At dinner a couple of nights ago, my parents asked numerous questions about my classes from the past semester and what important lessons I learned. This conversation occurred right after I completed the eight hour drive to Minnesota, and thus I provided them with superficial answers to the questions because I felt far more concerned about taking a nap. After several hours of sleep, I reconsidered their questions and realized that this Psychology of Racism course really changed a lot of my perspectives and thought processes. I noticed in the past couple of days that I started to notice race and racism displayed all around me, all the time. Advertisements on television, the cast of a particular movie, comments made by a friend, magazine articles – the list goes on and on, but I find it remarkable how ubiquitous this topic is in our society. I remember on the first day of class when everyone discussed how race impacted their lives, I felt nervous and apprehensive when it came my turn to talk because I literally had no concept of how racism influences my life. Even though I realize that as a White female raised in a predominantly White community I experienced the privilege of “being part of the racial norm” and took this “for granted without conscious consideration of their White privilege,” it remains astounding to me that I remained largely oblivious to this issue until my junior year of college (Tatum, 95).

In addition to providing me with a revolutionized view on how systematic racism (or any ism for that matter) functions in society, this course also prepared me well for helping to combat these cycles of oppression. Since high school, one of my biggest pet peeves occurs when someone uses “gay” or “retarded” to describe an object that clearly has no sexual orientation or learning disability. From high school to sophomore year of college I felt comfortable asking close friends to refrain from uses such phrases, but I never felt confident enough to confront an acquaintance with the issue. Since this course however, I found that I often feel self-assured enough to ask even acquaintances to refrain from utilizing these phrases around me. This new-found assertiveness extends beyond asking others to not use gay/retarded to racial slurs and jokes as well. I believe this ability comes from the knowledge of how cyclical isms continue to rotate unless confronted, and that challenging the status quo might “inspire real and lasting change” (Ayvazian, 600). So I guess in answer to my parents questions, I really learned a great deal of important lessons this semester.

Last Wednesday on Reading Day, I studied in one of the coveted Ames group study rooms with a couple friends for almost the entire day. Throughout the day we occasionally wandered off topic, and an interesting conversation started when a friend mentioned a volunteer opportunity he participated in a couple weekends ago. He mentioned how he worked with “people from a low-income, governmental housing neighborhood in Bloomington.” My face reacted to this comment and he asked what I was thinking about. Remembering my observations from the state of dialogue essay and the Kivel reading about speaking in “code words,” I told him about how White Americans tend to speak in code words to disguise actually discussing the topic of race. I attempted to explain this in a non-accusatory and informative manner, but he reacted with annoyance and anger. This friend also witnessed Megan Gleason confront the track team at dinner about a racist joke, and he clearly had no interest in hearing about what both her and I learned in this course. He said something to the effect of “Megan told the track team a ‘wrong’ definition of racism” and that “I wish that you two had not taken this course because you keep correcting and psycho-analyzing everything I say.” I really did not know how to respond to this comment, so I dropped the topic and returned to my studying. I wanted to scream something to the effect of “Of course it does not matter to you because you are White, male, heterosexual and Christian” but I refrained because I knew this would not lead to a positive situation. Afterward I felt so frustrated towards him in a similar way to how the men in “Color of Fear” felt towards David. It just seemed that this friend would invalidate and discount any argument Megan or I made about how racism functions in society. This whole experience just made me think about how to effectively talk to friends, who seem to not care about how White privilege benefits them, about the knowledge gained in this course. In this particular situation, even though I attempted to sound uncritical and nonjudgmental, I ended up angering a friend and returning back to the original silence. Later in the day I read the Interrupting the Cycle of Oppression article by Andrea Ayvazian. She discussed in the "Preparing for the Long Haul" section how confronting racism involves making mistakes and screwing up while in the situation. This provided me with some encouragement that with time and more thought, hopefully I can develop a way to talk to more close-minded friends in a way that stimulates rather than silences dialogue about race.

This afternoon I saw a newly released movie entitled The Soloist. The film starred Robert Downy Jr. who played a Los Angeles Times reporter (Steve Lopez) who wrote articles about Jamie Foxx who acted as a schizophrenic homeless man (Nathanial Ayers) with an incredible talent for the cello. Much of the friendship between these two men took place in the neighborhood outside the Lamp Community Center which provided services to the homeless. When Lopez first cautiously and fearfully drives into this community, the camera bombards viewers with images of violence, drugs and poverty. One distinctive social encounter occurs when a large and muscular Black man aggressively approaches Lopez while flexing his muscles. This intense and angry encounter illustrates one of my many examples outside the Lamp Community Center that show tension between the White protagonist and the Black homeless citizens. While watching these powerful images, I felt upset not only because it probably represents a reality for much of the homeless population in Los Angeles but also because of the stereotypes portrayed in these images. In the first weeks of class, we discussed a chapter in the Uprooting Racism text where Kivel asked questions such as “Do you hold your purse closer to you (lock your car doors, etc.) when you see a man of color approach you?” Kivel wrote about how these habitual reactions result from the stereotypes integrated into our minds through society and media. While The Soloist featured a couple admirable and helpful Black men, the overwhelming portrayal of this group (besides the homeless and mentally ill protagonist) came through images of violence, abuse and aggression. I could not help but to think how these representations shaped the thoughts of the audience. Overall, I felt very mixed reactions to the content and message of the movie. On one hand, it promoted awareness of the staggering poverty that continues to exist in the United States. The film delivered a powerful message about the inequalities in our country, and it certainty impacted my entire family. On the other hand, the film depicted also many scenes of crime and violence that involved primarily Black men and I wonder how these pictures contributed to producing a “fear-based society in which no one feels safe” (Kivel, 66).

