Open Letters to White Guys Like Me
(Racism Isn't a Left Versus Right Equation)
A Retired White Cop's Hopeful, Practical, Unique, Incomplete Perspective on Race and Law in the United States.
Letter #1: Why is the guy writing me a letter? Who writes letters anymore?
Letter #2: Since You Came Back, Let's Drink the Hard Stuff.
Letter #3: So, what do you do? Take some steps in the right direction.
An Open Letter to White Guys Like Me.
Letter #2: Since you came back, let’s drink the hard stuff.
Highly Reactive
One of the best lessons I was taught as a young officer at the Carrollton Police Department was the critical difference between a reaction and a response. Over the span of my career, I’ve been spit on, swung at, shot at and dog cussed more times than I can recall; but we were each trained to be first responders, not first reactors.
Every living thing reacts. Plants, protozoans and people. We are living in an age where everyone reacts to everything all the time without thinking, and it’s usually accomplished instantly on our social media accounts. With enough followers, our gut reactions erupt into a chain reaction of angry futility. It feels like something, but it never produces anything real. We throw tantrums in memes and forwarded news clips, feel heard and momentarily vindicated, and nothing ever changes.
Not everything responds. A response is unlike a reaction. Reactions happen to every stimulus. They are instantaneous, either physically or emotionally. A response requires synthesis, reason, thought and ultimately, a decision. In that gap between a reaction and a response; productive things happen, the seeds of problem-solving take root. With enough practice, care and cultivation, solutions emerge.
Sure, it can be a wrong response. None of us are infallible, or right every time. If we filter our responses through flawed screens, the responses are weakened. If we use the same repeated logical fallacies that our politicians and media personalities employ daily to buy votes and sell ads, the responses will be just as worthless.
The Difference
Here’s the difference between reaction and response in action. I mentioned that my best friend was shot running a search warrant as a SWAT cop years ago. I wasn’t there when it happened, but when I got to the hospital, in a hallway of Parkland Memorial, I learned the true meaning of response over reaction. I saw one of the SWAT team leaders and asked about the shooter, I was enraged like I’d never experienced before. I will admit, my gut reaction craved vengeance.
The SWAT team leader at the tip of the spear explained that the shooter immediately threw his weapon out after firing and extended his arms into the air. He was placed into cuffs and taken into custody without incident. I can’t explain to you the level of restraint that act required in the midst of an absolute storm. Stepping over a friend as close as a brother, shot and bleeding, to cuff the man who shot him, and bring him to jail unscathed; is a response. Anything else would have been murder.
We can choose to respond if justice means more to us than reacting to the things we don’t like. The decision to respond over reacting is rarely as satisfying in the moment as giving in, but the value added is exponential. I will not forget that lesson for the remainder of my lucid days. Through God’s grace, my friend recovered fully so we can still hang out at music festivals. Oh, and that SWAT team leader? He is now the Chief of Police. A good man. Still a first responder, not a first reactor.
The Two Step
All I asked you to do in my last letter was think, that’s the first small step for mankind if we’ll take it in the right direction. But if you’re anything like me, my fellow white suburban friends, and I think this is universally sound advice for all of humanity: learn the two-step. I suppose I mean this both literally and figuratively. Yes, I do mean that you should learn how to two-step, that’s important, but off-topic. More importantly and metaphorically; the two step, the next step after step one, is Deal With the Hard Stuff.
Some of the toughest things for white suburban guys like me to deal with are non-issues for most of the people on the planet. We are blessed, even when we can’t see the blessings around us. While most of the world scrapes to find their next meal, we just keep getting fatter. Brother, I’m right there with you. Fat, and pretty happy. I’d kind of love to be less fat, but I like being happy more, so the fat is just a tradeoff.
There is another tradeoff, however, that we need to trade in if we don’t want that blessing to become our curse. We have to start dealing with the hard stuff.
Dealing with the hard stuff might be the toughest thing you’ll ever have to do. We desperately cling to a personal worldview and reject anything that doesn’t reinforce our beliefs. We hate to be uncomfortable. We’re not huge fans of change. We don’t like to feel like we’re not in control. Hard truths and hard realities exist whether we choose to engage or not. The two step is a choice.
We’re going to dig a little deeper today, and you might not like what you find. Your first reaction might be to type something petty and dismissive on Facebook, which is fine and quite honestly what I’d expect. That’s absolutely your right as a white suburban dude like me. I spent quite a few years fat and happy myself, ignoring the issues we face as a nation, blaming both sides of the equation and refusing to deal with the hard stuff too.
The Hard Stuff
Here’s the plain hard truth about race, justice, law enforcement and the rule of law in the United States for suburban white guys like me and you. We’ve been wrong about a lot of stuff. Forget about the politicians and the protestors and the police; I’m not talking about them or to them right now. I’m talking about you and me. We focus so much of our attention on “they” that we never get around to looking at “we” or “our” or “my.”
