It’s Not Your Fault, Dave

My friend Dave posted on Facebook for the first time last Tuesday. And it was a doozy. Another friend, in a private text, asked Dave: “couldn’t you make your [Facebook] debut with some cute dog pics?” Dave chose to go in another direction – to launch a scathing attack on himself. To blame himself for the vexing problem of institutional racism in our society.

Dave’s despair-fueled suggestion that he is at fault for institutional racism is preposterous. And it caught my attention because …

Dave is a middle-aged white man, like me. He is a lawyer, like me. Before he retired, he spent his entire career at a large law firm in Chicago, like me. He commuted to a comfortable office from a cozy house in the suburbs via Metra (when we still did that kind of thing), like me. He got married to his high school sweetheart, like me. They had kids and dogs and vacations and all the good stuff, like us.

Given the parallels, Dave’s first Facebook post hit a little too close to home. Here’s the post:

WHAT IF IT’S MY FAULT?

I have never posted to Facebook. And I really don’t much care for political posts. But maybe now is the time.

I have led a nice, comfortable life. I am politically knowledgeable and have a 100% Democratic voting record. I share with many utter disgust of a President who is a narcissistic troll, offering nothing in the way of national unity. And now it is time for the all important “but.” Because while his defeat in November is necessary for any hope of a better America, it is not sufficient. And it is not sufficient at least in part because I have never done anything meaningful to make this country a land of equality, certainly not for African-Americans. Nor Hispanics, nor Native Americans, nor any other marginalized group.

It is easy to think you are on the side of right by opposing the horror currently occupying the West Wing. But the carnage inflicted on minority communities is not his fault alone. It is the fault of a man who spent thirty years working at a large law firm that, like all large law firms, was disproportionately white and who never spoke in protest. It is the fault of a man who daily took a train from his safe suburban house to his safe downtown office without giving a thought to the lives of the people in between those points—people with no money, shoddy schools, a police force dressed like an occupying army, and so little hope. It is the fault of a man who would say he is not in any way racist, who would say all the right, woke things, but whose friends all share his pasty skin tone. It is the fault of a man who was one of many beneficiaries of a system of institutional racism, who knew that the contest was rigged in his favor, but who silently accepted the benefits.

I don’t pretend to know how to fix any of this. But it is a massive problem and it is my fault. So bring on the massive solutions. Reparations, wealth transfers, tax the hell out of me and others who can afford it. I am at fault, so if I whine about fairness, do not listen to me. I have been on the plus side of “fairness” for over six decades. Time for a change.

Dave, Facebook, june 2, 2020

To my knowledge, no one has ever accused Dave of being a racist, and if you know him or know his work, you couldn’t possibly reach that conclusion. He is a sarcastic smart ass, and one of the brightest people I know. He is a good enough friend that I will say most anything in his presence. Yet I’m always a little guarded if our conversation turns away from something I know well – like sports or Italian beef sandwiches. If I’m wrong about something, he won’t simply nod in faux agreement like so many people. He’ll let me know if he doesn’t agree with me, and he’ll tell me why, if I care to listen. And Dave does something that is too rare – if he is engaged on a subject on which he doesn’t really know enough to form an intelligent opinion, he’s not afraid to utter the three words that are a telltale sign of an honest, secure person: “I don’t know.”

Some of you may have read Dave’s post for the first time here and written it off as the plaintive wailing of a self-loathing liberal. If so, I think you missed his point entirely. Sure, Dave boasts of a perfect Democratic voting record. But the political references in Dave’s post are somewhat beside the point. He makes the point that it’s way past time for those of us who have fully enjoyed the privileges of growing up as white Americans to wake up and take real action to advance the goal of racial equality. It’s certainly not enough to self-evaluate, conclude “I’m not a racist so I’m not the problem” – and go on with our lives. Personally, I suppose I’ve done all the normal, easy things to check the “not a racist” box. But I could have done, and could do, so much more.

