White Tim White talks a lot about White Privilege, White Peggy McIntosh is well-known for “Unpacking the White Knapsack” about what it means to be white, and most recently, White Mikhail Lyubansky, professor of Psychology at the University of Illinois, takes a stab at the notion in his article on psychologytoday.com, “Going Where Glenn Beck Refused to Go:  Defining White Culture.” In the article, Lyubansky refers to “Thandeka’s Race Game,” a game she shares in her book, Learning to Be White, after a white colleague asked what it was like to be black.

The Race Game, as my luncheon partner very quickly discovered, had only one rule.  For the next seven days, she must use the ascriptive term white whenever she mentioned the name of one of her Euro-American cohorts.  She must say, for instance, “my white husband, Phil,” or “my white friend, Julie,” or “my lovely white child Jackie.”

But this one didn’t seem to feel right for me–maybe because it would be my “Brazilian husband,” or my “Asian colleague.”  Or maybe it’s because I’ve long been sensitive to attaching racial qualifiers to anything–you’re not a great “African-American Artist,” you’re a great artist who’s African American.

What seemed more at the heart was the dichotomy set up by majority culture…There’s white, and then there’s everything else.  I notice that you are black or Hispanic, but no-one ascribes a label to me, because I’m white.  It’s like why colorblind doesn’t work–WHITE can be colorblind because no-one notices your color.  But for a person of color, no-one lets you forget it.

So I wore my racial identity on my chest.  Literally, with my “I Am White” Button.

Here’s what I noticed day one:

1.  The first person who saw it was my banker at the drive through, a young woman I have labeled Hispanic, who asked what it was, thinking that the person she’s known and been nice to for years was actually a white suprematist.  When I explained my game, she said “Oh, I thought it was because of Arizona, you know with everything about Immigration there now.”  Dillon only got one lollipop instead of the usual five, and I was left fearing I would get beat up before the end of the day.

In the absensce of defining or claiming white culture, what is white is being defined for us.

2.  I made a new best friend at the coffee shop where I was meeting for work on the Hyde Park Jazz Festival today.  After a minute or two she said, “alright, I have to ask, does that say ‘I am white’?  The people at the next two tables chimed in once she mentioned it.  I explained the game, and why I was wearing the button, and she (African American) said “Your right!  I do that all the time…I say “my white friends, or my “crazy friends” or my “black friends..”

Wait, I thought, you’re doing it wrong!  Only white people are supposed to use racial qualifiers…you do it too?

3.  I felt really self-conscious all day, and on a couple of occasions actually hid my button with papers when someone I knew walked by (nice that I can just hide my racial identifier when I want to).  My last stop of the day was the post office, and both of the gentlemen behind the counter asked,  one with an immediate “I am white…what is that about?”

I again explained that as a white person in a majority white culture, I didn’t have to wear my race on my sleeve…but that my understanding from the field, from blogs, etc. was that for people of color, they were more conscious of their race all the time.  And that’s how I felt most of the day, almost ‘palm-sweatingly’ hyper-conscious of my white race.

“It’s not that I’m conscious of my race (black) he said–I don’t think about it at all.  It’s that I hear something.  Someone will say something, and that’s what brings it to the forefront.”

What do you think?  What would you say if you saw the button?  Or, wear one and let me know what happens?

Between a Bat Mitzvah (Jewish coming of age ceremony, Bat for girl, Bar for boy) on Saturday and a conversation at lunch yesterday that exposed multiple unconsicous assumptions of mine, I seem to have race, bias, and interculturalism on the brain, and in particular the idea of how culture is passed-on from one generation to the next.

One of the traditions in the Bat Mizvah ceremony is the “Passing of the Torah.   The generations line up, from the 12 or 13 year old bat mitzvah to the parents to the grandparents, and they literally pass the torah–the sacred teachings of Judaism–down from generation to generation until it lands with the youngest generation symbolically ready to takeover as an adult.  I cry every time, looking so profoundly at how we love and raise our children to lead the future. 

As far as the lunch conversation, I got stumped twice–not really stumped, but finding myself having to check my preconceived ideas about “the way things are.” 

My girlfriend, who is Chinese-American, is married to a man who is Korean-American.  Thinking I am so hip and cool unlike my fellow Americans who lump everyone together under “Asian,” I asked if she noticed differences between their Chinese and Korean cultural traditions, thinking I could expound on my deep knowledge and intercultural hyper-sensitivity. 

Well, she noticed differences, but mostly because he was, the best that she could describe, “so Indiana.”  Her husband was adopted as a baby by a couple in small-town Indiana, and their heritage traced back to Germany.  There was really nothing dominant that was culturally Korean about him.

Both instances reflect the passing and learning of culture.  The Bat Mitzvah is in the more traditional sense, Jews teaching Jewish tradition from generation to generation. 

My friend’s husband is in the more global sense, and challenges or guards us against assumptions–as culture is learned, his cultural identity and even values and communication style are most likely normed around a northern European tradition–the one in which he grew up.

