Yesterday I played an interesting game as part of an anti-racism discussion group. The game was very simple. All the participants had to line up against the wall. Then, a series of questions was asked. For each question, if the answer was yes, you were instructed to either move forward or backward a certain number of steps, depending on the question. If the answer was no, you stayed in place.
So we began, a seemingly homogeneous group of people. The first question was, "If you are white, consider yourself to be white, and are accepted as white, take two steps forward." Everyone did. Other questions followed. "If your parents bought you a car when you were in high school, take one step forward." "If your parents bought a house before you entered high school, take one step forward." "If your parents paid for your college education, take three steps forward." "If you have a learning disability, take one step back." "If you have a visible or invisible disability, take three steps back." "If you are male, forward." "If your family was on food stamps, backwards." And so forth until we were all staggered across the room.
What was interesting is that none of the questions (there were around 20 if I recall correctly) had anything to do with a person's choices or attitudes, except for two. If you felt you had high self-esteem, you were instructed to take three steps forward and if you felt your parents loved you, to take two steps forward. Everything else was objective. Your parents either paid for your education, or they did not. It did not matter in the context of the game whether they could have paid and chose not to pay, or whether they truly could not have paid, back you went. On the other hand, "if you had to work during high school or college," back you went as well. So much for "pulling oneself up by the bootstraps."
At the end of the game one person was so far ahead of the pack they looked like Secretariat winning the 1973 Belmont. Most were in the middle. I was one of the stragglers in the rear. This did not surprise me at all, it only confirmed what I have long felt in the deepest part of my soul. That for every step or two forwards, there was one or more backwards. While the others were halfway across the room, I and a couple of others had barely left the wall. Again, this was not a matter of opinion. This was not a matter of perception (and mine, I have been repeatedly told, is faulty). This was privilege displayed in graphic form, like pieces on a chessboard. You either moved to this square or that square or you stayed in place.
A while back I participated in a 5K walk in which I came in dead last. Not just back of the pack last, but way last. Think of it as Secretariat's Belmont in reverse--33 lengths behind the next to last. There was no one else in sight. "Well, at least you made it," the organizers said, waving me on to the finish line. Yeah. I made it. Big Deal. The awards ceremony was long over and people were getting up and leaving. But I made it. Right. There was no doubt in my mind that I would complete the course, in fact I walked to the event and I walked home. And I certainly wasn't doing it because I expected to win. The only thing that surprised me about the results is that I was a good 20 minutes faster than I thought I was. That's not the point. The point is, it's the winners, the first ones in, the ones farthest across the room, that society recognizes. If your view is consistently of a bunch of rapidly retreating backs, well, it sucks to be you. You just need to try harder next time, and have a better attitude.
And yet, none of the questions dealt with choice or attitude (except the two I mentioned). They dealt with factors that were not of one's control or choosing. What skin color you had. What gender. What sexual orientation. What socioeconomic background. What kind of things that were given to you, not earned. What was not asked, and could have been, was, did you ever lose everything because of fire or storm? Were your parents ever laid off for an extended period of time? Was there prolonged illness in the family while you were growing up? Accidents? It would have been interesting to see if the answers to those questions changed any of the results. I have a feeling that no, it wouldn't. That once you are far enough ahead, like Secretariat, it's going to take quite a lot to change the outcome. The 1973 Belmont was won long before the finish line came in sight. Crossing it was a formality. Secretariat could have slowed to a walk just a few yards before the line and he still would have won. Setting a new time record for the distance was simply icing on the cake.
For many people in the room it was an eye-opening experience. They had not thought of themselves as being privileged. "Are we poor?" Scout asks Atticus in "To Kill A Mockingbird." "We are indeed," he tells her. Yet, as one cast member pointed out backstage, the "poor" Finches had a cook. "None of us have cooks," he said. "None of us have servants." So how were the Finches "poor"? The answer is, it depends on what standards one uses. If one can afford household help, then what about Walter Cunningham who could only afford to pay his legal bill in firewood and produce (which is what sparked that conversation)? Atticus is not entirely being honest with Scout when he says, "We are indeed poor." The Finches may not have had much money, but they were quite a few steps ahead of the pack. It is Atticus' failure to recognize this that is his blind spot. Nothing upsets truly poor people more than to hear those who are comparatively well-off mourn about their poverty when in fact they are surrounded by opportunities and choices those below them would love to have.
