Stop Saying ‘Racism’

Honest dialogue about race and racial issues should move the conversation forward and advance its participants further down the road of understanding. Unfortunately, we’ve been doing the opposite. That’s why our columnist is proposing this radical idea: a moratorium on the use of the “R-word.”

I just can’t take it anymore. Something has to stop.

Republican Senator Lindsey Graham recently made comments about illegal immigrants having children, calling into question the validity of the 14th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution. Almost immediately, many people called his comments, and the people who support them, racist. (Do I even need to mention this happened on Fox News?)

Technology writer Farhad Manjoo recently posted a thoughtful, broadly generalized analysis of the ways in which many young black people use Twitter. Various bloggers have either called it, or more generally insinuated it to be, racist.

A chorus of African American conservatives gathered at the National Press Club, in the wake of the Shirley Sherrod fiasco and the expulsion of former Tea Party spokesman Mark Williams, largely for the purpose of advancing their belief that liberal race-baiting is just as much, if not more racist than any of the so-called racist elements in the Tea Party.

Rap mogul Diddy was asked in an interview about the rather ostentatious luxury car he had given his teenage son. Diddy was offended. According to Diddy, White luminaries in their respective fields would not be assailed with such trivialities. He said the question was racist.

Dr. Laura Schlessinger apologized for her now-infamous saying “n-word” rant during her radio show in response to an African American caller expressing consternation over racist remarks by her husband’s friends. She was chiding the caller for being hypersensitive, and ended with the following comment:

“If you’re that hypersensitive about color and don’t have a sense of humor, don’t marry out of your race.”

For many bloggers, pundits, and readers, that quote is all the evidence one needs to convict Dr. Laura of a textbook case of racist behavior.

A Year Without the R-Word

In today’s overly politicized media climate, storms of controversy continually erupt over allegations of racism, polarizing wide swaths of people in the process. It happens with big stories and small stories, with celebrities as well as regular folks. And even in stories that ostensibly seem to have nothing to do with race, it breaks out in comment threads after the fact. Somebody says that something or someone is racist, and people on both sides lose their minds and start jabbering away. The names may change, but the problem persists.

Actually, forgive my typo.

What I meant to say is that people close their minds and start jabbering.

Not that I believe that open-mindedness is the ultimate virtue to strive toward. I subscribe to the maxim of G. K. Chesterton, who once stated that an open mind is like an open mouth; useful only in its capacity to close down on something solid. His point, generally speaking, is that open minds should be constantly searching for truth.

My belief is that substantive dialogue about race and racial issues should, when done honestly and with virtue, move the conversation forward and advance its participants further down the road of understanding.

What I’ve seen too often is the exact opposite. It’s a mindless bludgeoning, day after day, perpetrated by people who wield terms like “racist” as weapons to be used only for discrediting, embarrassing or repudiating their enemies, regardless of how much truth is in the allegation. When this happens, no real dialogue or learning takes place, other than a steely resolve from both sides to dig in a little deeper and get a little nastier next time.

And like I said, I just can’t take it anymore.

Like The Winans once said, it’s time make a change. So I’m gonna summon my inner MJ, and start with the man in the mirror.
I’m gonna take a break from talking about racism.

For one whole year, I will conspicuously avoid using the word “racist” or “racism” in any written form of public discourse, except to finish this article.

Too Many Dropped Calls

This might seem like a really radical idea, but in fact a lot of intelligent black people already do this. Some of us might do it to avoid being labeled as a troublemaker. Some of us might do it because we’re tired of banging our heads against the wall. Some of us might do it because we want to prove that black people can and should talk about more than just “black issues.”

I’m doing it for a simpler reason, though.

The word “racist” is broken.

Words are supposed to represent ideas, and when the use of certain words actually impede the communication of ideas, then those words no longer function like they’re supposed to. When people argue about whether or not such-and-such was racist, there is no agreed-upon standard for what racism is or is not. The arguments just go in circles.

Some people believe that racism is strictly a matter of the heart, like jealousy or avarice. Others look at racism more in terms of structural or institutionalized inequities in society. Some people think it’s both. Some people hear or read the word “racist” and they automatically translate that to mean “not politically correct.” Others do the same and end up with “conservative.”

Is it any wonder, then, why our conversation suffers so badly?

Like a bad cell phone connection, constantly assailing racists and calling out racism leaves us with an illusion of communication. We think we’re getting our point across effectively, unaware that critical feedback is missing. Assumptions and biases block us from making relational progress across the long cultural and ideological divides where progress is needed most. It litters our discourse with misunderstandings that frustrate like so many dropped calls.

And the conversation goes nowhere.

In Other Words

When I was just out of high school, I was in a Christian discipleship program called The Master’s Commission. One of the aims of the program was to create leaders in the faith who could elucidate on matters of import. As such, the leaders at the time issued a challenge to the students, to see how many of them could carry on a conversation without using the words “dude,” “cool,” or “awesome.”

For some of us, this was a minor inconvenience. For others, it was a full-blown crisis of communication.