But even my friend finds it interesting that a conservative, small town family did something so “exotic” (her word) like adopting a child from Asia.  In fact, when the two of them were taking a road trip (they now live in the Big City…Chicago) to see his family they stopped at McDonald’s, and she said the entire place stopped eating and stared at this Asian couple who had entered their midst. 

So he is culturally one of “them” but not immediately recognized as such. 

And, on top of that he is a stay-at-home dad.  Well, I don’t know what to say now, except that he sounds brilliant and fantastic and defies any categorization you (ouch–was that me trying to do that?) might try to place on him.

Remind you of anyone you know (yourself included?)

Photo credit MHZmaster on flickr

I need to go take a shower.

I just caught myself talking to my husband’s kindly Indian colleague over the phone like he was an idiot, plus I read this article by Tim Wise “Imagine if the Tea Party Was Black,” and realized I am guilty. (This is a must read!)

One, because looking at actual numbers I had assumed the tea party was inconsequential, and two, because, between me, you, the lamppost and my conscience, I would have been scared last week when I had to walk through a dispersing crowd at a Tea Party rally in Spokane, had the group been black.

It was ironic that just next door to the Spokane Convention Center where the Tea Party Rally was held was the Doubletree Hotel, where the SIETAR USA conference was being held.  SIETAR, the Society for Intercultural Education, Training and Research was talking about living and working in an intercultural world (I was in town for the latter).

On my way to dinner I had to walk alone through the crowd of mostly older, white men and women, dressed in blue jeans and American flags, carrying signs condemning Obama and his policies.  My dramatic protest?  I said “no thank you” when offered their printed propaganda.  Ooohh, you are so brave!

Using the Peggy McIntosh model, White Privilege is questioning why moderate Muslim leaders don’t vocally condemn fanatical Muslims, while standing quietly aside and disassociating myself from radical White Christians.

But this is also a good “wake-up call.”  While I strive to be aware of my own cultural orientation, biases and communication style, it is said that when under stress we revert to those first learned.  

In other words, when faced with the day to day challenges of life (balancing work, family, health, economy, etc.) or events more dramatic, we might revert to our “natural” or first learned communication tendencies, and forget our intercultural yearnings.

Shwooh—I guess the good news is that I’ve realized all of this before leaving my house this morning.  Good thing I haven’t done anything stupid like publicizing my unconscious bias on a public blog or something.

Anything you want to come clean about?  How does recognizing your unconscious gut responses make you a better person?

Photo credit flickr Rachid Lamzah

 The anthropological approach gives each group ‘hegemony,’ the power to exist in its own right. It recognizes the inherent value that multiple perspectives bring to probelm solving and innovation.

 The idea is to know thyself first, then observe, participate, interact, to know ‘the other.’ It’s like being an ethnographer studying yourself–being keenly aware of how you communicate (as an individual or business), revealing your unconscios bias, being sensitive to how others react to you, and fine tuning your messages accordingly, with the ultimate goal to create multicultural marketing that doesn’t perpetuate stereotypes. 

Do you know your own communication style?  How do you define your own cultural identity?  If you are white, do you identify culturally that way?

Have you ever been in a position at work where you are working your tail off and all you hear is criticism from those around you?  As explained by a sympathetic friend to me once, “it’s like the idea of a moving target.  If everyone else is sitting around doing nothing, you running by gives everyone something to talk about.”

 I’m not saying there’s a direct correlation here, but I was surprised by the intensity and vitriol in the conversation surrounding Robin Wiszowaty and her book My Maasai Life in a disucssion on Sociological Images.  Wiszowaty left her US privileged life and was adopted by a village family in Kenya, where she lived for a year or so, wrote a book about the experience and now is on the speaking circuit.

The criticism has to do with a sense that she has romanticized the culture and avoided acknowledging the real hardships of the country (that the privileged framework of her travel allowed) and thereby ultimately did a disservice to the local culture and its people.

For a full disclaimer regarding my willingness to state an opinion about that of which I know not, I never heard of Robin Wiszowaty until my fried updated her Facebook page yesterday with a link to the discussion on Sociological Images (and suggested that it might make good fodder for Intercultural Talk.)

That said, here goes.  The power of being a multiculturalist is the hypersensitivity to multiple perspectives.  You begin to imagine how your words will be received or interpreted by others.

On the good side, it’s accepting that your orientation is not the norm but an option, and using that lens to frame thinking before you speak…thinking through the implications and power of your words.

One the flip side, if there’s a fear of always offending or belying your own privilege with your words and actions you can become paralyzed into inaction.

Immersing yourself in another culture is a fantastic first step of becoming attuned to your own biases, particularly if you are of the majority culture.   It’s the idea of being “the other”…moving yourself into a situation that allows you to see yourself through the eyes of others.  

What’s wrong this time?  Maybe a naivety—it’s true that you probably need a certain degree of privilege to make the choices Robin is talking about.  And, no matter how long you live in another culture (or even your own) I’m always wary of anyone who tries to describe “a people” as being a certain way.

