For people in the majority when dealing with those in the minority:
The problem with having friends who are of some kind of minority-- racial, religious, sexual orientation-- is that when someone shits on them for that reason, I tend to feel stupidly helpless. I mean, I wasn't the one of my race/creed/orientation who was a shit, but still, the fact that I am part of that bunch means that I feel like I have a responsibility to do something.
So I was going to write ten commandments, in honor of our Jewish friends who are getting shit upon of late (those of you who are wondering what the hell I'm talking about, go read vaznetti's post re: the recent incredible unpleasantness that started out related to yuletide and ended up in the "Jewish global conspiracy" venue), but I don't think it's complicated enough for ten. Then I was going to write a rule of thumb, but what came out wasn't short. So I'm going with one big glob of a thing and pray that it makes some sense.
(Side note: I'm white and heterosexual and protestant-Christian to a certain extent, so I am for the most part coddled and protected. I originally wrote this using "you" but, hell, I'm included in this, so it's "we" and "us". Still makes me sound like an accusatory prick but believe me, I'm not above this one; if anything, this is a mental note for me, for any time in the future that this comes up.)
If you or I are in the majority of a group, whether by race, or by religion, or by gender, or by sexual orientation, we must remember that by virtue of that status we're like a rich kid on the playground who comes equipped with his or her own gigantic personal bodyguard. By virtue of being in the majority, we are not likely to be the injured party here, and even if we are, we've still got that huge guy backing us up and we can't act like we're small and defenseless and put-upon. The fact that we are in the majority gives us more power than the person we are arguing with. Respect that.
As members of the majority, our big personal bodyguard ensures that most of the time what's on TV or in the movies is going to be representative of us, familiar and comfortable for us. He makes sure that we see in government will also be representative of us. Hell, that big old bodyguard makes sure that pretty much everything is set up to be comfortable and easy for us. We have the lovely gift of never having to use up a personal day so we can go celebrate a holiday, of having the right to marry whoever catches our eye (and says yes), of not having too much of a fuss put up when we want to move into a new neighborhood, of not having to ask, over and over again, for people to please remember to treat us like people. As the majority, we get that automatically.
It makes it hard to remember, sometimes, that because we never have to slog through every day being conscious of living in a world not designed to match up with what we need, and having to face that glowering bodyguard ever time we consider asking, it doesn't mean that nobody else does, either. And when we don't remember that, we run the risk of feeling like it's a giant pain in the ass to listen to people in the minority talk about what they need, since they do it all the time and it's like sheesh, another thing, again? When we forget what we take for granted, it's easy to feel like other people are asking for special treatment. It's hard to remember some of the time that "majority" does not mean "normal for everybody" or "right", simply because it matches what we've got and what we're comfortable with. We need to keep that right up at the front of our minds, particularly when an argument or a wank comes up, because if we don't then the likelihood of insulting people, belittling their complaints, and in general making a huge jackass of ourselves is pretty high.
We need to remember that, as members of the majority, we're scary. We might not think we are-- and sometimes, when we come out from under that umbrella of the majority and talk just as people, we might not be. But the minute we get pissy and play the majority card ("most people are..." "normally, it's not..."), then it's like we've scooted backwards so that our giant personal bodyguard is looming behind us, glowering at the people on the other side. Which, if you've seen that one in the movies, is a pretty lame move, and usually indicates being a coward.
When we're in the majority, it's way too easy to be a bully and not even realize that's what we're doing. We feel like just because we, personally, don't have that much power, that this is the sum total of what we bring to the table in an argument. We forget that as part of the majority, we have more power than just our individual selves and reputations; we have that bodyguard.
It takes real courage to stand and talk to someone who has a giant personal bodyguard lurking in the background (maybe out of sight, which, when you know he's there but can't see him, is EVEN SCARIER). So most of the time, we don't hear a lot of complaints. Those we do hear are either from people who trust us enough to not call upon that giant bodyguard, or people who are ballsy enough to call out both us and the personal bodyguard at the same time. Either way, if we forget that the personal bodyguard is back there, it does tend to make it look like the complaining folks are weirdly twitchy, or are overreacting when it's just a threat from little old us. It's only when we remember that the big bastard is lurking back there that the reaction makes sense: We have more power, due to that big bodyguard, so we're scary.