Some of these students were tempted to view the leaders as archaic fuddy-duddy types who abhorred casual speech, but that was not the case at all. They had no problem with those words in and of themselves. They just wanted to break the students of their habitually poor choice of words. The challenge forced the students to start using unfamiliar words, which occasionally led to some hilariously awkward exchanges.

“Du — I mean, bro, did you watch the game last night?”

“Oh yeah, when Drexler hit that three it was so … um … interesting.”

Many black folks today use the terms “racist” and “racism” with almost that same habitual reflex as my white Gen-Xer friends had with “dude” and “awesome.”

It’s not that we think everything bad or wrong is racist, but we keep it handy for any situation that fits a certain familiar scenario where our brothers and sisters get the shaft. There’s legitimate reason for this habitual usage — namely, centuries’ worth of systemic oppression and disenfranchisement against people who look like us and share our lineage. But over time, as the issues get murkier and problems have more complicated solutions, habitual cries of racism look like emotional shorthand for “something shady that I can’t quite put my finger on.”

Back in the salad days of the Internet, netizens in chat rooms and message boards used to operate on a principle known as Godwin’s Law. It says the longer any particular argument goes on, the more likely it is that someone will make a comparison to Nazi Germany. Thus, whoever reaches that point first has automatically lost the argument by default, since they obviously had nothing else worthwhile to say.

I think we ought to do the same thing with “racist” and “racism.”

Because regardless of how racist someone may actually be, the moment that word enters the discussion, you’ve lost any hope of actual dialogue with anyone who didn’t already agree with you — even if the facts are on your side.

So that’s why I’m taking this pledge. It’s not in spite of the many instances of racism I see, but precisely because of how much there is that doesn’t get talked about in any meaningful way.

No, I don’t believe that choosing not to talk about racism will make it go away. But choosing to talk about it in other terms that aren’t so emotionally charged … that’s a start.

Some may say that by doing this, even temporarily, it lets purveyors of racist acts and ideas off the hook.

I could not disagree more. Choosing to talk about these things without using the terms “racist” and “racism” can shine an even more effective light on the relative merit (or lack thereof) of these particular ideas and actions, without giving their defenders an easy way to blow off the criticism as being too P.C.

So I don’t need to call Sen. Graham a racist to combat his statements. I can simply call them insensitive, politically-calculating, cowardly, mean-spirited, a threat to the fabric of our Constitution, and lacking even a modicum of logic. (Seriously, “drop and leave”? Isn’t the whole point that they want to stay?)

I can say that Farhad Manjoo was pretty clear that not all black folks use Twitter the same way, and that even though the header image was a little silly, I’d proudly rock a baby blue fitted hat with a pound sign on it, stereotype or not. (Assuming it wasn’t a 59Fifty, those joints are expensive.)

I can say that black Tea Party apologists are fighting a lost cause if they can’t recognize rogue elements in their own movement, because everybody else can see them, even if some of them are manufactured by their opponents. Unfortunately, perception is reality.

I can say that Diddy is a rap star who popularized celebrity culture in hip-hop, and that he, of all people, should know better than to clamor for attention and then pout after getting too much. It doesn’t take a family counselor to see that no 16-year-old needs a Maybach Benz.

I can say that Dr. Laura is, like most talk-radio icons, too abrasive and combative to deal with issues like race effectively, which says less about her as a person than it does about the ineffectual nature of talk radio as a forum for serious discussion. I can say that I don’t really believe her apology, because it sounds too much like many other apologies we’ve heard after these types of racial incidents. And despite her rude and boorish response to her listener’s question, I can say that she has a point about the whole HBO-and-black-comics thing.

That’s what it’s like to talk about racial incidents without using those words. And that wasn’t so hard, was it?

That’s why I’m willing to give it a try.

Now who’s with me?

If you plan to join Jelani in refraining from use of the “R-word,” drop us a comment below and share your reasons. Even if you don’t plan to abandon the word, we’d still like to hear from you.

My Sunday with Mase

I was one of those people who couldn’t quite believe that rapper Mason Betha (a.k.a. Murda Ma$e) might be a serious Christian minister. Then I visited his church.

Yes, I spent a Sunday with Mase. But it wasn’t listening to his greatest hits album in the comforts of my home or attending a concert where he performed any of said greatest hits. No, I went to church with Mase — his church, El Elyon International in Atlanta, Georgia, to be exact. Now I am going to ask you to un-furrow your brow. Yes, I know it is furrowed because there is no one who I have told about going to El Elyon that didn’t have a furrowed brow. The reactions varied from, “Really?” to “So you didn’t get any God today?” To tell the truth, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I approached the opportunity to attend El Elyon with some hesitancy.

I was a fan of Mase’s music back in the days when he and Diddy were wearing matching shiny suits and singing about being bad boys. I remember when I heard about him leaving the rap game to go into ministry. I remember when he left ministry to go back into the rap game as Murda Ma$e. And I remember when he left the rap game again to go back to ministry. It is that schizophrenia that leads most people to stay away from his ministry and his music. But, the more I thought about it I realized that Mase is no different from any of us who keep on backsliding into the world — save for the fact that our backslides are not caught on camera for the world to see.

