Staff Box by Janet Paskin

Without talking to each other, no one will learn a damn thing

Racism is one of the hardest issues to confront. It takes many forms: there is the outspoken bigot, prone to racial slurs and epithets, there is the well-meaning liberal who condescends to other "less fortunate" groups, and then there is the intellectual racist, who subscribes to well-articulated D'souza-esque arguments about the way our society does and should deal with race. All of the standpoints share ignorance, but I think the latter is the most dangerous, because it cloaks ignorance in articulate logic.

This is also the kind of racism that I have found on the Oberlin campus. This year, I have been forced to confront it in a friend of mine. My friend would never slur someone on the grounds of her race, he would never overtly deprive someone of the same rights that he enjoys. But he does see things differently than I do. For example, he doesn't believe that institutionalized racism (or sexism for that matter) exists anymore. I do. If he reads statistics that show that African Americans do worse on the SATs than whites, he believes that is because their culture doesn't encourage success in academia. I question first the statistics themselves and then the merits of a test with such pervasive racially divided results. In regards to sexism, my friend believes that if women don't talk in class, it is because they don't raise their hands. I think that if women as a group are not raising their hands, it is indicative of a deeper problem. These are just examples of a difference in the way we see the world and the way our different paradigms play out in a discussion of race.

Now, this guy was my friend before I realized he felt this way. When I found out his feelings, after a few impassioned discussions, I was confused. Was he "really" racist? By being his friend, did I legitimize his views? Could I defend our friendship to my friends of color? What was I going to do?

The answer wasn't an obvious one for me, so I brought it up with a few close friends. Most of them agreed with my gut response -- not to stop being his friend, but to keep our lines of discussion open. So I have, and as our relationship develops, I see that I made the right choice.

In our discussions about different ways race plays out in our community, not only is my friend forced to consider and reconsider his ideas, but I am also forced to strengthen my argument. I realize that he is unlikely to wake up tomorrow and say, "Hey, she's been right all along," but I honestly hope that one day, maybe many years down the road, he will find himself reconsidering. Maybe then my arguments will resonate more profoundly than they do now.

I am not willing to write him off. His friendship makes us both more intelligent, articulate, and concerned. So we don't see eye to eye on some very important issues. I am still strengthened by our discussions. Also, he is more likely, in the long run, to change his mind if he doesn't see me and people who share my views as self-righteous or isolated.

One of the great things about Oberlin is the potential for dialogue. We are 2,800 students, training in academia, learning to make and support our opinions based on our interpretations of fact. And we're in the middle of Ohio. It's not like there's anything better to do. Why shut out a dialogue?

I wondered if I have the priviledge to feel this way because I am white. When I think about anti-semitism, be it intellectualized, couched in "humor," or overtly hateful and ugly, I understand the desire to have nothing to do with someone who offends you. It is undeniably an emotional, self-preserving response. I hope that I would engage an anti-semite in conversations, because I, as a Jew, have more stake in his beliefs and I, as a Jew, might be the very person to change his mind. If I couldn't continue to talk to an anti-semite, I would hope that other people would. I respect the fact that someone who doesn't have as much emotional involvement in that issue might be able to defend my point of view better than I could.

Intolerance is intolerance any way you slice it. It is not fair to expect people to tolerate me if I am unwilling to tolerate them. My vote falls with dialogue every time; the only cure for hateful speech is more speech. In fact, I think my responsibility to speak and continue to dialogue in a heated, but non-hostile, way is even greater when it involve a fundamental value difference like this one. Without talking to each other, no one will ever learn a damn thing. There is too much ignorance and intolerance already to perpetuate what little we come into contact with by silence.