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Joe R. Feagin, Kevin E. Early
and Karyn
D. McKinney
excerpted from: Joe R. Feagin, Kevin E. Early and
Karyn D. McKinney, The Many Costs of Discrimination: the Case of
Middle-class African Americans , 34 Indiana Law Review 1313-1360,
1323-1328 (2001)(186 Footnotes)
In the last decade much argument has been directed at what has been
termed "black paranoia"about racism. For example, Dinesh
D'Souza argues that middle class African Americans move too quickly to
see racism and that black rage is a "dysfunctional aspect of black
culture, a feature mainly of middle- class African American life"
and that this rage represents "the frustration of pursuing unearned
privileges" of affirmative action. In effect, this perspective
suggests that African Americans have mainly themselves to blame for
mental health problems associated with their racial histories.
In contrast, other researchers have found that African American
"paranoia" is actually a healthy response to recurring
experiences with racial discrimination. Some researchers call this
response "cultural mistrust," which is a suspicion of whites
that is adopted by African Americans for survival. Others have rejected
the use of terms such as "mistrust" or "paranoia,"
which have implications of pathology, and instead use the term
"racism reaction" to describe the protective orientation
individual African Americans often assume in interactions with whites.
Research suggests that health-care providers should be familiar with
this black response in order to avoid misdiagnoses of pathological
paranoia. This precaution is particularly important given the fact that,
although African Americans are less likely than whites to seek mental
health care, those that do seek such care are more apt to be diagnosed
with more serious mental illnesses.
In a now classical study, psychiatrists Grier and Cobbs examined the
extent to which individual rage and depression among African Americans
were determined by racial discrimination and asserted that black
mistrust of whites is a reasonable attitude based on their experiences
with racial discrimination. In this study, Grier and Cobbs drew on
extensive clinical experience with black patients and concluded that the
treatment of enraged African Americans must center on experiences with
discrimination in the workplace and other sectors of society in order
for psychological healing to take place. They noted that black
[p]eople bear all they can and, if required, bear even more. But if
they are black in present-day America they have been asked to shoulder
too much. They have had all they can stand. They will be harried no
more. Turning from their tormentors, they are filled with rage.
More recently, Cobbs reiterated the point that rage against
discrimination is commonplace among African Americans, but for many,
continues to be turned inward. Silent, all-consuming rage can lead to
inner turmoil, emotional or social withdrawal, and physical health
problems.
African Americans working or traversing historically white places
often feel frustration, anguish, anger, or rage-all of which may be
expressed in their words, the tone of their comments, or the character
of facial expressions. All the focus group respondents indicated in one
way or another that they suffer substantial and recurring stress and
frustration because of racially hostile workplaces. As one Midwestern
respondent put it, her symptoms of stress do not happen "on
weekends or after five o'clock." In the focus group interviews
there is a consensus that much of their life-damaging stress at work
does not come from the performance of the job itself but from hostile
work environments.
Some social science research shows that a person's job satisfaction
is rooted in how much work contributes to a sense of control and to
self-esteem, in how much co-workers and supervisors are helpful in
supporting one's work, and in whether rewards are meritocratic. Black
employees have difficulty doing their best work when conditions and
rewards are inequitable. Recent data demonstrate that African Americans
continue to be rewarded economically at lower levels than do white
Americans. The broad economic costs of being black include continuing
disparities in income, wealth, and occupational position. Some portion
of these disparities stems from the accumulating impact of
discrimination over centuries, while another portion comes from the
well- documented patterns of discrimination in contemporary employment
settings.
Black workers' lives are disrupted by lack of support and
discrimination by co-workers and supervisors; these encounters can
become "life crises" with a serious health impact similar to
that of life crises like the death of a loved one. Recent research on
726 African American men and women showed that the amount of decision
latitude they were allowed on their job was linked to the risk of
hypertension. African American men who were given more control over
decisions on their jobs had fifty percent less prevalence of
hypertension. However, many of our respondents discussed being excluded
from decision-making. As the reader will see, an African American's
attempt to compensate for this lack of control can lead to specific
physical health problems.
In commenting on racially hostile or unsupportive workplace climates,
some focus group participants described general feelings of frustration
and anger, while others told of specific incidents that generated these
feelings. A common source of anger is white use of racist epithets or
similar derogatory references, which can trigger painful individual and
collective memories. One black professional described her reaction to an
incident with a white administrator:
I have felt, I have felt extremely upset, anger, rage, I guess you
would call it? One incident that comes to mind happened in a social
setting. I was with some, with my former boss and some coworkers and a
man who ran, like, a federal program. And we were having dinner, and
he made a comment, and he had been drinking heavily. And he referred
to black people as "niggers" . . . . I'm sitting-he's there,
and I'm here. . . . And as soon as he said it, he looked in my face.
And then he turned beet red, you know? [Laughter] And I said,
"Excuse me, what did you say?" And he just couldn't say
anything. And then my boss, my former boss, intervened and said,
"Now, you know, move his glass, because he's had too much to
drink." And you know just making all these excuses. So, of
course, I got up and left. I said goodnight, and left. And the next
morning, the man called me and apologized. . . . His excuse was that
he had been drinking, you know. And I said, "Well [gives name],
we don't get drunk and just say things that we wouldn't otherwise say.
You know, I don't get drunk and start speaking Spanish. [Laughter].
This was already in you, you know, in order for it to come out.
[Voices: Exactly. Yeah, yeah. ] . . . . I mean so, keep your apology,
I'm not interested.