Obviously, institutional racism is not individually Dave’s fault – or your fault, or mine. But Dave started with that preposterous punch line in all caps because he wanted you to read the rest of what he wrote (kind of like starting a sports blog post with the proposition that Scottie Pippen, Dennis Rodman, Duncan Keith, and Marian Hossa were “role players,” right Dave?).

I have not talked to him about it, but I suspect the motivation for Dave’s first Facebook post was pure, helpless frustration. He is, essentially, throwing up his hands and saying, “I give up. Tax me. Treat me unfairly if you want. I’ve done nothing meaningful to make life better for people of color during my lifetime, so take your pound of flesh from me now.” For Dave, writing and posting was probably as much therapy as anything else. He’s not running for office. He’s not campaigning to add Facebook friends. I’d guess he probably cares very little if many even took the time to read his post. He had a bunch of thoughts and needed to get them out and onto a screen. I get it.

For my part, I have taken a break from blogging since I viewed the video of George Floyd’s murder. That incident and subsequent civil unrest sapped me of any urge to write about sports, for sure. Lots and lots of thoughts have been bouncing around my brain at warp speed over the last two weeks, but I was silenced by the paralysis caused by too many thoughts. Having consumed a torrent of articles and video depicting the events of the last two weeks, one of the thoughts that silenced me was “what do I – a middle-aged white man, possibly have to add to this conversation?” I’m not sure I have anything to add, frankly. I am less qualified than most to speak on the subject of racial equality, and obviously less qualified than any person of color.

But eventually I got the nerve to write this post because, at bottom, I am an optimist. I think a huge part of the path forward from 2020 is to listen and to understand, and then to speak up and act, when the opportunity presents itself. I can read. I can listen. And I can speak up when it’s appropriate. And, I am here to respond to Dave and talk him off the edge. I want to stop Dave before he sells his possessions and donates the proceeds to the Sanders 2024 campaign (slogan, “The Third Time’s The Charm, Dammit!”). So hear me out, Dave; there are several reasons for optimism.

This just feels different. I’m not the first to say this, but the breadth and intensity of the recent protests are unlike anything I can remember in my lifetime (excluding 1968, perhaps, because I was only three years old and have no lasting memory from that time aside from a dog named Pirate). Sure, we expected to hear from all of the usual pols and public figures protesting Floyd’s murder, calling for reform, and urging unity and healing and all that. But Patrick Kane? And NASCAR’s Jimmie Johnson? The list of people from the world of sports who have used their social media platforms to speak up – largely, I think, from the heart – has gone much deeper than I can ever remember. When you step up and speak up and talk, you sign up to “walk the talk,” as they say. So let’s do that, ladies and gentlemen of the world of sports.

Another reason I think this feels different? The ubiquitous smartphone. I suppose we owe a debt to Steve Jobs, right? Where would we be without having a high-quality video recording device at our fingertips constantly? There is no question that the shocking smartphone video of George Floyd being murdered at the knee of a police officer changed the world, particularly coming so soon after the release of the shocking smartphone video of Ahmaud Arbery’s murder. These two events were, together, a deafening thunder clap in the middle of a quiet night of sleep. Without the smartphone, Arbery’s killers likely never get prosecuted, and the police officer who knelt on Floyd’s neck for more than FIVE … HUNDRED … SECONDS … likely would be weaseling his way through yet another sticky internal police investigation of his conduct, and not facing a murder rap.

Yes, the Floyd murder was the spark. The protests and looting and tear gas and helicopters were the fire. But not all sparks cause fires. You need the right conditions for the spark to cause a fire, and the right conditions to sustain a fire once sparked. For a whole lot of reasons, America in 2020 is a tinder box. The fire will die down, for sure. But my hope is that the embers endure, and that the spotlight on racial inequality does not dim when the news cycle ends, as it inevitably will. The media loves to cover sparks and fires. But the coverage of Floyd’s murder and the protests will only take us so far. The media should shine light not just on the tragic effects of racial injustice, but also on the conditions that cause the injustice — every day.