I don’t have the time, the knowledge, or the attention span to unpack or unwrap even a percentage point of all the issues we face related to race and justice in the Unites States. But I do have enough space to share some of the truths I’ve learned, myths I believed and worldview adjustments I’ve had to make while processing some of the hard stuff on my own. I don’t qualify as enlightened on any of these issues, but I sure as hell want to step out of the darkness, and I’m tired of being spoon fed lies from people whose self-interests lie in polarity over justice.
I’m a Beneficiary of White Privilege
Hearing the term “white privilege” made me bristle instantly for years whenever I heard it. It made me angry when I viewed it as “they” are trying to make me feel guilty for being a white guy in the suburbs. Although “they” and I never had a conversation about it, I reacted. Then I started the dangerous work of thinking and questioning my beliefs. Privilege is a benefit, pure and simple. Merit has nothing to do with it. So, I had to ask myself, did the fact that I was born white in the United States benefit me personally? Unquestionably, yes. Would a black child, born the same day in the same hospital as me, enjoy the same access to life, liberty, wealth, equality and the pursuit of happiness as me? Let’s look at the math.
My mom and dad grew up in rural Oklahoma. On mom’s side, my Grandpa Bentley was a hard-working farmer in Caddo County. A good man by all measures, he only had an eighth-grade education, but was one of the smartest men I’ve ever known. He saved and paid cash for everything he bought. He lived through the Great Depression and joined the CCC to make money to send home to feed his family. He bought a little farm, and then another, and another through hard work and tenacity. There was no way that a black man would have been sold a flat piece of that Oklahoma red dirt in the 1940’s or 50’s, it just wouldn’t have happened. So, the clock on our family’s wealth potential started with the purchase of that first farm. Hard work, smart farming and the natural gas under that red dirt made my grandpa a wealthy man. Ownership builds wealth. Ownership that would have been denied to another man because of his skin color builds privilege.
My dad was an amazingly creative and talented sculptor. He grew up dirt poor in Anadarko, Oklahoma, His family picked cotton to make ends meet. Like almost all of his brothers, dad joined the military before he finished high school. When he was discharged from the army, he married my mom and they moved to Dallas. Like many from my dad’s generation, the U.S. military was the first step for the entire family’s escape from generational poverty. Here’s where it gets tough. My parents bought a house in Carrollton, which is where I grew up. At that time, federal “redlining” practices would have denied a black family from purchasing a house in my neighborhood.
Google “redlining” for a better understanding of the practice, but it was a policy written into federal lending programs. Black people could not get loans unless the property was in an area approved for black people. Basically, it denied loans to black people trying to move into predominantly white areas.
The schools I attended, the quality education I squandered and still somehow received were a direct benefit to me; by being raised in the suburbs. The schools I attended were better funded, better equipped and staffed with amazing and gifted teachers recruited by higher wages and better benefits than inner city schools. My grandpa and my dad were successful because of hard work, for sure, but the fact that a black man wouldn’t have been sold those farms or even the modest house I grew up in denied the opportunity to build wealth for an entire race of people for over a hundred years after the end of slavery. The inequity exists and persists to this day. The ability to build wealth is an equalizer. Systematically denying that ability based on skin color kept the shackles on while we, in white suburbia, wonder why “they” aren’t catching up in the forty-yard dash to prosperity.
Justice Isn’t Color Blind
We like to believe that the justice system works. We like to believe that if you’re guilty you’ll be convicted and serve out your sentence, and if you’re innocent, the truth will set you free. We base a lot of our feelings of security and safety on these principles, unfortunately that’s just not the way it works. Lady Justice isn’t color blind, and she spends a lot of time peeking from underneath that blindfold.
If you just look at the numbers, there are hugely disproportionate percentages of black and Hispanic men in our jails and prisons. The white suburban knee-jerk reaction is to draw the conclusion that black and Hispanic men are disproportionately predisposed to commit crime. The left side view is to assume that the disparity exists only because cops are racist. Truth is never simple, especially when we rely on anecdotes and headlines to tell the story.
Let’s do a little social experiment. Let’s say tonight I drink a 6 pack of Shiner Prickly Pear and mix it with a 6 pack of Love Street by Karbach Brewing Company. Yes, there are very precise and specific protocols that must be adhered to for science purposes. There are two parties to this experiment. Me, the suburban white dude and another guy that works drywall 12 hours a day. He’s Hispanic, lives two streets over, and a legal resident alien. At the same time as me, he’s finishing his twelve pack too. Both of us hop in our pickups and try to drive to the beer store for just one more. Fortunately for society at large, let’s say both of us are arrested by the police. We are both arrested, not because the cops are racist, but because both of us are three beers past drunk. That seems fair, right?
The problem is that fairness and equity end just after the cuffs come off in the holding cell. My white privilege and a little bit of knowledge help me navigate through the system differently than the other drunk guy sleeping next to me. My privilege gave me the comfort and freedom to know and exercise my 5th Amendment rights. I didn’t answer any questions and refused all the tests. Within eight hours of calling an attorney that specialized in DWI cases, I will have bonded out of the city jail and be home. My wife will be livid, my kids will be ashamed and disappointed, but I’ll be free and home to deal with the fallout. Within six months, my attorney will get everything reduced to a plea and I won’t feel any of the consequences of my actions beyond shame and the thousands of dollars I wisely invested in a good attorney. My record is clear, my life hasn’t really changed all that much.
