What White People Say

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“I don’t think I’ve ever come across anything that’s made me aware of my race,” says Kathie, a middle-aged woman from Buffalo, NY. She was interviewed in 2014 as part of the Whiteness Project, an interactive investigation of what white or partially white people think about their own race, conducted by Whitney Dow.

Kathie’s insistence that she doesn’t, and shouldn’t think about her race neatly underlines why the Whiteness Project is necessary and useful. For the most part, white people don’t have to confront, or address race; whiteness is unmarked and unremarked. For most purposes in popular culture Spike Lee is a black director; James Cameron is just a director. Barack Obama is a black president; George Washington, Bill Clinton, and Ronald Reagan were just presidents. Part of the magic of being white is that you’re the default, rather than the exception.

In defining white people by their whiteness, the Whiteness Project insists that whiteness isn’t normal or natural. Instead, whiteness is a specific, constructed, created identity, which white people acquiesce to, or embrace, or fidget inside of, with varying degrees of grace and insight. “So does the Whiteness Project re-center white people?” Steven W. Thrasher asked at the Guardian when the first round of interviews came out in 2014. “Yes,” he concludes, “but that’s part of the point: Dow wants his subjects to be the center of attention, and the reason for their viewers’ discomfort about white people’s views on race.”

Often, the very thing that seems to define whiteness, in fact, is the resistance to defining or seeing whiteness. In a new series of discussions with millenials in Dallas, TX, released in April 2016, the Whiteness Project interviewees repeatedly think about whiteness in terms of refusing to think about whiteness. Ari, 17, talks about how he’s stigmatized for being Jewish, and points out, perceptively, that while he doesn’t consider Judaism to be a race, other people do, which affects him. But when he talks about whiteness he insists that “the color of my skin has nothing to do with my everyday experiences”—as if his experience and those of black Jewish people would be interchangeable, or, perhaps, as if he hasn’t considered that black Jewish people exist. Sarah, 18, similarly insists, “I never think about my race…my age and my gender has a bigger influence on what I think of as my identity.” More aggressively, Leilani, 17—who is part Asian— insists, “If we want to get rid of racism, stop talking about racism.” For her, talk about whiteness is no talk; when she thinks about her white identity, she thinks about not thinking.

Other interviewees are more willing to try to see past whiteness’ invisibility. Lena, 21, whose father is Arab-American, talks about how she didn’t want him to come to school events because she would be teased or insulted when people realized she wasn’t white (enough.) “Being realistic, I think it’s good that I don’t look too much of anything, because just getting jobs…it’s much better for you if you look white.” Carson, 18, says, “it’s hard to know that I’ll be given more. And it makes me call into question my merit.” Connor, 24, talks about dealing drugs and notes that “there’s been plenty of times where I’ve consciously taken advantage of the fact that I was white.” He adds, ” I would be in jail if I was not white.”

Lena, Carson, and Connor are all talking about privilege, and about the fact that whiteness is not just invisibility, but power. Invisibility and power, are in fact intertwined. You stay out of jail because you’re white, but then the whiteness becomes invisible, so suddenly you have no jail record because of personal merit, rather than because of the color of your skin. Or, as Lena says, you can get a job because your white, and then having the job on your resume is attributed to merit, rather than individual whiteness, when you go on your next job interview. In that sense, the Whiteness Project, by making whiteness more recognizable, undermines the notion that white people come by their success through personal awesomeness alone. As such, it works to confront, or destabilize, racism.

Or that would be the optimistic take. When the first batch of videos in the Whiteness Project was released, there was a certain amount of skepticism on social media from black viewers, many of whom wondered why white people needed to be given more space to talk. And some of those criticisms resonate with this second round of interviews as well. What good does it do, really, for Connor to explain that his whiteness is a get out of jail free card? To what degree is any particular anti-racist agenda advanced by listening to Chaney, 18, explain that she isn’t responsible for the history of racism and doesn’t want to pay reparations. “You can’t get things for people who are dead,” she says intensely. “It’s all in the past.” There is no more racism; there is only white people talking about their innocence, forever.

