When I began teaching classes of primarily black students in Oakland, Calif., many of my white friends started to see me as something of an expert on African-American culture. While I understand that I could not possibly be an expert, I have been privy to some interesting conversations. I represent a comfort level that can lead to more cross-cultural discussions.
The questions I get more than any other have a pattern, and boil down to "I saw a black person do X. Why do black people do that?" For example: "I saw a black teenager curse out a store owner. Why are black teenagers so rude?" The formula is consistent. And surprisingly, the questions come from well-educated, thoughtful people who do not usually make snap judgments.
It is easy to see a person as a representative of another group, and generalize from his or her actions. Conclusions are easy to jump to and somewhat understandable. But they are dangerous.
For a long time, I stumbled through these conversations. My attempts turned into a clumsy defense of the group being discussed. I felt like I was making excuses and not helping my friends come to any real understanding.
One day, however, something clicked. I remembered that when I began teaching, I saw a class of dark-skinned children who all seemed to look and act alike. After a few months, I was amazed that I could ever have thought that these kids were so similar. "Jimmy" was tall and gangly and tried to be cheerful, even though he had serious academic problems and his mother had cancer. "Fred" had a scar on his forehead, was short and stocky, and had the quickest temper I've ever seen on a child. "Christine" looked black but was also Vietnamese and was being raised primarily within the Vietnamese culture. Even the identical twins were so different that after I had known them for a month, I couldn't believe anyone could get them confused.
When a friend asked me about a young black man's poor behavior, I finally said what I had wanted to say but had never been able to put into words. "If the person you saw had been white, would you be wondering why all white people acted like that, or would you be asking what motivated that individual's behavior? What would your life—or mine—be like if our every action and word was used to reinforce someone's view of what white people were like? I can't imagine the pressure—and resentment—I would feel."
So here's where the challenge comes. I encourage you to seek out contexts where you can challenge yourself to think more broadly about the relationship between race and individual. As teachers, we have a chance to influence children before this type of thinking becomes too ingrained. Maybe we can help the next generation learn to see people first as individuals, not as faceless members of a particular ethnic group.
Harris is a teacher, tutor and volunteer in California.
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