The other guy knew he screwed up too. In slurred and broken English, he admits to drinking at the traffic stop, tries the field tests and lands right next to me in the holding cell. He won’t be able to put up a cash bond, so he’ll be transferred to the county jail the next afternoon where he will sit for weeks until he’s assigned a defense attorney with a case load so deep he won’t even look at the file for another month. He will sit at county and wait for somebody to do something, they don’t. The months build up and his crappy defense attorney will come in and tell him to plead guilty and take the time served. The guy needs to get out of jail, the defense attorney wants to close the file. So, he takes his conviction in trade for his release.
In those four or five months, I’m made whole. No conviction on my record, just a slap on the wrist. The other guy loses those same months of freedom, the income all of the jobs he could have worked, and probably his car. Definitely lost his license and now has a conviction on his record which will follow him forever. We both committed the exact same crime, but only one of us is branded as guilty. I hope you can see the glaring failure of the justice system here. Wealth, not the facts of the case, not the evidence; wealth determines the outcome of justice. If wealth determines the outcome, the system is unjust. We can pretend it has nothing to do with race, that its education or poverty. But when the rest of the system is rigged to prevent the growth of wealth in minority populations, it all boils down to injustice.
If you want to argue the facts, I’ll set up the lab and we can run the experiment again. I’ll buy the beer.
Well, I’m Not a Racist, But…
When you start to expand your worldview just a little, it gives you a different perspective on things. As white suburban guys, our perspectives are a little narrow and our pride is deeply rooted. We love to say things that condemn, dismiss and deflect racism in the span of a single sentence. It’s amazing what can be done with words. The way we construct those sentences is important and telling. “I’m not a racist, but they’re doing this to themselves, if they’d pull up those saggy pants and get a job…” and it goes on for a while longer. Listen to the words after the “but” and see if they’re consistent with the “I’m not.”
Here’s one of my favorite examples. There’s a big bronze statue of a confederate general in the park that’s been there since the days of Jim Crow. A group of people want to tear it down because the claim it’s a symbol of racism and oppression. How do you respond to that story as a suburban white guy? Let’s diagram the sentence to follow: “I’m not a racist, but it’s bullshit that they’re tearing down that statue. It’s history not hate. They want to change our history.” So much to look at there. We claim not to be racist, then everything after the “but” communicates ideology and fears rooted in the racial divide.
No one pretends that confederate statues were raised as grim reminders of oppression and racism, they were erected using finger quotes “to honor southern heritage.” Well, if that heritage timeline is 100 years of slavery, 100 years of state sponsored and sanctioned, officially endorsed and enforced oppression and then 60 years of racism; where is the honor in that? We lost.
Sometimes it helps to look at a parallel example for things to soak in. We defeated Germany in 1945. Defeated Hitler and the Nazis. Hopefully we can all agree that Nazism was bad. How many statues of Adolf Hitler can you find in Germany? How many Heinrich Himmler High Schools or Ed Rommel Elementary Schools are there in Berlin? How many BMW’s can you spot on the Autobahn with a bumper sticker that reads “The Reich Shall Rise Again” or little swastika flags emblazoned with the words “Heritage Not Hate” flying in front yards? None.
Germany repented, turned away from the sins of the Third Reich and worked to ensure that they would not allow history to repeat itself. They turned Auschwitz into a memorial that reminds us all of the atrocities committed against Jews, homosexuals and other innocent people groups. In the south, we erected huge statues to assure white folks and warn black folks that the flag had changed, but the power structure remained the same. In some places, we never even changed the flags. Germany repented and closed the book on Nazism. The south just turned the page and started writing chapter two.
Black Lives Matter, But…
After the killing of George Floyd, the protests started, riots erupted, the news cycle kicked off and the politicians started tweeting. As I close this letter, my white suburban friends, I want to challenge us and the typical white suburban response to Black Lives Matter as a concept and as a social movement. We have a unique opportunity to respond to our brothers and sisters of color. The way we respond will either close the door or build a bridge, but we have to see the connection and acknowledge the difference between reacting and responding or we squander an opportunity born of tragedy.
There are two predominant white guy responses to Black Lives Matter. One dismisses, the other demonizes, both fall far short of wisdom and understanding.
The first white response to Black Lives Matter starts out as a seemingly sweet and universalist response. “Yes, black lives matter, but all lives matter.” I agree that all lives matter, no one really argues that point here in the suburbs, we’re nice that way. My favorite popular analogy to expose the inherent flaws of that syrupy sweet response requires a trip to the doctor’s office. Some elements have been changed to translate the original analogy into a uniquely white suburban experience.