After each interview, there is a little statistic. In Chaney’s case, that statistic is that 51% of Americans think slavery is not responsible for black people having lower incomes today. The framing is particularly unhelpful; slavery happened a really long time ago, but as Ta-Nehisi Coates documents in “The Case for Reparations,” racism, and using racist laws to expropriate the wealth of black people, didn’t stop in 1865, or 1975, or with the racist subprime mortgage crisis of 2008. Reparations isn’t just about slavery; it’s about what happened in the 150 odd years since slavery, all the way up to yesterday.

“Whiteness Project aims to inspire reflection and foster discussions that ultimately lead to improved communication around issues of race and identity,” the statement of purpose on the website says. That’s a laudable goal. But framing reparations solely as an issue of slavery doesn’t improve communication around race. Instead, it makes communication around race worse. Asking white people to talk about race is useful in highlighting the importance of and power of whiteness—but it also spreads a lot of disinformation. White people, it turns out, are not all that great at talking about race, both because they lack practice, and because part of white identity is ignorance. As a result, the Whiteness Project includes a lot of white people spouting nonsense. Correcting that, or pushing the conversation to a productive place, requires more than a few statistics, especially when, on occasion, the statistics themselves are misleading.

It’s important to highlight whiteness, and to force white people to realize that white identity exists, even when (or especially when) they don’t want to think about it. As Lily Workneh says at Huffington Post, the insights here
included both unsettling and enlightening reflections” But white people becoming more self-conscious about whiteness isn’t, in itself, an assurance of progress: white supremacists and Neo-Nazis are very self-conscious about whiteness. If there’s not an explicit, and forceful, anti-racist agenda, a discussion about race can just end up rehashing prejudices. The Whiteness Project raises important issues. But ultimately, without greater critical context and engagement, racism is unlikely to be defeated, or even meaningfully addressed, by a bunch of white people talking,

Utilitarian Review 5/27/16

On HU

Featured Archive Post: Nadim Damluji on caste in Indian graphic novels.

Me on imperialism in Anne Leckie’s Ancillary series.

Kim O’Connor on the end of Comics and Cola and how the comics community will learn nothing from it.

…and we had a shortened week since I’m on vacation.
 
Utilitarians Everywhere

At Quartz I wrote that the Democrats should work to enfranchise voters in DC and Puerto Rico.

At Reason I reviewed Rajan Menon’s new book on why humanitarian intervention is awful.

At the Daily Dot I wrote about virtue signaling about virtue signaling about…

At Religion Dispatches I wrote about Orientalism in Don DeLillo’s crappy new novel.

At the Guardian I wrote about Holy Hell and the appeal of cults.

At Random Nerds I declared that superheroes aren’t myths, damn it.

At Splice Today I wrote about

Matt Bruenig and the argument that hurting bad people is morally justified.

Hammer’s Taste the Blood of Dracula and sexual revolution.
 

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Utilitarian Review 5/20/15

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On HU

Featured Archive Post: Consuela Francis on teaching race in the comics classroom. Conseula died earlier this month. We’ll really miss her.

Ng Suat Tong on Jacen Burrows’ art in Providence.

Tom Head on imperfection and activism.

Chris Gavaler on how Daredevil is like a weakly electric fish.

Me on failing to write that back to the future thinkpiece.

Jimmy Johnson on the worst television show ever.
 
Utilitarians Everywhere

At the Chronicle of Higher Ed I wrote about how even people who don’t know anything about Wonder Woman can write about Wonder Woman.

At the Establishment I wrote about how everyone has embodied sexual fantasies, but only trans women are shamed for them.

On Splice Today I wrote about

—how people who hate identity politics should hate Trump’s white identity politics first.

—the Dracula Hammer film Dracula Rises from the Grave, and how vampires bite through your continuity.

—how I am more rational than all the rationalists.

At the Chicago Reader I wrote about the lovely indie folk band Mutual Benefit. (yes, the name is no good, alas.)

 
Other Links

Ryan Cooper on Barack Obama’s failures in the foreclosure crisis.

Maggie McNeil on rape fantasies.

Adrienne Keene on that Washington Post R*dskins survey.