Safe spaces are becoming less safe – in a good way. Last week, I observed a friend step out of character and rebuke other friends for banter that struck him as inappropriate. This caused a very brief period of tension that was quickly ironed out privately. Normalcy returned and the banter continued. What happened, in a nutshell, was that someone in a safe space (sophomoric chatter among good friends) had called someone else out for a comment made within the confines of that safe space. By doing that, he was basically saying this: maybe that’s a borderline comment we would have chuckled about in the past, but let’s not go near that border any more.

This was a baby step. It won’t be covered on CNN. But I suspect this is a scenario that will play out over and over and over among friends in the coming weeks and months and, hopefully, forever. Friends should call out friends on occasion. That said, I am not naive enough to suggest that calling people out will be the rule. Most of us tend toward the avoidance of conflict. More likely, I think, jokes or insensitive comments that have a racial component will be met with awkward silence. Or a subtle, disapproving glance. Silence can be a powerful tool for change. Silence is death for a wannabe comedian. Removing the crumbs of racism – the “harmless” banter in safe spaces that leads to racially insensitive comments – is a step in the right direction. A tiny, tiny step. But a step.

Our kids are better than us. I attended a local community Black Lives Matter protest this afternoon. It was organized by a recent high school graduate. As I recall, all but one of the several speakers was under 25. And people listened intently to their stories. The crowd was full of little kids toting homemade signs. My favorite adorned the side of a Radio Flyer wagon carrying two pre-school age kids, I think it said: “Too Woke, No Nap.” Young people seem to be fiercely aligned in opposition to racism. God bless them, but the generation of Americans who didn’t think twice about using racial slurs or perpetuating stereotypes is dwindling in number. In my own immediate family, the three people who have the keenest sense of detecting words and actions that might be hurtful or demonstrate subtle racism are the three youngest people. I wish I was educated enough to be able to cite empirical evidence that attitudes about race have shifted – in a positive way – among young adults over, say, the last 50 years. I cannot cite any research on the point, so I will stand on my anecdotal observations: young adults seem better attuned to the subtleties of racism than I was at a similar age, or am today.

There is a lot we can do, short of throwing up our hands.  Like Dave, I occasionally feel the guilt of someone who recognizes a problem, arguably has the means to help solve it, but does less than he or she could because … well … the problem is so big that nothing any person could do could have a meaningful impact. But like a colony of ants devouring an apple, there is power in numbers and power in constant, relentless, collective effort by individuals.

I ran across an article titled 75 Things White People Can Do For Racial Justice. As its author says, “achieving racial justice is a marathon, not a sprint.” I may never tackle all 75 items on that list. But I can absolutely tackle some. I can read. I can write. I can listen. I can vote. Those four tools cover a lot of ground. I encourage you to check out the list – I’ve bookmarked it for myself and hope to make it a regular stop for inspiration.

Dave wrote, “bring on the massive solutions.” That makes sense. Racism is a massive problem, and massive problems sometimes call for radical, massive solutions. But I guess my pragmatism and optimism keep me from straying too close to the edge of the cliff Dave stood on when he wrote his first Facebook post. I want to believe the privileged among us can meaningfully chip away at injustice. I can hear Dave already, “Of course you’re pragmatic and optimistic! Things have always worked out for you pretty well. And it’s easy for you to be optimistic because you like the status quo – you like your life just fine, why would you truly want radical change?“

As usual, Dave’s right. But I guess I’m going to summon Lloyd Christmas, Jim Carrey’s character in Dumb and Dumber. When Lloyd asks the way-out-of-his-league Mary Swanson the question: “What do you think the chances are of a guy like you and a girl like me ending up together?” Mary answers, “Not good.” Lloyd presses: “You mean, not good like one out of a hundred?” Mary responds: “I’d say more like one in a million.” After a long pause as he processes her answer, a gleeful smile comes across Lloyd’s face:  “So you’re telling me there’s a chance! YEAH!”

Maybe I’m dumb – or dumber than Dave, at least. Maybe I am being a little bit Lloyd Christmas here, but I see signs of coalescence around the cause of racial equality that I have never seen before in my lifetime, and it gives me hope.

So yeah, Dave – I guess I’m telling you there’s a chance. Don’t quit yet.

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