Let’s say you’re riding your motorcycle, and some idiot cuts you off and you put the bike down. Your femur snaps, and half of it is sticking out of your jeans. The paramedic arrives to scoop you up, and starts asking you about your condition. You’re pretty sure you’re bleeding out as he methodically and slowly checks your eyes, your heart, your arms and your fat tummy. You stop him with your last lucid words before passing out, “Look man, it’s my freaking femur, the bone sticking out of my freaking pants, that’s the freaking problem.” He pauses for a moment, puts his hand on your shoulder and gently explains, “Sir, you need to calm down. I know the femur might be broken. I get that, but all bones matter.” Any reasonable response to that statement would surely be filled with disbelief and profanity until the sweet sleep of morphine finally kicks in.
All lives matter, blue lives matter, unborn lives matter, suburban white lives matter; but when we add any of those to the equation we ignore and dismiss the premise. When you see the guy with the Black Lives Matter t-shirt, the right response is the same response you have preferred to hear from the paramedic. “You’re right. That’s jacked up. Your leg is broken. I’m taking you to a trauma center. Let’s get that fixed.”
The second way we suburban white guys respond to Black Lives Matter is a little more insidious, it’s the baby and the bathwater defense and it works on white people about 80% of the time. It’s based on the logical fallacy of poisoning the well, demonizing one statement by attaching a note from the poison pen. This one is deeply rooted in deeply held fears of white people. It usually sounds a little like this: “Of course black lives matter. Full Stop. ...but the political movement Black Lives Matter is full of dark agendas. Black Separatism, Socialism. The dark ideological forces of this movement want to eat your babies and take all of your money, and make you live in the projects.” I don’t think that ‘full stop’ means the same thing to each of us. When we use the S-word as a sword, that galvanizes and signals white people to circle the wagons, to close ranks, to prepare for the evil ahead; and like lemmings most of us acquiesce. When we’re wired to respond to this kind of rhetoric, it kills discourse at the source.
Let’s forget for just a minute that by all accounts, Black Lives Matter is a decentralized movement. Sure, they have a website and it may have some far-left leanings. Who the hell could blame them? Conservatism doesn’t seem to be working too hard on a solution, and neither are the liberals. When the people behind door 1 and door 2 are just slamming doors, posing for pictures and screaming at each other, I’m sure it makes sense to try a new door.
Before you paint me with the wrong brush, I should tell you I’m a devout capitalist, I like money and things. I want more money and things. Money can’t buy happiness the way it buys justice, but it sure can accomplish a lot of fun things. I like fun things too, so rest assured, I’m a capitalist. So now that’s settled, on with the discussion…
If you’re wired to react violently emotionally to the specter of socialism, consider this little nugget for a bit. None of us really believe in pure capitalism, or in a pure market economy, and I think I can prove it to you with your paycheck and two questions. I’d venture to say white suburban guys love two essentially socialist mechanisms in our economy. Would you put your paycheck in a bank that wasn’t insured by the FDIC? In 2008, would you have preferred that a pure market economy let major financial institutions or auto makers fail? The answer to both of those questions is no if you’re really thinking about them. We love corporate socialism; we just don’t call it that.
So, before you dismiss Black Lives Matter over potential fears of ideology, why not provide an alternative solution? Challenge your biases, root out the source of your fears and start generating solutions to the real problems instead of giving in to fear and myth. It made sense to bail out the banking industry and Ford because they were too big to be allowed to fail. The consequences of failure for these massive institutions would have been catastrophic. If you’re not trying to find solutions for altruism and human decency purposes, then do it for the same reasons we used in 2008. People of color, and the problems of race, equity, law enforcement and the rule of law in the United States affect too many of us to be allowed to fail.
It’s Not My Problem
This is a uniquely (United States of) American problem. The founding fathers we revere for creating our form of government never intended for life, liberty or the pursuit of happiness to be extended to black people. Our government took a hundred years to simply admit their humanity and then begrudgingly grant them freedom. The next hundred years didn’t accomplish much more.
When we flippantly deny responsibility by saying things like “my family never owned slaves, we were just as poor,” consider this...
You and all the generations of your family before you, whether Dust Bowl destitute or Rockefeller rich, if you’re a white suburban guy like me, were always viewed as human.
Let that sink in.
The issues of race and law are our problems too. The system isn’t broken, it was built this way. The brokenness we're experiencing is a natural by-product of the machinery we've created. It’s our collective responsibility to right the wrongs.
The founding fathers of our nation were complex, brilliant and also flawed. When they framed the structure of our nation, they got a lot of it right and some of it flat, dead wrong. The principles of liberty, freedom, justice and fundamental rights can carry us forward as a nation. It’s up to us to fix the foundation, to make it strong enough to deliver on the promise of justice. I don’t have all the answers either, but unlike Thomas Jefferson, I’m not dead yet and neither are you if you’re still reading. It’s time to start fixing the brokenness that results from the machinery we've built.
