Oscar H. Blayton
October 23, 2015
One weekend,
back in 1966, I was traveling with some Marine buddies from Eastern North
Carolina to Myrtle Beach. After night
fell, we began to see roadside signs advertising a “Fish Fry” taking place that
evening near the South Carolina border.
It was late, we had not eaten dinner; and fried fish sounded like a
pretty good idea. We followed the signs
that led down a dark country road to a point where cars were turning into an
open field.
We fell into the
long line of cars and pickup trucks and inched forward until we could see a man
directing the vehicles where to park. Then
we realized that we had a big problem. The
man was wearing a white Klu Klux KIan robe and conical headgear. My three traveling companions were white and
I was in the back seat of the car; so we were able to pull out of line and head
back to the main road without me being noticed.
No one in the
car had said a word when we saw the Klansman directing the parking. No one needed to say anything. We all knew that we had come very close to
entering a particular type of “White Space,” where my presence would not have
been appreciated. No one had to tell us
that the best thing to do was to get out of there.
We joked
about it later; after we had put several miles between us and the fish fry, and
were certain that no one had followed us.
And we continued our trip to Myrtle Beach without any more problems.
Once we got
to Myrtle Beach, my friends and I split up, thinking that we could each do
better meeting girls on our own, rather than in a “pack.” But it did not take long for me to realize that
I had entered another white space. There
was no one walking along the shore in Klan regalia; but in 1966, Myrtle Beach,
South Carolina was resistant to accommodating Black Folk; no matter what the
recently enacted Civil Rights Act said.
White spaces
are those places where Blacks are not expected to show up. They are places where white people exercise
their white privilege that they pretend doesn’t exist.
A classic white
space was Levittown, New York in the 1950s.
It was a community where Blacks were not allowed to live; even though it
was subsidized by G.I. Bill loans and other federal programs. Conservative talk show host, Bill O’Reilly OF
Fox News, grew up in Levittown; and when he was confronted by liberal talk show
host, Jon Stewart, about the white privilege of being able to live there, O’Reilly
conceded that Levittown was segregated in the 1950s, but tried to gloss over
the existence of white privilege that such white spaces provide.
In years past,
white spaces were the front seats of Southern city busses. They were those movie theatres and railroad
cars reserved for whites only. And while
those vestiges of a meaner time have faded away, the stench of white spaces and
white privilege still linger over America.
That stench wafted into our nostrils a few weeks ago when a group of
mostly Black women were removed from the Napa Valley Wine train because of unfounded
allegations of improper conduct. The
wine train has since offered an apology to those women, but that does not
address the problem of why they were put off the train in the first place. It is clear to all but the most confused
among us that white privilege does exist.
And the existence of white spaces is one of the many forms in which white
privilege often manifests itself.
All denials
aside, the Napa Valley Wine Train is one such space. I recognize the smell. I’ve encountered it many times.
In the early
1950s I was seven years old and my parents sent me away to a very nice summer
camp in Vermont. They chose Vermont
because they believed that there would be no danger of racism there. The next summer the camp did not allow me to return. The explanation given to my parents was that
I had gotten into too many fights. The
truth was that I had not gotten into even one fight. The camp also instituted a new policy of
requiring prospective campers to submit a photograph along with their
applications.
Four years
after my Vermont camping experience, a progressive Episcopal priest invited my
family to join Bruton Parish Church in Williamsburg, Virginia. Prior to our becoming members, the church had
been all white for centuries. There were
no crosses burned in the church yard, but several individuals among the
congregation made it abundantly clear that they were not happy with our presence. One prominent member of the congregation who
opposed our membership based his argument on his certainty that Blacks and
whites did not go to the same heaven. He
must have felt that if we could not share the same bus seat, we certainly could
not share the same cloud. In his mind, Heaven
and certain churches were clearly white spaced.
To this day, many American churches are white spaces.
There are
many manifestations of white privilege today, and white space is just one of
them. And a Black presence in a white
space is unwelcome because it contradicts the notions of white meritocracy upon
which white privilege is ultimately justified.
When African
American students complain of not being made to feel welcome at Ivy League
schools, it is because they are perceived by some whites to have trespassed
into white space. When Black
professionals occupying corporate suites get the “stink eye” from their white
counterparts, it’s because executive proficiency and expertise is believed to
be the domain of white people. In the
minds of many whites the only space available to Black Folk is at the back of
the bus, on the bottom rung of the economic ladder or in those human
warehouses, called “prisons.” To some
whites, all of America is white space, and people of color are intruders or mere
inconveniences whose presence are only allowed with permission.
White space
is where white Americans expect to enjoy “The Good Life” and the bounty of this
country. But as with an exclusive
country club, most people of color need not apply.
The tragic
death of Travon Martin can be explained in these terms. George Zimmerman saw Travon as a person of
color who did not have permission to be in his gated community, and took it
upon himself to enforce that white space.
As long as
“The Good Life” that America promises has a label that reads “For Whites Only,”
this country will be mired in its own hatred and bigotry. And for those who refuse to acknowledge the
wretched smell of this facet of white privilege, I suggest that they talk to
those Black women who tried to enjoy some wine and a few laughs on a train in Napa
Valley.
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