Then she concluded with a comment on what she did with her anger:
I was so angered that I wanted to get him, you know? I was out to
get him. I called his boss in [names city] . . . who is black, and
informed him of what happened. Because he was referring to his boss,
actually. . . . And he said, "Yeah, he's out with the other
niggers." You know, so he's calling his boss a nigger! And I
think his boss should know that!
Similarly, a secretary in the Midwest related an incident in which
she had to explain the meaning of an epithet to her supervisor, who
subsequently did nothing to reprimand the white employee who used the
term:
A white individual in my department was talking to me, and he
referred to me as "Buckwheat." My supervisor, when I
reported it to her, told me that she did not feel that I looked like
Buckwheat. Nor . . . did she understand what the term meant. Then she
asked me to define it for her. She felt that [the term] was not
derogatory. After I told her what it meant . . . . she said
"Well, you don't exemplify that, so I wouldn't worry about
that." She also refused to talk to the individual.
The impact of racist epithets may be underestimated by many white
observers. One older black psychologist told the first author that when
he hears the epithet "nigger," in his mind's eye he sees a
black man hanging from a tree. Individual and collective memories
compound the damage of present-moment discrimination. The connection
between hostile epithets and the brutality of racism are intimate parts
of the collective memory of African Americans.
Robert Bellah and his associates have noted that communities
"have a history" and "they are constituted by their
past-and for this reason we can speak of a real community as a
'community of memory,' one that does not forget its past."
Collective recollections are not always positive: "Remembering . .
. heritage involve[s] accepting . . . origins, including painful
memories of prejudice and discrimination." Past and present
discriminatory actions-and the contending responses to that
oppression-become inscribed in collective memory. The community passes
along information from one generation to the next about how to deal with
discrimination and the anger it causes. A nurse's assistant noted the
importance of generational advice and collective memory: "Kindness
will kill a person. My grandmother told me that so many times. 'Don't
get upset. Don't fuss. Don't argue with them. Just smile at them."'
[Male voice: "That's true."] After this comment, a health care
professional in the focus group spoke about her rage over a traumatic
workplace incident with a white coworker. She partly attributed the
hostility in their relationship to racial tensions in her workplace:
Most of the time you can do that, but it comes that point where you
just can't. They have backed you into a corner. It's like a mouse, if
you back him into a corner he's going to come out. So, then you just
explode. I had that to happen on the job and I hit this person. I
physically, yes, I hit her. She's white and she called me a
"bitch." [Moderator: After you hit her or before you hit
her?] Before I hit her. That's why I hit her. She was abusive to the
patients, and I had already had a conversation with her, with the
supervisor. . . . [s]he cursed me, and I'm looking at my supervisor
who was her friend. . . . Both of them are white, and this was her
friend. You know, they would go out to lunch together, whatever. She
cursed me in the patient area, and I'm looking to my supervisor for
some kind of response to her. Well, after she didn't say anything to
her, then I cursed her back. And then I thought well, "Okay, this
isn't cool, let me just get away from the situation." And I went
[to] the medication room just to separate myself.
Then she added this to complete the story:
Well, that wasn't good enough for that person. She had to come
where I was and ask me a question that she could have asked the
patient. And I wouldn't respond to her. I said I'm not going to talk
to her when she just cursed me. She just cursed me, what's the point?
So, then she said, "Well, you bitch." When she said that, I
just really lost it and I was out of there and grabbed [her coworker]
by the back of the hair and punched her in the mouth. Well, when that
happened of course your job flashes before your face. It's like
"God, I'm going to lose my job." Well, the supervisor had
her back to us luckily. . . . I was angry with myself because I
allowed this person to get me off my ground. She wasn't worth [it], I
could have lost my job. She wasn't worth that and I was really angry
with myself for allowing her to get me off my ground.
Many cases of discriminatory treatment entail a sequence of events
which take place over time; they consist of more than one encounter. The
white woman cursed the respondent, who responded in turn, triggering
another curse by the white woman. The respondent was angry at her own
actions because she lost control over her own space. When she finished
her account, one man in the group added this: "There's no one
answer to a question like that. Each situation warrants a different
response. I think what helps us as being black now, we understand what
these [white] people think." One consequence of racial oppression
is the understanding one necessarily develops into the behavior of the
oppressor, an effort and level of understanding usually not required of
the latter. Some research has linked the stress caused by this
bicultural stance African Americans must take to increased vulnerability
to illnesses.
A female supervisor in one focus group discussed the link between
black rage and unfair promotion practices in workplace settings:
I think a lot of anger and rage comes in when we . . . feel
like-like I have a friend, he's been with the company twenty years,
and he didn't get a promotion. And he was well over-qualified. They
gave it to a [white] guy who had been there only seven [years], and
knows nothing. So, of course, I was kinda angry with the process, but
it was because he was the ex-boyfriend of the girl who was doing the
promoting. So he was upset about it. But I told him, I felt like this:
"They can only tell you 'no' so many times. Keep applying for
that position."
The anger over mistreatment is more than a matter of what happens to
the black person as an individual. Rage over racism is also fueled by
what happens to friends and family members. Collective memories of
racism against all African Americans, as well as knowledge of specific
discriminatory actions against particular friends and relatives,
multiply racialized stress for African American individuals.
The seriousness of black rage over discrimination was made clear by a
retired professor interviewed in a recent nationwide study of African
Americans. Speaking to a question about the level of his anger toward
whites because of discrimination (on a scale from one to ten), this man
implicitly suggests the serious health consequences of rage:
Ten! I think that there are many blacks whose anger is at that
level. Mine has had time to grow over the years more and more and more
until now I feel that my grasp on handling myself is tenuous. I think
that now I would strike out to the point of killing, and not think
anything about it. I really wouldn't care.
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