If you’re still reading, we’ll talk about solutions in letter number three. Here's one last fun test of liberty for you. If you've made it this far, and you're just seething with rage and disbelief right now over some of the things you've read, let's sit down together, face to face. We'll drink a shot of the hard stuff together and talk some more.
Thanks for indulging my views,
Shawn Henderson
shawn@beecivilbalm.com
Letter #2: Since you came back, let’s drink the hard stuff.
Highly Reactive
One of the best lessons I was taught as a young officer at the Carrollton Police Department was the critical difference between a reaction and a response. Over the span of my career, I’ve been spit on, swung at, shot at and dog cussed more times than I can recall; but we were each trained to be first responders, not first reactors.
Every living thing reacts. Plants, protozoans and people. We are living in an age where everyone reacts to everything all the time without thinking, and it’s usually accomplished instantly on our social media accounts. With enough followers, our gut reactions erupt into a chain reaction of angry futility. It feels like something, but it never produces anything real. We throw tantrums in memes and forwarded news clips, feel heard and momentarily vindicated, and nothing ever changes.
Not everything responds. A response is unlike a reaction. Reactions happen to every stimulus. They are instantaneous, either physically or emotionally. A response requires synthesis, reason, thought and ultimately, a decision. In that gap between a reaction and a response; productive things happen, the seeds of problem-solving take root. With enough practice, care and cultivation, solutions emerge.
Sure, it can be a wrong response. None of us are infallible, or right every time. If we filter our responses through flawed screens, the responses are weakened. If we use the same repeated logical fallacies that our politicians and media personalities employ daily to buy votes and sell ads, the responses will be just as worthless.
The Difference
Here’s the difference between reaction and response in action. I mentioned that my best friend was shot running a search warrant as a SWAT cop years ago. I wasn’t there when it happened, but when I got to the hospital, in a hallway of Parkland Memorial, I learned the true meaning of response over reaction. I saw one of the SWAT team leaders and asked about the shooter, I was enraged like I’d never experienced before. I will admit, my gut reaction craved vengeance.
The SWAT team leader at the tip of the spear explained that the shooter immediately threw his weapon out after firing and extended his arms into the air. He was placed into cuffs and taken into custody without incident. I can’t explain to you the level of restraint that act required in the midst of an absolute storm. Stepping over a friend as close as a brother, shot and bleeding, to cuff the man who shot him, and bring him to jail unscathed; is a response. Anything else would have been murder.
We can choose to respond if justice means more to us than reacting to the things we don’t like. The decision to respond over reacting is rarely as satisfying in the moment as giving in, but the value added is exponential. I will not forget that lesson for the remainder of my lucid days. Through God’s grace, my friend recovered fully so we can still hang out at music festivals. Oh, and that SWAT team leader? He is now the Chief of Police. A good man. Still a first responder, not a first reactor.
The Two Step
All I asked you to do in my last letter was think, that’s the first small step for mankind if we’ll take it in the right direction. But if you’re anything like me, my fellow white suburban friends, and I think this is universally sound advice for all of humanity: learn the two-step. I suppose I mean this both literally and figuratively. Yes, I do mean that you should learn how to two-step, that’s important, but off-topic. More importantly and metaphorically; the two step, the next step after step one, is Deal With the Hard Stuff.
Some of the toughest things for white suburban guys like me to deal with are non-issues for most of the people on the planet. We are blessed, even when we can’t see the blessings around us. While most of the world scrapes to find their next meal, we just keep getting fatter. Brother, I’m right there with you. Fat, and pretty happy. I’d kind of love to be less fat, but I like being happy more, so the fat is just a tradeoff.
There is another tradeoff, however, that we need to trade in if we don’t want that blessing to become our curse. We have to start dealing with the hard stuff.
Dealing with the hard stuff might be the toughest thing you’ll ever have to do. We desperately cling to a personal worldview and reject anything that doesn’t reinforce our beliefs. We hate to be uncomfortable. We’re not huge fans of change. We don’t like to feel like we’re not in control. Hard truths and hard realities exist whether we choose to engage or not. The two step is a choice.
We’re going to dig a little deeper today, and you might not like what you find. Your first reaction might be to type something petty and dismissive on Facebook, which is fine and quite honestly what I’d expect. That’s absolutely your right as a white suburban dude like me. I spent quite a few years fat and happy myself, ignoring the issues we face as a nation, blaming both sides of the equation and refusing to deal with the hard stuff too.
The Hard Stuff
Here’s the plain hard truth about race, justice, law enforcement and the rule of law in the United States for suburban white guys like me and you. We’ve been wrong about a lot of stuff. Forget about the politicians and the protestors and the police; I’m not talking about them or to them right now. I’m talking about you and me. We focus so much of our attention on “they” that we never get around to looking at “we” or “our” or “my.”
I don’t have the time, the knowledge, or the attention span to unpack or unwrap even a percentage point of all the issues we face related to race and justice in the Unites States. But I do have enough space to share some of the truths I’ve learned, myths I believed and worldview adjustments I’ve had to make while processing some of the hard stuff on my own. I don’t qualify as enlightened on any of these issues, but I sure as hell want to step out of the darkness, and I’m tired of being spoon fed lies from people whose self-interests lie in polarity over justice.