Missing the Stupid Future

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This first ran on Splice Today. Travel back with me to that time.
__________________

Back to the Future II. I logged into social media, and suddenly, Back to the Future II. Everywhere.

There was no warning. There was only the vaguest gesture at a reason; October 21, 2015 featured in the movie, I guess. Yet on that slim thread of relevance, , here it was, returned out of the past. USA Today ran a mockup of the future October 21, 2015 front page from the film. The Guardian had an all-day Back to the Future feature. And I had only one, single, anguished thought.

Why didn’t someone tell me this was coming so I could pitch a hot take think piece?

Not that I have any particular emotional connection with Back to the Future II. I can say with absolute sincerity that I have not thought about Back to the Future II at all since I saw it in theaters way back in 1989. I didn’t even think about it while I was in the theater watching it.

There was nothing to think about. It was one of those Hollywood blockbuster sequel which seemed to have been created by a committee of monkeys randomly assembling tropes. The original film was an exercise in pallid 50s nostalgia, and an excuse to watch Crispin Glover. The second was a shambling cash grab with neither heart nor brain. It sat on the screen and twitched. Without Crispin Glover.

And, apparently, though I don’t remember this, the film made supposedly funny predictions about October, 21, 2015. Most of which didn’t come true, but some sort of did. Hah!

There is nothing interesting, or charming, or worthwhile about Back to the Future II. It’s sudden ubiquitous presence is the sort of pop culture hive mind brain fart that suggests our civilization has turned into a giant marketing endeavor designed to repackage our own smelly end products. We aren’t a democracy; we’re a coprophagy.

But if we’re in a coprophagy, then it’s every individual’s job to be the best coprophagist they can. And in the competitive coprophagy, I flagrantly failed, because I didn’t know that Back to the Future II was coming back.

As a freelance writer, my whole job is to write hot takes on the same thing everyone else is writing hot takes about. When the Avengers film comes out, you write about the Avengers. When Beyoncé releases an album, you write about Beyoncé. You’re supposed to coordinate your own brainstem with the herd, so that you begin to lumber even before the mass of ungulates realize that they’re stampeding. To be more ungulate than the other ungulates; to chew the cud first, but not too first. That is the noble goal of cultural journalism.

And I failed. I had no idea Back to the Future was suddenly going to come zipping out of the past bearing the smug visage of Michael J. Fox and dripping forced and feeble irony. I had failed to check the super-secret zeitgeist listserve for shameless freelancers; I had not followed the right trendsetters on twitter. If only I could go back three weeks and tell my former self to pitch, pitch, for the love of god pitch. “Write about how Marty McFly inventing Johnny B. Goode in the original film is a travesty,” I would have told my former self. Relevant! A chance to talk about Chuck Berry! Hurry, do it now, before the future catches up to you!

But there is no time machine that can reverse my woe to “eow!” and bring back the Chuck Berry Back to the Future thinkpiece that never was. All I’ve got is this belated lament mourning my own catastrophic out-of-dateness. I missed my ride in the Delorean, and I can’t even feel superior to all the people who vacantly jumped aboard. I would have joined them, if somebody has only pointed me to the right timeline. I’m not smarter than everyone else; I’m just worse at predicting the stupid, entirely predictable, future.

Utilitarian Review 5/14/16

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News

In very sad news, Consuela Francis, who wrote a couple of posts for HU over the years, died earlier this week. Details are here. Consuela was wonderfully smart, and I felt lucky to work with her and get her to write for us. We’ll miss her.
 
On HU

Featured Archive Post: Darryl Ayo on Michael DeForge’s sketchbook.

Ng Suat Tong on the mediocrity of Max Landis’ Superman: American Alien.

Me on the documentary Nuclear Nation and the Fukushima tragedy.

Chris Gavaler on the difficulty of defining comics.

Me on how Merrick Garland’s unique merit lies in his being a white man.

Me on Air Supply and the virtues of inauthenticity.
 
Utilitarians Everywhere

At the Establishment I wrote about Mark Kirk and hating sex workers to make yourself look moderate.

