Beyond the Pale

It’s easy to put myself beyond the pale. Recently, I found myself othered for talking to peacemakers about the need to bring the other to the table. The implication is that I am creating the otherness by talking about it. I don’t see it that way: if we want to make peace, we have to begin by acknowledging that we see things differently. Focusing exclusively on “our common humanity” denies the difference.

The others – whoever they are, including me – are often offended by the denial of our otherness. Our otherness is a painful part of our experience; often it’s a defining part. All my life, there have been white people who proudly announced that they didn’t see color. During our lunch break in the late-60’s, on a warm winter day, a colleague and I, eating our lunches outdoors, sitting on a bench, were watching kids playing basketball in a school yard. Some were pretty good. My friend thought one of the kids could play Division I, the kid in the blue-patterned shirt. “Which blue patterned shirt?” I wasn’t sure who he was referring to. When I finally got it, he turned out to be the only black kid on the court. My friend couldn’t just say, “the black kid.” That would have been what? Racist?

Colorblindness was still alive and well 25 years later. In the aftermath of the George Floyd murder, some of our white teachers were proudly proclaiming that they didn’t see race. My reaction was to challenge their blindness: how could anyone who grew up in America be blind to race? Some teachers of color surprised me. “That’s white skin privilege.” Only white people have the luxury to be oblivious to race. Black people live with race consciousness every moment.

If we are going to make peace, we’re going to have to acknowledge the Otherness that divides us. We’re going to have to say something. We’re going to have to say it out loud. Is there a proven technique for calling out, one which works every time? I’ll tell you my secret: it ain’t about technique.