I’m a Beneficiary of White Privilege
Hearing the term “white privilege” made me bristle instantly for years whenever I heard it. It made me angry when I viewed it as “they” are trying to make me feel guilty for being a white guy in the suburbs. Although “they” and I never had a conversation about it, I reacted. Then I started the dangerous work of thinking and questioning my beliefs. Privilege is a benefit, pure and simple. Merit has nothing to do with it. So, I had to ask myself, did the fact that I was born white in the United States benefit me personally? Unquestionably, yes. Would a black child, born the same day in the same hospital as me, enjoy the same access to life, liberty, wealth, equality and the pursuit of happiness as me? Let’s look at the math.
My mom and dad grew up in rural Oklahoma. On mom’s side, my Grandpa Bentley was a hard-working farmer in Caddo County. A good man by all measures, he only had an eighth-grade education, but was one of the smartest men I’ve ever known. He saved and paid cash for everything he bought. He lived through the Great Depression and joined the CCC to make money to send home to feed his family. He bought a little farm, and then another, and another through hard work and tenacity. There was no way that a black man would have been sold a flat piece of that Oklahoma red dirt in the 1940’s or 50’s, it just wouldn’t have happened. So, the clock on our family’s wealth potential started with the purchase of that first farm. Hard work, smart farming and the natural gas under that red dirt made my grandpa a wealthy man. Ownership builds wealth. Ownership that would have been denied to another man because of his skin color builds privilege.
My dad was an amazingly creative and talented sculptor. He grew up dirt poor in Anadarko, Oklahoma, His family picked cotton to make ends meet. Like almost all of his brothers, dad joined the military before he finished high school. When he was discharged from the army, he married my mom and they moved to Dallas. Like many from my dad’s generation, the U.S. military was the first step for the entire family’s escape from generational poverty. Here’s where it gets tough. My parents bought a house in Carrollton, which is where I grew up. At that time, federal “redlining” practices would have denied a black family from purchasing a house in my neighborhood.
Google “redlining” for a better understanding of the practice, but it was a policy written into federal lending programs. Black people could not get loans unless the property was in an area approved for black people. Basically, it denied loans to black people trying to move into predominantly white areas.
The schools I attended, the quality education I squandered and still somehow received were a direct benefit to me; by being raised in the suburbs. The schools I attended were better funded, better equipped and staffed with amazing and gifted teachers recruited by higher wages and better benefits than inner city schools. My grandpa and my dad were successful because of hard work, for sure, but the fact that a black man wouldn’t have been sold those farms or even the modest house I grew up in denied the opportunity to build wealth for an entire race of people for over a hundred years after the end of slavery. The inequity exists and persists to this day. The ability to build wealth is an equalizer. Systematically denying that ability based on skin color kept the shackles on while we, in white suburbia, wonder why “they” aren’t catching up in the forty-yard dash to prosperity.
Justice Isn’t Color Blind
We like to believe that the justice system works. We like to believe that if you’re guilty you’ll be convicted and serve out your sentence, and if you’re innocent, the truth will set you free. We base a lot of our feelings of security and safety on these principles, unfortunately that’s just not the way it works. Lady Justice isn’t color blind, and she spends a lot of time peeking from underneath that blindfold.
If you just look at the numbers, there are hugely disproportionate percentages of black and Hispanic men in our jails and prisons. The white suburban knee-jerk reaction is to draw the conclusion that black and Hispanic men are disproportionately predisposed to commit crime. The left side view is to assume that the disparity exists only because cops are racist. Truth is never simple, especially when we rely on anecdotes and headlines to tell the story.
Let’s do a little social experiment. Let’s say tonight I drink a 6 pack of Shiner Prickly Pear and mix it with a 6 pack of Love Street by Karbach Brewing Company. Yes, there are very precise and specific protocols that must be adhered to for science purposes. There are two parties to this experiment. Me, the suburban white dude and another guy that works drywall 12 hours a day. He’s Hispanic, lives two streets over, and a legal resident alien. At the same time as me, he’s finishing his twelve pack too. Both of us hop in our pickups and try to drive to the beer store for just one more. Fortunately for society at large, let’s say both of us are arrested by the police. We are both arrested, not because the cops are racist, but because both of us are three beers past drunk. That seems fair, right?
The problem is that fairness and equity end just after the cuffs come off in the holding cell. My white privilege and a little bit of knowledge help me navigate through the system differently than the other drunk guy sleeping next to me. My privilege gave me the comfort and freedom to know and exercise my 5th Amendment rights. I didn’t answer any questions and refused all the tests. Within eight hours of calling an attorney that specialized in DWI cases, I will have bonded out of the city jail and be home. My wife will be livid, my kids will be ashamed and disappointed, but I’ll be free and home to deal with the fallout. Within six months, my attorney will get everything reduced to a plea and I won’t feel any of the consequences of my actions beyond shame and the thousands of dollars I wisely invested in a good attorney. My record is clear, my life hasn’t really changed all that much.
