I think it's a reasonable generalization that people spend a lot of time trying to figure out their identity and purpose. Identity can come from a great many things, including your race, gender or ethnicity, work, relationships, hobbies, art... it's probably a long list. Intertwined with identity is purpose, and that's something that can vary in scope from remarkable to everyday typical. Together these may offer a reason to get up in the morning.
Identity can have a lot to do with pride, which is one of trickier human emotions. There are often a lot of reasons that we should be proud of who we are, but it's usually an accepted social contract that one's pride should not come at the expense of others, or be used to make others feel like they're less valuable. Perhaps an unintentional side effect of pride is that others who do not share in your pride may feel excluded. I'm not a psychologist, but my assumption is that not being comfortable in your own identity may contribute to the feeling of exclusion. Not being a part of things doesn't feel good.
On the topic of feeling excluded, I feel like I have more expertise than I'd like. I genuinely feel like I've been a fish out of water most of my life. It's not that I haven't felt safe or secure in any specific place, I just don't feel like I've been a part of any real community. My social circles have always been small, I think maybe four years of my professional career total had me feeling like a part of something, and I'm not really a part of any group. I'd be lying if I said that this never made me sad, but for the most part I understand better than ever what my capacity is for inclusion in any particular group, and I'm good with it. No one is really intentionally excluding me these days.
Being a white, heterosexual male raised Christian in a mostly middle-class family does not really put me in any deep identity category. Sometimes I envy the communities of some of my friends, though some of those communities are necessary because they're marginalized by, well, people like me. Certainly I don't seek to marginalize anyone. My coach and cheerleader tendencies are an important part of my identity, especially in a professional sense. I'm an ally to marginalized groups not because I want to be some kind of white savior, it's just morally the right thing to do. I remember reading in grade school a passage from Martin Luther King Jr.'s "Letter from a Birmingham Jail," and it has had a lasting impression on me.
I must make two honest confessions to you, my Christian and Jewish brothers. First, I must confess that over the past few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen's Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to "order" than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: "I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action"; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man's freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a "more convenient season." Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection.
On the surface, it may seem like he's naming scapegoats here, but when you are part of a marginalized group, it's not by accident, someone is doing it. King's assertion is that the folks on the fence are the ones who can really make change possible. Their apathy only preserves the status quo, or worse, allows us to slip backward.
I don't know if people self-identify as "white moderates" these days. But there are an increasing number of Americans who appears to believe that their identity is at risk of being marginalized. Some portion of white folks are in that pool, and often it includes men of varying races. I think there are several things fueling this. The first is that we seemed to be having a reckoning of civil rights in 2020 during the pandemic. Racially motivated violence, some of it perpetrated by law enforcement, on the heels of the #metoo movement, made it loud and clear that we could not continue to allow inequality to reign. Art forms, especially Hollywood, started to recognize the value of representation in front of and behind the camera. (Mind you, this inclusion just makes more business sense.) Algorithms started to reinforce the idea that all of this desire for equality and representation would come at the expense of white people and men. Whatever identity is carried in being white and/or male was said to be threatened.
Now, it's reasonable to observe that backing anyone into a corner will activate a defensive response. And if there are people who keep telling you that you're being backed into a corner, eventually you start to believe it. It's probably obvious where I'm going with this. The election made it pretty clear that a lot of people felt backed into a corner.
The problem is that it just ain't true, but how do you convince them of that? I'm demographically part of that group, and I can assure you, whatever identity I may have rooted in being a white hetero dude is not at risk. I still have all of the advantages. But being equal with women and people of color does not reduce my standing in the world. The great irony is that there's a backlash against equity and inclusion efforts, because of this belief in a meritocracy. But those equity and inclusion efforts are specifically intended to get us to a meritocracy and ensure that it's real, not reverse the inequity.
I don't know how you fix it. So much of it is rooted in fear and mistrust of people who are different, and when you try to label it for what it is, racism, misogyny, etc., people understandably get defensive. They're backed in a corner. But this is still hate, and it only serves to further marginalize people. People are actually hurt by this. I believe that the morally correct thing to do is to put my own identity aside, understand that it is not at risk, and strive to make others my equal. If you think you're backed into a corner, I invite you to talk to people who are worried about not surviving a traffic stop, or harassed at work for being a woman, or viewed with disgust for who they love. I can empathize with anyone for feeling marginalized, but only if they can engage in the critical thinking to understand whether or not their identity and wellbeing is actually at risk. Unfortunately, that critical thinking has largely given way to beliefs that are not rooted in a shared reality.
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