Bad Boy Days: Mase with Diddy (then Puff Daddy) in the 1997 video for Biggie Smalls' posthumously released song "Mo Money, Mo Problems."

So I figured I’d give Mase … I mean, Pastor Mason Betha of El Elyon … a chance.

I went into my El Elyon experience with many different expectations. I expected the church to be huge, like a standard Atlanta megachurch, which looks more like a college campus than it does a sanctuary. El Elyon is no megachurch. It’s located on a non-descript street in the midst of warehouses. In fact, it is in a warehouse. It is a humble space. I expected that the majority of the cars parked in front of the church were going to be of the “Beamer, Benz or Bentley” variety. There were barely any Beamers, Benzes or Bentleys in front of El Elyon. It was more like a “Nissan, Honda, Chevy” affair. With each opening door of these domestic cars came young African American adults, some middle-aged families, and the occasional white man or woman.

As I was getting over some of my misconceptions about the external trappings of the church, I walked inside to be met by not one but several greeters who sensed my newness but didn’t treat me like I was new. I explained to them I’d be meeting some friends who hadn’t arrived yet, and they showed me to a seat in the lobby. Many who walked passed me as I sat there waiting treated me like an old friend. One of the members of the ministerial staff even greeted me in earnest, asking for my name, expressing his gratitude that I could join them for worship, and directing me to the sanctuary. In all honesty that last encounter was a little jarring because I had become use to seeing ministers decked out in full apparel who would only speak to the ones they knew and offer a weak smile and lukewarm greeting to those they didn’t. For a church I had only been in for about 15 minutes, I felt as if I’d been there 15 years.

I missed the praise-and-worship portion of the service waiting for my friends, but I could hear the spirited music — a lot of Israel Houghton and other urban praise tunes — from my spot in the lobby. I finally entered the service just as Pastor Mason Betha stepped onstage to deliver his sermon. It was a sparsely decorated sanctuary with a pulpit at the center of an elevated stage. The space held about 300 people and it was easily filled to capacity. The seats weren’t pews but high-backed chairs like you’d find in a banquet hall. When the ushers accompanied us to our seats, they encouraged us to squeeze in as close together as possible to make room for other late-arriving churchgoers.

Pastor Betha’s sermon was titled “Stay at His Feet.” He began by petitioning his members to start a purity fast so that they can abstain from anything that isn’t edifying. He used the analogy of dirt and water in a jar to describe why this purity fast is so desperately needed, remarking that as Christians we read the Bible or hear a sermon then we get into our cars and turn on secular music, watch movies about vampires, or participate in other sordid activities. In Pastor Betha’s view, the secular music, the vampires, and other things are the dirt that clouds up the water that is supposed to purify our lives. He surmises that cutting those things out will help us to become more accessible to God and powerful for the kingdom. All of this before his actual sermon went forth and my preconceived notions were already being blown out of the water.

So, let’s talk about my expectations of Pastor Mason Betha. What can I say? Yes, I wondered what a former “Bad Boy for Life” could say behind a sacred podium. I wondered if he would preach with the same slow drawl that made him famous as a rapper. I wondered what, if anything, he said was going to touch me. I had the words of many in my mind — the people who were shocked that I would go to his church; the people, who similar to Nathaniel asking if anything good could come out of Nazareth, asked if anything good could come out of a seemingly confused rapper whose relapse into the secular world wasn’t too long ago. Well, the answer to the question is plenty good can come out of him once we stop defining him by who he was and look at who God is shaping him to be.

For 90 minutes I listened to Pastor Mason Betha teach the word of God in what I believe was a pretty sound manner. He didn’t tell many stories — though he cracked a few jokes — he just let the Word of God speak. Though it was only the 10:00 service and there was yet one more for him to preach at noon, he was not constrained by time. He preached long and hard, making sure that we had as many scriptures as he could possibly give us so that we would be motivated to continue the study on our own.

By the end of that sermon — actually I’d prefer to call it a study — I had seven pages of notes and a new respect for Mason Betha. All because I took the time to step past what I thought I knew.

As a young seminarian, I’ve been told that most of my ministry will be in my interruptions. Interestingly enough, my interrupting my preconceived notions of a man and his ministry was when I was ministered to, and I suspect that the interruption of the rapper Mase led to the ministry of Pastor Mason Betha. And that’s an interruption I’m praying many will benefit from.

Over the years, there have been rumors about Pastor Betha and whether he’s really walking with God — that he never fully broke off from the rap business. Musically speaking, with the exception of a few guest spots here and there, he’s been silent since his 2004 album due to contractual issues with Diddy’s Bad Boy label. But the latest buzz suggests another full-fledged comeback may be imminent. We’ll have to wait and see if it’s true.
If Mase does return to rap music, I hope he remembers his analogy of dirt and water in a jar.