Talking About Race

Sam Osherson

When race relations are in the headlines, it’s usually because of antagonism and incivility. First, a white Supreme Court Chief Justice stumbled in January over the first Inaugural Oath administered to a black President, then this summer a white policeman arrested a black Professor in his own house, after which a white Congressman heckled a black President addressing Congress this fall. Whether or not these were racist acts, the images remain, and they raise the ante for all of us when we try to bridge the racial divide in our personal lives. The one very public example we have – this summer’s Beer Summit—offered us a confusing, mixed message: a conversation without words. The President and Professor Gates, Sgt Crowley and Vice-President Biden—two black men and two white men—clustered around a table having a relaxed conversation about race. At least we think it was a conversation. The pictures were taken from thirty feet away and no one could hear what was said. A silent conversation. Could anything be more symbolic of contemporary racial dynamics?

Many of us would like to talk across racial differences, but it’s a slippery slope. We worry about making slips, revealing our ignorance, being called a racist, and maybe even experiencing our own uncertainties about ourselves—what do we feel in our most private moments about people who appear very different from us?

 

The reality is that conversations across race can be filled with moments of learning and discovery and good-feeling. Being interested and showing a desire to talk often leads to a conversation and maybe a valued relationship. When my colleagues and I invite teachers at training workshops to talk with each other about their racial and ethnic autobiographies in pairs or small groups, they are first hesitant, then eager, then grateful for the opportunity. It's energizing to make connections across different life experiences, and it can be amazing to learn what your colleague at work or your neighbor at home has lived through. First, though, everyone needs to be reassured about the possibility of making that slip, of saying something that will come back to haunt them

 

Let’s say that you do make that gaffe, maybe mixing up the names of the two African-American men in your office. Or, what if you—an African-American—make a condescending remark about whites to a white colleague? What if as you—a white person—are talking to an African-American colleague, a negative cultural stereotype about blacks slips out, for example, “you’re really much more hard-working than I thought you’d be.”

 

In reality, awkward moments happen. It’s what happens after the awkwardness that’s important. We may be tempted to ignore it. We may want to explain it away, as in “You guys are both from Cleveland, so I tend to mix your names up.”

There is another way, based on the work of Maine parent-educator Pam Leo, who writes about the process of repairing injuries in relationships. First, you acknowledge a gaffe happened. “Wait, I just said something thoughtless.” Or: “I can’t believe I mixed your name up with Ted’s. I know you are Adrian.” Then you repair the gaffe:“ I’m sorry. My apologies.” After that, you listen, non-defensively, inviting the offended person to respond, eg, “How are we doing here?” And, finally, you start over: “Ok, Adrian, where shall we go for lunch?” Leo calls this sequence Rewind—Repair—Replay. When you’ve made a mistake, the key is to listen to what’s just happened, and acknowledge it. Try not to defend yourself or explain yourself.

 

We all know that race is a loaded topic for conversation these days. We also know that many of us want to be able to connect, despite our differences. That’s the wonder, and hopefulness, of the Beer Summit and all conversations intent on repair. Now we just have to find the words.