This past week for class I read an article entitled The White Girl in Me, the Colored Girl in You, and the Lesbian in Us: Crossing Boundaries. The authors, Medria Connolly and Debra Noumair, discussed the perspective that “differences such as race, gender, and sexual orientation of ‘others’ are often used as receptacles for the unwanted aspects of oneself,” and subsequently their personal experiences in discovering the “other” within themselves (322). It never occurred to me that an important aspect of breaking down individual stereotypes could involve investigating how I personally embody the “other.” I found the article quite interesting because it provided a different approach to combating racism and increasing communication from many of the other material encountered in this course.

When reading the article, though, I noticed in the process of breaking down prejudices, it seemed that the authors continued to uphold many existing stereotypes. Connolly describes how in her mind “white girl behavior can take various forms. It involves talking proper…presenting one’s self with a neutral affect…engaging through personal connections…[and] acting as if one really needs the support of others” (326). This illustrates one of several examples when the authors describe in stereotypical terms what it means to be White, Black or homosexual. I understand that in the process of identifying how one embodies the “other,” one must first define characteristics of that other group. Additionally I understand that these authors are exploring this exercise for the first time, and that sharing their personal experiences on paper must have been a challenging task. Despite this though, it seemed that these descriptions of the “other” might simply perpetuate the stereotypes that they originally attempted to destroy.

The next day while reading through blogs, I read an entry by Amanda S. that related to these thoughts. I could not figure out how to comment because she registered her blog on another site, so I am going to include my comments here. Amanda discussed how in Brothers and Sisters, many of the characters “were accused of ‘acting White,’” and that she believes that “the whole idea of ‘acting White’ or ‘acting Black’ seems to perpetuate the stereotypes that can lead to prejudice and racism.” While Amanda’s blog provided some support for my notion that perhaps labeling behavior as “acting White” or “acting Black” simply propagates stereotypes, I realized after more thought that there is an important difference in context between the situations that Amanda and I considered. Amanda observed this trend in a social and work setting where such classifications perhaps contributed to stronger prejudices, while I noticed it in an academic setting where the purpose of defining “acting White” was to identify “the other” in oneself. This realization made me reconsider my original reaction to the Connolly and Noumair’s article.

When talking about the state of dialogue on campus in class a couple weeks ago, I felt surprised and encouraged that some students felt positively about the discussion on Wesleyan’s campus for my perception was overwhelmingly negative. The majority of examples that popped into my mind when writing the reflection consisted of derogatory comments and insulting jokes that I overheard friends making about race. Over the next couple weeks I decided to pay closer attention to the conversations I witnessed. I hypothesized that dialogue about race happened much more often than I realized when paying close attention.

With close observation of different conservations I was involved in, I began to find substantial evidence for the notion that White Americans “actually talk about race all the time” but do so by utilizing “code words” (Kivel, 58). The first striking example that I experienced occurred off-campus when talking about violence and crime on campus with extended family. A relative was interested in the crime rates on Illinois Wesleyan and another small liberal arts college that one of my cousins attends. I noticed immediately that everyone spoke in code words because as an entirely White family we “can count on a mutual (white) understanding of the implications of the words without having to specify [a] comment is about race” (Kivel, 58). I mentioned that a couple violent attacks occurred on campus in the last couple of years, and one family member commented on how the location of Wesleyan’s campus next to a “low-income” neighborhood perhaps increases the rate of crime. After this initial observation of code words in action, I began to detect these words quite frequently in several different settings. When talking about politics and current events it seemed that phrases like “inner city” students and “low income” communities came up repeatedly and allowed White people (myself included) to talk about race “without having to admit to doing do” (Kivel, 58).

While I noticed this pattern prior to writing my reflection about the state of dialogue on campus, I had no concept of how common these colored-coded words are until really paying attention to the discussion around me. In my initial campus dialogue paper, I wrote about how students seemed to conform strongly to the societal norms – especially the status quo of silence. After recognizing the recurrent and repeated use of these code words, I would revise my paper to state that students on campus seem to actually converse about race daily and comfortably. These discussions on race, however, center around the use of codes and stereotypes, and consequently perpetuate the “awful, uncomfortable silence” (Kivel, 58).