The other guy knew he screwed up too. In slurred and broken English, he admits to drinking at the traffic stop, tries the field tests and lands right next to me in the holding cell. He won’t be able to put up a cash bond, so he’ll be transferred to the county jail the next afternoon where he will sit for weeks until he’s assigned a defense attorney with a case load so deep he won’t even look at the file for another month. He will sit at county and wait for somebody to do something, they don’t. The months build up and his crappy defense attorney will come in and tell him to plead guilty and take the time served. The guy needs to get out of jail, the defense attorney wants to close the file. So, he takes his conviction in trade for his release.
In those four or five months, I’m made whole. No conviction on my record, just a slap on the wrist. The other guy loses those same months of freedom, the income all of the jobs he could have worked, and probably his car. Definitely lost his license and now has a conviction on his record which will follow him forever. We both committed the exact same crime, but only one of us is branded as guilty. I hope you can see the glaring failure of the justice system here. Wealth, not the facts of the case, not the evidence; wealth determines the outcome of justice. If wealth determines the outcome, the system is unjust. We can pretend it has nothing to do with race, that its education or poverty. But when the rest of the system is rigged to prevent the growth of wealth in minority populations, it all boils down to injustice.
If you want to argue the facts, I’ll set up the lab and we can run the experiment again. I’ll buy the beer.
Well, I’m Not a Racist, But…
When you start to expand your worldview just a little, it gives you a different perspective on things. As white suburban guys, our perspectives are a little narrow and our pride is deeply rooted. We love to say things that condemn, dismiss and deflect racism in the span of a single sentence. It’s amazing what can be done with words. The way we construct those sentences is important and telling. “I’m not a racist, but they’re doing this to themselves, if they’d pull up those saggy pants and get a job…” and it goes on for a while longer. Listen to the words after the “but” and see if they’re consistent with the “I’m not.”
Here’s one of my favorite examples. There’s a big bronze statue of a confederate general in the park that’s been there since the days of Jim Crow. A group of people want to tear it down because the claim it’s a symbol of racism and oppression. How do you respond to that story as a suburban white guy? Let’s diagram the sentence to follow: “I’m not a racist, but it’s bullshit that they’re tearing down that statue. It’s history not hate. They want to change our history.” So much to look at there. We claim not to be racist, then everything after the “but” communicates ideology and fears rooted in the racial divide.
No one pretends that confederate statues were raised as grim reminders of oppression and racism, they were erected using finger quotes “to honor southern heritage.” Well, if that heritage timeline is 100 years of slavery, 100 years of state sponsored and sanctioned, officially endorsed and enforced oppression and then 60 years of racism; where is the honor in that? We lost.
Sometimes it helps to look at a parallel example for things to soak in. We defeated Germany in 1945. Defeated Hitler and the Nazis. Hopefully we can all agree that Nazism was bad. How many statues of Adolf Hitler can you find in Germany? How many Heinrich Himmler High Schools or Ed Rommel Elementary Schools are there in Berlin? How many BMW’s can you spot on the Autobahn with a bumper sticker that reads “The Reich Shall Rise Again” or little swastika flags emblazoned with the words “Heritage Not Hate” flying in front yards? None.
Germany repented, turned away from the sins of the Third Reich and worked to ensure that they would not allow history to repeat itself. They turned Auschwitz into a memorial that reminds us all of the atrocities committed against Jews, homosexuals and other innocent people groups. In the south, we erected huge statues to assure white folks and warn black folks that the flag had changed, but the power structure remained the same. In some places, we never even changed the flags. Germany repented and closed the book on Nazism. The south just turned the page and started writing chapter two.
Black Lives Matter, But…
After the killing of George Floyd, the protests started, riots erupted, the news cycle kicked off and the politicians started tweeting. As I close this letter, my white suburban friends, I want to challenge us and the typical white suburban response to Black Lives Matter as a concept and as a social movement. We have a unique opportunity to respond to our brothers and sisters of color. The way we respond will either close the door or build a bridge, but we have to see the connection and acknowledge the difference between reacting and responding or we squander an opportunity born of tragedy.
There are two predominant white guy responses to Black Lives Matter. One dismisses, the other demonizes, both fall far short of wisdom and understanding.
The first white response to Black Lives Matter starts out as a seemingly sweet and universalist response. “Yes, black lives matter, but all lives matter.” I agree that all lives matter, no one really argues that point here in the suburbs, we’re nice that way. My favorite popular analogy to expose the inherent flaws of that syrupy sweet response requires a trip to the doctor’s office. Some elements have been changed to translate the original analogy into a uniquely white suburban experience.