We can't forget that. We can never forget that.
Ignoring the bodyguard doesn't make him go away. Claiming he doesn't exist, or that he's really not that bad, doesn't make him go away. We have to remember he's there, because the people he's glowering at don't forget. We have to remember he's there, and talk about it candidly, because if we're ignoring his existence then we're indicating that it's okay for him to scare people and bully people, that we are accepting the fruits of his labors as natural for us.
We have to remember he's there, admit that he's there, and above all else not use him. It's easier not to use him when we remember he's there, instead of just unconsciously using everything we've got in an argument, but it still takes a lot of work. It sucks, and it's hard, but frankly if we depend on that big fucker to fight all our battles then we're fooling ourselves about our own personal strength.
The last and final step-- what vaznetti referred to as "putting yourself outside" when I was flailing around in her journal-- is this: not just keeping an eye on ourselves, but on others. Speaking up if someone else is being an ass, and saying, "Dude: not cool." If you're having the visceral reaction that I am at the idea of doing that, if you're feeling uncomfortable and nervous and imagining the reaction you'd get, good. I know, it completely sucks to feel like this, but take a close look at that feeling, and remember it, because I think that might be the closest we can get to how it feels to be a member of the minority, confronting someone in the majority-- even a friend-- about using that majority privilege, even (especially) unconsciously. I think that if we're really outraged at what is done by other people in the majority, if we are serious about not letting that be done, essentially, in our name-- then we need to try to face that situation and that feeling when we can, and remember that it's still going to be about 0.001% as often as our friends in the minority do.
I gotta admit, that scares the hell out of me, because I'm no good at confrontation, and because nobody likes having it pointed out to them that they're acting like a racist, or a religious extremist, or a homophobe. And it's nice and comfy here in my bubble of majority privilege. But it's easier for someone in the majority to brush off complaints from someone in the minority; if it's coming from someone else in the majority, it might mean more. Maybe.
I think it's worth a shot.
ETA: I forgot to mention that my mindset, when writing this, was colored a great deal by the idea of straight people "coming out" as being, essentially, safe to come out to, which I got from this post by the always-awesome ladysisyphus. Highly recommended.
Also, loligo mentioned (and minnow1212 tracked it down) this post (by the lovely Nanette, who I just met in the comments) about people in a minority giving us the benefit of the doubt when they tell us we're out of line on something. It was another one of the things I had stewing in my head, and a damn good one at that. If you're looking for things to help pry your head open and figure out what it's like-- GO READ IT.
ETA Again, 10/14/07: Please also check out this post by elishavah on "invisibility"-- feeling invisible, trying to become invisible, and how nothing can change until we speak up and become visible, both as the minority and as those in the majority who support them. READ.
Also, as I was saying down in the comments section, originally I assumed that only people I knew would be reading this, and since only two of those on LJ are male, and I'm married to one of them, I didn't bother to address how this also, obviously, can be extended to gender issues. (And I didn't mention that it could be extended to people with disabilities, either. Mea culpa-- that one was a really boneheaded move on my part.) I made a quick decision at the time to only explicitly tag a trio of things that, as a white Protestant heterosexual woman, I'd be prone to weakness on, myself.
Extend the metaphor. Use it on any majority/minority issue. When you hear someone start to sound angry to the point of being shrill, think to look behind yourself for the bodyguard and recognize what's frightening about you. And for those of us who are women-- imagine what if would feel like, how wonderful it would be, if all the men in the world who support feminist issues would also refuse to let their friends be casually sexist in conversation, even when we're not there. Then turn that back to what we can do for other people. The more of us who are loud in our support, the more we can support each other, too.
ETA 10/15/07: More links! oyceter's great post on common and uncommon knowledge gave me a chance to feel incredibly ignorant in the most awesome way-- the way that made me think "holy cow, there is so much more to this world than I knew and I will never get to the bottom of all of it and that is SO COOL."
smillaraaq, minisinoo, saskaia, delux-vivens and coffeeandink
have all done similar posts on this thing, and it's fantastic. Another way to wedge one's head open a bit.
