’t link to the diary; that’s three minutes of your life you could never get back. Besides, I’m guessing you’ve heard or read it before, and most of us on this site would like to believe it about ourselves. I’m not racist. I’m not classist. I’m not homophobic. I’m not xenophobic.
But can we say that with complete confidence? I can’t. I know that racism and classism (and all the other isms and phobias) are ignorant. I want very much to believe I’m free of them. But even now, after years of working to overcome my upbringing, I still occasionally catch myself being unintentionally ignorant.
Do I catch myself every time it happens? Probably not.
I wasn’t raised in a blatantly racist household. But I’m 47 and my parents were older when I was born – Mom is 81 now. Their attitudes were shaped by the prevailing mindsets of their era, and they passed those mindsets on to us. So I heard casually racist and homophobic statements all my early life.
When I hit my 20’s I had a lot of racist attitudes. I’d have denied it if you dared suggest it to me, though, and would have sincerely believed what I was saying. In fact, I probably would have been offended, and defended myself with the very words I quoted above, “I am not a racist.” Funny, but the more I work on my heart and soul about this, the less willing I am to make that claim.
As for homophobic, I wouldn’t have used the word, but I was aware I had those attitudes. Racism and classism I knew were ignorant and thought I was free of. Homophobia – well I thought those beliefs were OK.
Those who aren’t personal friends can probaby skip this paragraph. I almost kept this essay to racism and classism because I didn’t want to write that last paragraph, was scared to imagine some of you reading it. But if I didn’t include it, this whole essay would have been hypocritical. I’m deeply sorry. That ain’t much, I know, but it’s all I’ve got.
OK, back to our regularly scheduled program.
So, what changed? Well I grew up. I learned. And what I learned is that people didn’t fit the stereotypes I hadn’t even admitted I had. And they weren’t required to fit their lives in the little boxes I had constructed for them with my expectations. I learned that I wasn’t really who I thought I was. I was snobbish, self-righteous and judgmental, and I’m ashamed at how long it took me to even be ashamed. When I finally got there, I started looking at my attitudes towards other people and the more I examined myself, the more mortified I became.
They say the hardest thing is admitting you have a problem. I guess “they” never tried to shake stereotypes ingrained in their head since childhood; subtle and insidious beliefs about groups of people that don’t even cross your conscious mind before they influence your reactions. I’ve spent the last 20+ years trying. I’ve dug deep and examined myself. I’ve asked for help in dealing with my areas of ignorance, and received gracious and compassionate response. I’ve done what I know to do. And yet I know I’m still not completely there.
Here’s the point of this essay: If I’m aware a thought of mine is racist (or classist, or homophobic, or…) I correct myself. So the times I might be guilty now would be times I flat out don’t realize I’m reacting based on a stereotype. Does that still happen? I’m afraid it might, in fact almost sure it occasionally does.
I can’t speak for anyone else in the world, but for me: I don’t want to be racist. I don’t want to be classist. I don’t want to be xenophobic, or homophobic, or any other kind of “ist” or “phobic” you could name. I like to think that I’m not anymore. But honesty compels me instead of “I’m not a racist” to say “I try with all that is in me not to be.”
Sometimes the truth really isn’t pretty.