The place was bright with industriousness. There was a big belief in life and we were steered relentlessly in the direction of success.
— Philip Roth
With exceptions—most of whom answer to the name Billy Ray—white Americans aren't born racist.
But they are, in fact, born blind.
From the crib, white Americans are raised to pursue competence.
Our Puritan romance with competence in fact explains why we idolize so many black Americans: black athletes, in particular; but also black preachers, poets, musicians, comedians, actors, directors—even a few politicians. They make whites' A-List.
The rest of black Americans—the non-celebrities—don't make that list. They don't make any list. You might say they're unlisted.
That's not because we're bigoted, but because we're preoccupied with competence, the gold standard drilled into us from birth. And that preoccupation perpetuates a tragic blind spot.
We're blind, as surveys show, to the effect thousands of incremental policy decisions have had on so many black Americans; decisions about matters like emancipation, homesteading, voting rights, the GI Bill, desegregation, interstates, truth-in-sentencing, and the seemingly innocuous questions asked on IQ tests, SATs, and job applications; decisions that destined so many to live their lives on the margins, without hope or the prospect of achievement, while a talented few become society's idols.
Today's New York Times reports that our abundant incomes hide from view racial inequities. “We so want to believe we are not racist,” a sociologist told the paper, “we don’t even see the way that race still matters.”
But we're not racists and we know race matters. We just can't see how.
We were born with congenital blindness.
But we're not racists and we know race matters. We just can't see how.
We were born with congenital blindness.