So I was going to write ten commandments, in honor of our Jewish friends who are getting shit upon of late (those of you who are wondering what the hell I'm talking about, go read vaznetti's post re: the recent incredible unpleasantness that started out related to yuletide and ended up in the "Jewish global conspiracy" venue), but I don't think it's complicated enough for ten. Then I was going to write a rule of thumb, but what came out wasn't short. So I'm going with one big glob of a thing and pray that it makes some sense.
(Side note: I'm white and heterosexual and protestant-Christian to a certain extent, so I am for the most part coddled and protected. I originally wrote this using "you" but, hell, I'm included in this, so it's "we" and "us". Still makes me sound like an accusatory prick but believe me, I'm not above this one; if anything, this is a mental note for me, for any time in the future that this comes up.)
If you or I are in the majority of a group, whether by race, or by religion, or by gender, or by sexual orientation, we must remember that by virtue of that status we're like a rich kid on the playground who comes equipped with his or her own gigantic personal bodyguard. By virtue of being in the majority, we are not likely to be the injured party here, and even if we are, we've still got that huge guy backing us up and we can't act like we're small and defenseless and put-upon. The fact that we are in the majority gives us more power than the person we are arguing with. Respect that.
As members of the majority, our big personal bodyguard ensures that most of the time what's on TV or in the movies is going to be representative of us, familiar and comfortable for us. He makes sure that we see in government will also be representative of us. Hell, that big old bodyguard makes sure that pretty much everything is set up to be comfortable and easy for us. We have the lovely gift of never having to use up a personal day so we can go celebrate a holiday, of having the right to marry whoever catches our eye (and says yes), of not having too much of a fuss put up when we want to move into a new neighborhood, of not having to ask, over and over again, for people to please remember to treat us like people. As the majority, we get that automatically.
It makes it hard to remember, sometimes, that because we never have to slog through every day being conscious of living in a world not designed to match up with what we need, and having to face that glowering bodyguard ever time we consider asking, it doesn't mean that nobody else does, either. And when we don't remember that, we run the risk of feeling like it's a giant pain in the ass to listen to people in the minority talk about what they need, since they do it all the time and it's like sheesh, another thing, again? When we forget what we take for granted, it's easy to feel like other people are asking for special treatment. It's hard to remember some of the time that "majority" does not mean "normal for everybody" or "right", simply because it matches what we've got and what we're comfortable with. We need to keep that right up at the front of our minds, particularly when an argument or a wank comes up, because if we don't then the likelihood of insulting people, belittling their complaints, and in general making a huge jackass of ourselves is pretty high.
We need to remember that, as members of the majority, we're scary. We might not think we are-- and sometimes, when we come out from under that umbrella of the majority and talk just as people, we might not be. But the minute we get pissy and play the majority card ("most people are..." "normally, it's not..."), then it's like we've scooted backwards so that our giant personal bodyguard is looming behind us, glowering at the people on the other side. Which, if you've seen that one in the movies, is a pretty lame move, and usually indicates being a coward.
When we're in the majority, it's way too easy to be a bully and not even realize that's what we're doing. We feel like just because we, personally, don't have that much power, that this is the sum total of what we bring to the table in an argument. We forget that as part of the majority, we have more power than just our individual selves and reputations; we have that bodyguard.
It takes real courage to stand and talk to someone who has a giant personal bodyguard lurking in the background (maybe out of sight, which, when you know he's there but can't see him, is EVEN SCARIER). So most of the time, we don't hear a lot of complaints. Those we do hear are either from people who trust us enough to not call upon that giant bodyguard, or people who are ballsy enough to call out both us and the personal bodyguard at the same time. Either way, if we forget that the personal bodyguard is back there, it does tend to make it look like the complaining folks are weirdly twitchy, or are overreacting when it's just a threat from little old us. It's only when we remember that the big bastard is lurking back there that the reaction makes sense: We have more power, due to that big bodyguard, so we're scary.
