I am a 51-year-old white male from rural Arizona, and I’m embarrassed to say I really have no clue who I am. I also have a feeling there are millions of other white folks in America just like me.
I firmly believe White America (whatever that means) has been struggling with an identity crisis since the first European arrived here. I also believe that, until this identity crisis is solved, racism unfortunately will continue to flourish.
To give you a full understanding of how ignorant I am, let me tell you what I do know about me. From what my now-deceased parents described, I am Swedish on my mother’s side and German on my father’s side.
Here is what I know about my Swedish culture. Nothing really. I know that Sweden is usually pretty good in the Winter Olympics, and I’m guessing it’s pretty cold there. Being completely honest, I’m not 100 percent certain I could look at a map and distinguish Sweden from Norway or Finland without labels. I don’t know one word of the Swedish language.
Here is what I know about my German culture. Nothing really. I know that Germany always has a great soccer team. I know America fought against Germany in two world wars. I know there’s a lot of beer drinking during “Oktoberfest.” I can’t speak one word of German.
Trust me, I realize how stupid I sound. You might be surprised to learn that I’m a school principal with a master’s degree in educational leadership. I also spent 20-years as a newspaper reporter and editor, so I should have some knowledge of something.
With an ego as big as mine, it is not easy to share what few things I know about my own heritage. However, I suspect I am not alone. I suspect many of us white folks are completely disconnected from our actual roots.
Malcolm X once said, “A race of people is like an individual man; until is uses its own talent, takes pride in its own history, expresses its own culture, affirms its own selfhood, it can never fulfill itself.”
I wasn’t born yet, but I suspect these words during a 1964 unity rally in New York City were intended to instill pride in the people who followed him. I can’t help but imagine Malcolm saying those words to me today.
Because myself and the rest of White America (whatever that means) has not truly “affirmed its own selfhood” in a positive manner, I believe we have been walking around unfulfilled. To make matters worse, we have been hopelessly grasping on to a false identity at the enormous expense of other human beings. Some White folks will hold on to this false identity “by any means necessary” no matter how many lives are destroyed.
So what am I?
Well, some people call me White. Maybe if I look at a map, I will find a place called “Whiteland.” After all, they do have a Greenland, right?
No Whiteland. Interesting.
Last time I checked, white is a color. Let’s look up the word to see if there are any clues. One of Webster’s definitions of white is “the former stereotypical association of good character with northern European descent; marked by upright fairness.”
Give me a break. Try to sell that to any person of color (whatever that means) and watch what kind of look you get.
What’s also interesting is I’m not really white if you look at me. The Arizona sunshine has given me a nice, bronze tan.
Some people call me “European-American.” Great, so let’s just split me up into 44 different countries with very distinct cultures and languages – the same countries that have been battling each other for centuries.
No wonder I’m so confused.
Some people call me “Caucasian.” Now this has hope because I hear –asian in the word. Maybe if I look again on the map, I will find a place. Nope.
Wait. Here is an article about the word “Caucasian” by Yolanda Moses, a professor of anthropology at University of California-Riverside. Anthropology? It sounds promising until you read her first sentence.
“The word ‘Caucasian’ is used in the U.S. to describe white people, but it doesn’t indicate anything real.”
Oh, great. That’s nice to know considering I have probably checked the “Caucasian” box a thousand times.
So what is real? Who am I? I know. I will just call myself “American.” Yeah, just … American. The good old red, white and blue. I’ll put an American flag (maybe a confederate one) out in front of my house, drink some domestic beer and listen to country music. Now that’s American gosh darn it.
“And I’m proud to be an American, where at least I know I’m free.”
Strange. I don’t hear any protesters singing that one.
All you other folks (country accent) just keep your hyphenated identities … African-American, Mexican-American, Chinese-American, etc. etc. Me? I’m just American. A real, red-blooded American.
Wait a minute. You mean to tell me there were people who lived here thousands of years before me? Shouldn’t they be called American?
Now I’m really confused.
You know, it’s no wonder you hear terms like “white privilege.” That’s how other people see us. Even though some of us don’t necessarily want to come across as arrogant, our ignorance puts us there. Too many of us, especially older folks, actually believe this false identity we carry around is something real. It is not.
I am happy to see so many young “white” people taking a stand against racism. We can make even more progress by starting to learn who we really are and having a true sense of fulfillment as Malcolm suggested.
Maybe then we will see ourselves as what we really are – no better than anybody else. Once we do that, we can get rid of these stupid race classifications and just think of ourselves as fellow human beings.
Maybe then the Great American Melting Pot will become something more than a myth.
“Ha en bra dag.”
That’s “Have a nice day” in Swedish.
Brian Wedemeyer
Parker
