2020-2 Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People about Race by Reni Eddo-Lodge (2017) Bloomsburt Circus
The preface to the book explains the book’s genesis in a blog post by the same title, published on Feb. 22, 2014. It went viral. I remember reading it. The whole preface, including the blog post and readers reactions to it can be read here.
In case you are here to get just the gist of the book, let me quote some of the essential sentences from the blog: “I’m no longer engaging with white people on the topic of race. Not all white people, just the vast majority who refuse to accept the existence of structural racism and its symptoms. I can no longer engage with the gulf of an emotional disconnect that white people display when a person of colour articulates their experience. You can see their eyes shut down and harden… This emotional disconnect is the conclusion of living a life oblivious to the fact that their skin colour is the norm and all others deviate from it. At best, white people have been taught not to mention that people of colour are ‘different’ in case it offends us… They’ve never had to think about what it means, in power terms, to be white, so any time they’re vaguely reminded of this fact, they interpret it as an affront. Their eyes glaze over in boredom or widen in indignation. Their mouths start twitching as they get defensive. Their throats open up as they try to interrupt, itching to talk over you but not to really listen, because they need to let you know that you’ve got it wrong. The journey towards understanding structural racism still requires people of colour to prioritise white feelings… I cannot continue to emotionally exhaust myself trying to get this message across, while also toeing a very precarious line that tries not to implicate any one white person in their role of perpetuating structural racism, lest they character-assassinate me.”
And in case the above did not clarify the stance of this book, here is a powerful documentary she refers to in her blog post: “The Color of Fear” by Lee Mun Wah.
The blog post, as well as the documentary, really hit home for me. It was a relief that someone has successfully articulate the experience and feelings I shared but could not quite verbalize for myself. I am Asian – and a Japanese female classical pianist at that. I am aware that the bigotry and the injustice that I have experienced is nowhere near the degree that are described in this book, and in the documentary. However, I do identify with their rage, with them, together on their side, as a woman of color.
I read this book, again to learn from award-winning bestsellers about effective writing, and also because my book will address the structural racism and misogyny in the history of classical music. Because the whole musical education system, and the industry, is in complete denial of this aspect of historical background, its effects get perpetuated with the performance practice, concert format and everything else we inherit in our tradition and culture.
The author is a British journalist, and she focuses her book on the structural racism in Britain particularly, but its social effect described in the book is universally identifiable. In addition, while racism in the States is more openly discussed, the British equivalent seems not to be. Many English readers, including Emma Watson, admits to this book being the most important book they have read – and many of these well-read readers admit to not having known about the history of blatant racism in British history, before this seminal book.
For me, the book was harder to read and absorb, than the original blog post. Here is a list of reasons why I think that is so.
- The blog was honest, and deeply felt. While it was clearly logical, it was still very personal. On the other hand, in the book I felt the author’s effort to making it as objective, accurate and generalized as possible, thoroughly based on careful research. I understand her fear. In her original blog post, she states how “if I express frustration, anger or exasperation at their refusal to understand, they will tap into their pre-subscribed racist tropes about angry black people who are a threat to them and their safety. It’s very likely then that they’ll then paint me as a bully or an abuser.” However, it made the book a little more distant than the blog, a little more defensive and shielded.
- I felt a sense of relief from the blog post in her public admission of her resolve. My own projection may have added to the feeling, but I believe what I sensed was also there in her writing. In the book, however, I sensed anger that she managed to subjugate to her sense of professionalism and integrity. But it made the writing hard, as in somewhat rigid, and controlled – I wanted more of her voice, her feelings, her story. I believe that no one can be absolutely objective, and when one tries to be, some dishonesty seeps into the resulting expression. Also, the original blog post was more generally identifiable as a woman of color. Here, the experience described is decisively that of black, in a way that excludes the others a bit.
- It is so difficult to closely examine such an emotionally charged subject, so very unflattering to our sense of humanity. She does such a fantastic job at it. She guides the readers by alluring our sense of curiosity, and the sense of justice to understand the accurate historical background and our current state of things. However, I still found the pill hard to swallow. I don’t know how much of it was my own problem, or the burden of the subject matter, and if she could have helped either any better.
- Although that is exactly what I am trying to write, the idea of intersectionality (that class, gender, sexuality race, and other aspects of one’s make up do not present themselves alone in isolation, but rather crisscrosses, compounding social injustice on the individual) is so difficult, either for me to wrap my head around for my lack of intellectual or emotional capacity, or simply to present in an intelligible way. I’d known about the women fighting in the suffragist movements also being racists and, in some cases, proponents of eugenics. It challenges my naive and simplistic notion of human nature. This author’s struggle as a black feminist is something that I need to do some work on to understand – as an Asian woman, my personal experience has been much simpler and kinder in this regard. To admit to one’s, and our society’s, intellectual laziness is to admit to our limited capacity for our imagination, to put ourselves in the shoes of those facing challenges, and to empathize and to actively be involved to change the situation. In that sense also, the blog was easier to digest, to accept. In the blog, she was simply confessing to her resignation to convince us (in this case, I think I should stand accused – in this sense I am, and perhaps people like me are – half white) of her struggles.
“There’s no justice. Just us,” the author concludes the book with a quote by Terry Pratchett, and continues by summoning us to join forces to change things. “It’s on your shoulders and mine to dismantle what we once accepted to be true. It’s our task. It needs to be done with whatever resources we have on hand. We need to change narratives. We need to change the frames…If you are disgusted by what you see, and if you feel the fire coursing through your veins, then it’s up to you. You don’t have to be the leader of a global movement or a household name. It can be as small scale as chipping away at the warped power relations in your workplace. It can be passing on knowledge and skills to those who wouldn’t access them otherwise. It can be creative. It can be informal. It can be your job. It doesn’t matter what it is, as long as you’re doing something.” I am frankly overwhelmed by the tasks ahead. But I also know that I must do this to empower myself, if nothing else.
This is a mind-blowing book. I may have to read it again.