Let’s say you’re riding your motorcycle, and some idiot cuts you off and you put the bike down. Your femur snaps, and half of it is sticking out of your jeans. The paramedic arrives to scoop you up, and starts asking you about your condition. You’re pretty sure you’re bleeding out as he methodically and slowly checks your eyes, your heart, your arms and your fat tummy. You stop him with your last lucid words before passing out, “Look man, it’s my freaking femur, the bone sticking out of my freaking pants, that’s the freaking problem.” He pauses for a moment, puts his hand on your shoulder and gently explains, “Sir, you need to calm down. I know the femur might be broken. I get that, but all bones matter.” Any reasonable response to that statement would surely be filled with disbelief and profanity until the sweet sleep of morphine finally kicks in.
All lives matter, blue lives matter, unborn lives matter, suburban white lives matter; but when we add any of those to the equation we ignore and dismiss the premise. When you see the guy with the Black Lives Matter t-shirt, the right response is the same response you have preferred to hear from the paramedic. “You’re right. That’s jacked up. Your leg is broken. I’m taking you to a trauma center. Let’s get that fixed.”
The second way we suburban white guys respond to Black Lives Matter is a little more insidious, it’s the baby and the bathwater defense and it works on white people about 80% of the time. It’s based on the logical fallacy of poisoning the well, demonizing one statement by attaching a note from the poison pen. This one is deeply rooted in deeply held fears of white people. It usually sounds a little like this: “Of course black lives matter. Full Stop. ...but the political movement Black Lives Matter is full of dark agendas. Black Separatism, Socialism. The dark ideological forces of this movement want to eat your babies and take all of your money, and make you live in the projects.” I don’t think that ‘full stop’ means the same thing to each of us. When we use the S-word as a sword, that galvanizes and signals white people to circle the wagons, to close ranks, to prepare for the evil ahead; and like lemmings most of us acquiesce. When we’re wired to respond to this kind of rhetoric, it kills discourse at the source.
Let’s forget for just a minute that by all accounts, Black Lives Matter is a decentralized movement. Sure, they have a website and it may have some far-left leanings. Who the hell could blame them? Conservatism doesn’t seem to be working too hard on a solution, and neither are the liberals. When the people behind door 1 and door 2 are just slamming doors, posing for pictures and screaming at each other, I’m sure it makes sense to try a new door.
Before you paint me with the wrong brush, I should tell you I’m a devout capitalist, I like money and things. I want more money and things. Money can’t buy happiness the way it buys justice, but it sure can accomplish a lot of fun things. I like fun things too, so rest assured, I’m a capitalist. So now that’s settled, on with the discussion…
If you’re wired to react violently emotionally to the specter of socialism, consider this little nugget for a bit. None of us really believe in pure capitalism, or in a pure market economy, and I think I can prove it to you with your paycheck and two questions. I’d venture to say white suburban guys love two essentially socialist mechanisms in our economy. Would you put your paycheck in a bank that wasn’t insured by the FDIC? In 2008, would you have preferred that a pure market economy let major financial institutions or auto makers fail? The answer to both of those questions is no if you’re really thinking about them. We love corporate socialism; we just don’t call it that.
So, before you dismiss Black Lives Matter over potential fears of ideology, why not provide an alternative solution? Challenge your biases, root out the source of your fears and start generating solutions to the real problems instead of giving in to fear and myth. It made sense to bail out the banking industry and Ford because they were too big to be allowed to fail. The consequences of failure for these massive institutions would have been catastrophic. If you’re not trying to find solutions for altruism and human decency purposes, then do it for the same reasons we used in 2008. People of color, and the problems of race, equity, law enforcement and the rule of law in the United States affect too many of us to be allowed to fail.
It’s Not My Problem
This is a uniquely (United States of) American problem. The founding fathers we revere for creating our form of government never intended for life, liberty or the pursuit of happiness to be extended to black people. Our government took a hundred years to simply admit their humanity and then begrudgingly grant them freedom. The next hundred years didn’t accomplish much more.
When we flippantly deny responsibility by saying things like “my family never owned slaves, we were just as poor,” consider this...
You and all the generations of your family before you, whether Dust Bowl destitute or Rockefeller rich, if you’re a white suburban guy like me, were always viewed as human.
Let that sink in.
The issues of race and law are our problems too. The system isn’t broken, it was built this way. The brokenness we're experiencing is a natural by-product of the machinery we've created. It’s our collective responsibility to right the wrongs.
The founding fathers of our nation were complex, brilliant and also flawed. When they framed the structure of our nation, they got a lot of it right and some of it flat, dead wrong. The principles of liberty, freedom, justice and fundamental rights can carry us forward as a nation. It’s up to us to fix the foundation, to make it strong enough to deliver on the promise of justice. I don’t have all the answers either, but unlike Thomas Jefferson, I’m not dead yet and neither are you if you’re still reading. It’s time to start fixing the brokenness that results from the machinery we've built.
If you’re still reading, we’ll talk about solutions in letter number three. Here's one last fun test of liberty for you. If you've made it this far, and you're just seething with rage and disbelief right now over some of the things you've read, let's sit down together, face to face. We'll drink a shot of the hard stuff together and talk some more.
Thanks for indulging my views,
Shawn Henderson
shawn@beecivilbalm.com