My friend frames it this way:

YES, step out of our individual lives to a greater world community… but how do we white folks do this in a way that results in the greatest good, and acknowledges that access to opportunity is not equal to all peoples. How do we affect the world AT HOME? We don’t have to travel although there is much to LEARN FROM THESE WORLDS AWAY.  How do we explore cultures different from our own without limiting the richness of these cultures by romanticizing? Turn up the sensitivity of your vision to see and share the complexity , not “the simple life” as it fits it into a box of your limited perception.

But I say you have to start by acting.  Robin’s language and depth of understanding hopefully will evolve overtime.  At a bare minimum, her actions have inspired the discussion and that alone brings value.

What do you think?

Thanks to Ingrid of Earthly Sites for the link.

At first I declared I was dressed Brazilian, after deciding not to change my shirt in response to my 8 year old’s announcement that “I did not look good” in the Happy Halloween T-shirt I planned to wear to school as Room Parent today.  While he didn’t articulate it, I’ve gained a few pounds on my already buxom figure, so the T-shirt is a little more fitted than the last time I wore it.  It’s still really comfortable, completely suitable, but there’s no camouflaging the girls. 

When I first went to Brazil with my American self-consciousness years ago I thought women were exploited, given the bare and form exposing clothes popuralized in advertising and media.  Until I realized people are just more comfortable in their skin.  This is my body…so what?  So, I’m dressed as a self-confident Brazilian.  I like my T-shirt.  So what?

But then I stopped by Trader Joe’s this morning saw that one of the employees was dressed up as…AN ASIAN WOMAN…Eeeek!  I’m shocked! I’m aghast!  Isn’t that inapproprate?

Well, yes, it is inappropriate to “dress-up” as another culture.  It appropriates and essentializes others by turning ‘real people’ into shallow, stereotypic objects.  Even my 8 year old knew it would be racist to dress up as a “Native American” when we saw the costume, and both felt a little sick to our stomach’s at the sign for “Asian Acceccories” posted at another Halloween store.

But there was something notable about this young woman dressed as an Asian Person.  She was Asian!  At first I was confused, then smiled. Was she purposely making fun of the racism and stereotypes that the holiday brings out.  Or did she wake up this morning and think “oh crap, it’s Halloween and I need a costume,” and just go into her closet?  Is it a political statement?  Is she parodying herself?

So, for now, I’m going as a Jew (I’m Jewish).  And, since I’m still not changing my shirt, I guess I’m going as a Brazilian Jew. 

How about you?

I never realized how “American” I was until I had to do business in Brazil a number of year’s ago.  After sitting through a nearly two hour lunch and then retreating for a ‘cafezhinho’ (shot glass sized cup of delicious, syrupy sweet, strong coffee) with still no mention of the business about which we had come to meet, I thought I would spontaneously combust.  “I am so American” I thought.

Which is why it’s fun to see this breakdown of the “American Handshake” from a European perspective, including an analysis of the typical fashion accents (white tennis shoes, baggy jeans, etc.) common to Americans. 

Why is it fun?  Because inside America, this model American might be labeled by himself or other Americans as Hispanic American.  Perhaps in the midst of all of our hyphenated identities inside the U.S., it would be good for all of us to go ‘outside’ to see our shared identities.

What’s typically American about you?  Do you even know it?

(Thanks to Cindy King for Twitter link to video, @cindyking)

“You’re kind of a racist,” he said.  “You do that all the time,” he added, referring to my knack of typecasting by gender.  He’s only 8, so his exposure and use of ‘intercultural’ terms is budding.  

“In this case you probably mean more sexist,” I explained, “when it’s gender, like men vs women, as opposed to race, that’s the issue.  In fact, when I was growing up,” I said, with an image of Jane, Dolly and Lily in 9 to 5 clearly in mind, ”men who always thought men were superior and that women couldn’t do anything were called male chauvanists.” 

“You’re a female chauvanist,” he said.

“I don’t think there’s such a thing as a female chauvanist,” I answered, admittedly knowing the meaning of the whole phrase but not sure enough of the individual words to know if a simple gender switch would mean what he was trying to say.  “I guess a female chauvanist would be called an…I don’t know,” I said out loud.

“I guess a female chauvanist would be called a…lesbian” my mind spontaneously filled in.

“Are you kidding me?” I thought, aghast and shocked.  That is like every awful stereotype of strong, professional women that exists, and yet that’s what was floating just below the surface.  But I’m a feminist!  How has my own unconscious bias (and parallel to internalized racism, where one believes what the “other group” says about them) held me back?  Has my unconscious belief led me to defer too often to the male leader in the room, or backed down when presenting ideas in gender mixed audiences?

 Moments of transformational self-realization can happen anywhere, anytime, but sometimes it takes practice.  Here are three tips for getting in ‘intercultural’ shape:

1.  Listen to the spontaneous words that come to mind when you look at different people.  If they’re not what you expected, rather than fear and squash them, try to figure out where they came from.

2.  Stick with discomfort, and the moment you start to feel defensive about your beliefs surrounding race or difference, take it as a clue to stop and listen more carefully to what is going on.

3.  Create opportunities to be ‘the other,’ and learn from the self-consciousness that may come from being different from everyone else in the room.

Have you made any shocking discoveries lately?  What did you learn from them?