So we began, a seemingly homogeneous group of people. The first question was, "If you are white, consider yourself to be white, and are accepted as white, take two steps forward." Everyone did. Other questions followed. "If your parents bought you a car when you were in high school, take one step forward." "If your parents bought a house before you entered high school, take one step forward." "If your parents paid for your college education, take three steps forward." "If you have a learning disability, take one step back." "If you have a visible or invisible disability, take three steps back." "If you are male, forward." "If your family was on food stamps, backwards." And so forth until we were all staggered across the room.
What was interesting is that none of the questions (there were around 20 if I recall correctly) had anything to do with a person's choices or attitudes, except for two. If you felt you had high self-esteem, you were instructed to take three steps forward and if you felt your parents loved you, to take two steps forward. Everything else was objective. Your parents either paid for your education, or they did not. It did not matter in the context of the game whether they could have paid and chose not to pay, or whether they truly could not have paid, back you went. On the other hand, "if you had to work during high school or college," back you went as well. So much for "pulling oneself up by the bootstraps."
At the end of the game one person was so far ahead of the pack they looked like Secretariat winning the 1973 Belmont. Most were in the middle. I was one of the stragglers in the rear. This did not surprise me at all, it only confirmed what I have long felt in the deepest part of my soul. That for every step or two forwards, there was one or more backwards. While the others were halfway across the room, I and a couple of others had barely left the wall. Again, this was not a matter of opinion. This was not a matter of perception (and mine, I have been repeatedly told, is faulty). This was privilege displayed in graphic form, like pieces on a chessboard. You either moved to this square or that square or you stayed in place.
A while back I participated in a 5K walk in which I came in dead last. Not just back of the pack last, but way last. Think of it as Secretariat's Belmont in reverse--33 lengths behind the next to last. There was no one else in sight. "Well, at least you made it," the organizers said, waving me on to the finish line. Yeah. I made it. Big Deal. The awards ceremony was long over and people were getting up and leaving. But I made it. Right. There was no doubt in my mind that I would complete the course, in fact I walked to the event and I walked home. And I certainly wasn't doing it because I expected to win. The only thing that surprised me about the results is that I was a good 20 minutes faster than I thought I was. That's not the point. The point is, it's the winners, the first ones in, the ones farthest across the room, that society recognizes. If your view is consistently of a bunch of rapidly retreating backs, well, it sucks to be you. You just need to try harder next time, and have a better attitude.
And yet, none of the questions dealt with choice or attitude (except the two I mentioned). They dealt with factors that were not of one's control or choosing. What skin color you had. What gender. What sexual orientation. What socioeconomic background. What kind of things that were given to you, not earned. What was not asked, and could have been, was, did you ever lose everything because of fire or storm? Were your parents ever laid off for an extended period of time? Was there prolonged illness in the family while you were growing up? Accidents? It would have been interesting to see if the answers to those questions changed any of the results. I have a feeling that no, it wouldn't. That once you are far enough ahead, like Secretariat, it's going to take quite a lot to change the outcome. The 1973 Belmont was won long before the finish line came in sight. Crossing it was a formality. Secretariat could have slowed to a walk just a few yards before the line and he still would have won. Setting a new time record for the distance was simply icing on the cake.
For many people in the room it was an eye-opening experience. They had not thought of themselves as being privileged. "Are we poor?" Scout asks Atticus in "To Kill A Mockingbird." "We are indeed," he tells her. Yet, as one cast member pointed out backstage, the "poor" Finches had a cook. "None of us have cooks," he said. "None of us have servants." So how were the Finches "poor"? The answer is, it depends on what standards one uses. If one can afford household help, then what about Walter Cunningham who could only afford to pay his legal bill in firewood and produce (which is what sparked that conversation)? Atticus is not entirely being honest with Scout when he says, "We are indeed poor." The Finches may not have had much money, but they were quite a few steps ahead of the pack. It is Atticus' failure to recognize this that is his blind spot. Nothing upsets truly poor people more than to hear those who are comparatively well-off mourn about their poverty when in fact they are surrounded by opportunities and choices those below them would love to have.