We can't forget that. We can never forget that.
Ignoring the bodyguard doesn't make him go away. Claiming he doesn't exist, or that he's really not that bad, doesn't make him go away. We have to remember he's there, because the people he's glowering at don't forget. We have to remember he's there, and talk about it candidly, because if we're ignoring his existence then we're indicating that it's okay for him to scare people and bully people, that we are accepting the fruits of his labors as natural for us.
We have to remember he's there, admit that he's there, and above all else not use him. It's easier not to use him when we remember he's there, instead of just unconsciously using everything we've got in an argument, but it still takes a lot of work. It sucks, and it's hard, but frankly if we depend on that big fucker to fight all our battles then we're fooling ourselves about our own personal strength.
The last and final step-- what vaznetti referred to as "putting yourself outside" when I was flailing around in her journal-- is this: not just keeping an eye on ourselves, but on others. Speaking up if someone else is being an ass, and saying, "Dude: not cool." If you're having the visceral reaction that I am at the idea of doing that, if you're feeling uncomfortable and nervous and imagining the reaction you'd get, good. I know, it completely sucks to feel like this, but take a close look at that feeling, and remember it, because I think that might be the closest we can get to how it feels to be a member of the minority, confronting someone in the majority-- even a friend-- about using that majority privilege, even (especially) unconsciously. I think that if we're really outraged at what is done by other people in the majority, if we are serious about not letting that be done, essentially, in our name-- then we need to try to face that situation and that feeling when we can, and remember that it's still going to be about 0.001% as often as our friends in the minority do.
I gotta admit, that scares the hell out of me, because I'm no good at confrontation, and because nobody likes having it pointed out to them that they're acting like a racist, or a religious extremist, or a homophobe. And it's nice and comfy here in my bubble of majority privilege. But it's easier for someone in the majority to brush off complaints from someone in the minority; if it's coming from someone else in the majority, it might mean more. Maybe.
I think it's worth a shot.
ETA: I forgot to mention that my mindset, when writing this, was colored a great deal by the idea of straight people "coming out" as being, essentially, safe to come out to, which I got from this post by the always-awesome ladysisyphus. Highly recommended.
Also, loligo mentioned (and minnow1212 tracked it down) this post (by the lovely Nanette, who I just met in the comments) about people in a minority giving us the benefit of the doubt when they tell us we're out of line on something. It was another one of the things I had stewing in my head, and a damn good one at that. If you're looking for things to help pry your head open and figure out what it's like-- GO READ IT.
ETA Again, 10/14/07: Please also check out this post by elishavah on "invisibility"-- feeling invisible, trying to become invisible, and how nothing can change until we speak up and become visible, both as the minority and as those in the majority who support them. READ.
Also, as I was saying down in the comments section, originally I assumed that only people I knew would be reading this, and since only two of those on LJ are male, and I'm married to one of them, I didn't bother to address how this also, obviously, can be extended to gender issues. (And I didn't mention that it could be extended to people with disabilities, either. Mea culpa-- that one was a really boneheaded move on my part.) I made a quick decision at the time to only explicitly tag a trio of things that, as a white Protestant heterosexual woman, I'd be prone to weakness on, myself.
Extend the metaphor. Use it on any majority/minority issue. When you hear someone start to sound angry to the point of being shrill, think to look behind yourself for the bodyguard and recognize what's frightening about you. And for those of us who are women-- imagine what if would feel like, how wonderful it would be, if all the men in the world who support feminist issues would also refuse to let their friends be casually sexist in conversation, even when we're not there. Then turn that back to what we can do for other people. The more of us who are loud in our support, the more we can support each other, too.
ETA 10/15/07: More links! oyceter's great post on common and uncommon knowledge gave me a chance to feel incredibly ignorant in the most awesome way-- the way that made me think "holy cow, there is so much more to this world than I knew and I will never get to the bottom of all of it and that is SO COOL."
smillaraaq, minisinoo, saskaia, delux-vivens and coffeeandink
have all done similar posts on this thing, and it's fantastic. Another way to wedge one's head open a bit.