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Jan. 15th, 2019 01:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ysobelIt is kind of boggling just how bad white people -- and I am including myself in that! -- are af discussing racism.
There has been a ... thing ... in the online community, beginning with a kerfluffle where a (white) blogger posting an enthusiastic but badly phrased thing about traveling to India, and leading to a very important discussion about racism, both in general and in the knitting world both online and off. The discussion itself is kind of complicated and multi-platform (bouncing between blogs and Instagram and Ravelry and Twitter and who knows what else) and it is bigger than the blog post about India but the blog post, and peoples' reactions to it, are depressingly enlightening. Because from white peoples there has been a lot of "oh, she didn't mean it in a racist way" or whitesplaining hoe it wasn't actually racist (because intent is totally magic) or "some people get upset about anything these days" or "my friend from India didn't think it was a problem" (because people from India are a monolith?) or whatnot. And in the larger discussion, white people going "I can't even open my mouth without getting jumped on and told I'm evil" and ... well. Stuff.
And I'm not immune. I had some of the same initial thoughts. Wanting to find ways to explain the blog post in a non racist way. Thinking, before I was aware of the depth of the conversation (I had seen only a piece here and here without the larger context) that it was an unnecessary kerfluffle rather than something of deep importance, and not bothering to look deeper. I didn't say any of it, but I thought it, because ... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Whyyyyy.
(Rhetorical question. Yes I am familiar with the concept of white fragility and stuff. Don't really want to get into that here, which I know is a reflection of privilege -- I can distance myself from racism discussions in ways that POC, especially BIPOC, can't -- but eh.)
And some of the stories of BIPOC and knitting racism have boggled me equally much. People being harassed and/or ignored in yarn stores, or asked if they're sure they can afford that yarn; featured designers being largely white, and models ditto; BIPOC people feeling unwelcome in a community that purports to be inclusive. It makes my heart sore that the yarn community is as racist as it is, and also that I was so deeply unaware of it because it didn't affect me; and at the same time I know that how I feel about this is less important than the perspectives of those being actually involved.
I wish I could make a promise that I will be as anti-racist as I can, except that I know that I will fail. I wish I could make a promise that I would react with grace and honest apology if called out for racism that I speak or perpetuate, except i know I'm more likely to make an ass of myself, because white people suck st this. I wish my wishes and unspoken promises actually changed anything, but ... I'm not really that important.
There has been a ... thing ... in the online community, beginning with a kerfluffle where a (white) blogger posting an enthusiastic but badly phrased thing about traveling to India, and leading to a very important discussion about racism, both in general and in the knitting world both online and off. The discussion itself is kind of complicated and multi-platform (bouncing between blogs and Instagram and Ravelry and Twitter and who knows what else) and it is bigger than the blog post about India but the blog post, and peoples' reactions to it, are depressingly enlightening. Because from white peoples there has been a lot of "oh, she didn't mean it in a racist way" or whitesplaining hoe it wasn't actually racist (because intent is totally magic) or "some people get upset about anything these days" or "my friend from India didn't think it was a problem" (because people from India are a monolith?) or whatnot. And in the larger discussion, white people going "I can't even open my mouth without getting jumped on and told I'm evil" and ... well. Stuff.
And I'm not immune. I had some of the same initial thoughts. Wanting to find ways to explain the blog post in a non racist way. Thinking, before I was aware of the depth of the conversation (I had seen only a piece here and here without the larger context) that it was an unnecessary kerfluffle rather than something of deep importance, and not bothering to look deeper. I didn't say any of it, but I thought it, because ... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Whyyyyy.
(Rhetorical question. Yes I am familiar with the concept of white fragility and stuff. Don't really want to get into that here, which I know is a reflection of privilege -- I can distance myself from racism discussions in ways that POC, especially BIPOC, can't -- but eh.)
And some of the stories of BIPOC and knitting racism have boggled me equally much. People being harassed and/or ignored in yarn stores, or asked if they're sure they can afford that yarn; featured designers being largely white, and models ditto; BIPOC people feeling unwelcome in a community that purports to be inclusive. It makes my heart sore that the yarn community is as racist as it is, and also that I was so deeply unaware of it because it didn't affect me; and at the same time I know that how I feel about this is less important than the perspectives of those being actually involved.
I wish I could make a promise that I will be as anti-racist as I can, except that I know that I will fail. I wish I could make a promise that I would react with grace and honest apology if called out for racism that I speak or perpetuate, except i know I'm more likely to make an ass of myself, because white people suck st this. I wish my wishes and unspoken promises actually changed anything, but ... I'm not really that important.