At Random Nerds I wrote about how the definition of comics today is superhero film.

At Quartz I wrote about how Disney reboots may not be so bad.

At Splice Today I wrote about

—the continuing relevance of music labels and some great releases from Hausu Mountain.

—how Psycho is a vampire film for my weekly post on the Hammer dracula series (this one on Dracula: Prince of Darkness.)

employment discrimination against women and that 77 cents statistic.
 
Other Links

Yasmin Nair with a nice profile of prison activist Mariame Kaba.

Jonathan Bernstein on what he got wrong about Trump.

Chloe Angyal on how anti abortion terrorism isolates women.

Out of Nothing At All

This first ran on Splice Today.

What is good music? In America (and not just America) the answer often comes down to, what is authentic?
 

 
Bob Dylan is certainly a touchstone of authenticity. The roughness of his singing and the improvisatory almost/randomness of his lyrics signal honesty, down-home genius, and virile swagger; his is a world where you meet women working in topless places and stop in for a beer. His references to folk, blues, and country sources points to experiences of pain and loss. He knows about folks who are real, and so he’s real too.

Obviously, Air Supply is coming from a somewhat different place.
 

 
The reason Air Supply is a butt and a punch line is because it isn’t Bob Dylan. Instead of gritty amateurishness, Air Supply has that professionally slick piano tinkling along someplace that is absolutely not a cross roads and Russell Hitchcock emoting like a fruity castrati in too-tight pants. The winking reference to making the “stadiums rock” (emphatically in quotations) as a vivisected guitar pretends to be cock rock for a couple of bars just underlines the gratuitous lack of grit. Because there is no grit. There is only schmaltz.

So, yes, if you’re looking for authenticity, Air Supply is telling you right there in their name they are the wrong vendor. Instead, what Air Supply has to sell is their very inauthenticity; the transparent showmanship of bathos. Instead of knowing earthiness, you get that preposterously gifted voice soaring amidst lyrical puffery like “The beating of my heart is a drum and it’s lost and it’s looking for a rhythm like you.” It’s a towering cotton candy blank; emotions pinned, as the song says, to not much if anything. Rather than pretending to be real when you listen to Air Supply, you get to pretend to not be.

Air Supply isn’t a great band…but some inauthentic bands are.
 

 
The Carpenters are working the same sort of territory as Air Supply — you’ve got the tinkling piano, you’ve got music heading for the ramparts, you’ve got the voice heading up there with it. Karen Carpenter’s singing has a purity and expressiveness that Hitchcock’s helium novelty lacks, though, and Neil Sedaka’s lyrics manage sophisticated cheese that’s a significant improvement on Air Supply’s more lumpen brand. As a result, the smooth surface comes across not just as exuberant bombast, but as a kind of disavowed desperation. The smiling Disney mask gapes open, and inside is a bleak emptiness of soul.
 

 
That’s the appeal of Brian Wilson’s music as well. Why exactly the Beach Boys are critical darlings is a bit unclear; perhaps it’s just that they timed their careers right in the middle of boomer heaven, or maybe it’s the flashes of Chuck Berry-esque guitar on their early hits. But by the time of the 1968 Friends, such authenticity as there was is gone, and what you’re left with is the kind of fruity, neutered vocals that will later lift Air Supply aloft, and the funkless, polished plastic jazz arrangement that Richard Carpenter would clone. Even more than his successors, Wilson wallows in his inauthenticity — the vacuous space where a real self should be.

“I get a lot of thoughts in the morning
I write ’em all down
If it wasn’t for that
I’d forget ’em in a while.”

The next verse is him trying to remember a friend’s phone number and thinking about it and remembering it and calling, but then the friend isn’t home so he has to write a letter. No doubt consumption of weed (and other things) is in part responsible for this anti-narrative, but through whatever chemical combination, the song is about its lack of being about anything — it’s adrift in its own expansive hollowness. Proponents of authenticity often argue that you need to be real to be an individual, but in their different kinds of lacks, Air Supply, the Carpenters, and the Beach Boys show that you can be idiosyncratic and even occasionally beautiful and still be made out of nothing at all.