“No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” – Eleanor Roosevelt
I’ve seen a lot of debate over this sentiment, and its origin. I don’t think it excuses wrongdoing. Obviously people can and do treat others as inferior, but we aren’t obligated to feel inferior. It doesn’t define us. I can block a punch. It’s still wrong to take a swing at me. I think people on both sides of that debate struggle with the distinction.
I was born an American citizen abroad in West Germany. In kindergarten, my Arizona school thought I had developmental delays (only they used a different term back then) because I sometimes code switched English and German, which is common in bilingual children, and because I always wanted to color when I was supposed to build with blocks, or build with blocks when I was supposed to color. My parents asked if I was otherwise able to color or build with blocks, and the answer was yes. They decided they weren’t worried. I was placed in English as a Second Language. I only remember being pulled from class to color with another first grader whose first language was Chinese, and wishing we were in class with the other kids because I was bored, and I think he was bored, too.
Once I brought in pictures and the model of a jet airplane for show and tell because my dad was a pilot in the German air force. The next day a blond boy with blue eyes told me his dad said we couldn’t be friends because I was a Nazi, not because of anything I said or did, just because I was German. I asked my parents what it meant, and learned about the Holocaust. Naturally I decided there was nothing worse than Nazis, but because I was too young to fully comprehend, I decided to stop speaking German. Another formative moment is when the same boy pulled up my skirt during recess. He got in trouble, but I was lectured for playing in the sandbox in a dress even though it wasn’t against the rules, and nobody made it an issue before (my earliest #metoo memory).
In second grade, the teacher put me in the lowest reading group because I’d been in ESL even though I was an avid reader with good grades. I kept bugging her, and she’d bump me up one group at a time until I was satisfied with my placement. I got in trouble for talking a lot through fourth grade, sometimes for “talking back” because I’d correct teachers. I often felt frustrated with the inability of adults to admit they were wrong. When I taught full time, I’d make deliberate mistakes the first day to show students even adults make mistakes, and model how to make and accept corrections gracefully. And as a parent, I apologize when I mess up.
By middle school (such as it was at my K-8), I was tired of losing recess. I also had a competitive streak and insatiable curiosity so I focused on schoolwork and reading. Staying out of trouble was a natural byproduct of my personal motivations. Some peers preferred gossiping, toilet papering houses, and playing a knock-and-run prank with a name that included a racist slur. When I abstained, I became a target. Once school released balloons from a fast food restaurant to thank a local franchise owner for donating money. The principal threatened to write me up because I politely declined for environmental concerns. Now those same peers who bullied me for being “a goody goody” were mad that I wouldn’t do what I was told. Even then, I recognized the difference between their performative brand of rebellion, and defending a worthy cause.
I also started picking up on the lies we’re taught about history as some of it became less whitewashed, and I learned the rest on my own. That’s when I started to understand the depth of white supremacy. I wasn’t born bad, but I knew I would be if I turned a blind eye to injustice. Adults who lie to themselves and others to avoid ambivalence I confronted as a child became another source of frustration.
Speaking of injustice, Breonna Taylor’s killers still haven’t been arrested. Call 844-298-2731 to demand justice.
If you’re tired of hearing about racism, imagine how tired others are of living it. Recently I explained to someone that once some people decided to define other people by skin color, racism infiltrated every facet of society. You can’t just ignore the problem away. Someone said I must be tired of having to explain, but I doubt it compares to the sheer exhaustion from having to defend your very existence. I deal with being dehumanized as a woman, but women of color deal with that, and more. I see parallels with the treatment of sexual assault victims (“what was she wearing?”) when people blame victims of police brutality. When police shot Tamir Rice on sight, people noted his size as if it made him less of a child, not unlike the way curvy girls of any race are treated as fair game for predators. The defensiveness of people choosing to center themselves and internalize criticism of racism, sexism, or both holds everyone back.
Privilege remains a point of contention. Recently I saw a woman ask, “what power do I have?”
My answer is the power she gives away every time she chooses to uphold white supremacy instead of supporting equality. Any time we consent to a system of hierarchy that treats some people as more “valuable” than other people, we enable our own demise.
While some protest racism, others continue to protest masks as a threat to individuality. I wear a mask out of consideration for others. I’ve never had a problem questioning those in authority when I disagree, and the “authorities” are divided, besides.
I don’t do what I’m told. I do what I think is right.
I’ve also been called weird so many times since I was little, I’m confident my individuality remains intact with or without a mask.
