Sophie: Passing White
A few weeks ago, I called out to Instagram in search of mixed race people — particularly those with Black heritage — to share their experiences. In the second guest post in this series, Sophie sent me a couple of poems reflecting on being white-passing and encounters she’s had with in-laws and her ex’s family members.
Sitting at the dining table in our rented house in rural Scotland, I am surrounded by white faces. I am
always surrounded by white faces, I fit in. It didn’t (doesn’t) strike me as odd or uncomfortable. I’m
used to just being called tanned. The conversation was uninteresting and unrelenting but then I
heard a torrent of hatred. He was the uncle to my ex, a half-German half-Scottish man. It came about
when he was trying to explain how much he hates his son’s wife.
Diatribe of a middle-aged German Scotsman
‘she is so fat,
she is on benefits,
my son deserves better,
she is a drain on him
Let me explain how much I hate her
You know how much I hate THE gays.
I hate her more.
Now you know I’d cross the road if a black man was walking down it.
If she was on the other side,
I’d step into the road and get hit by a car.
Pause for laughter
There was no laughter, more of a stunned silence, a draining of colour of the faces around me. I
didn’t say anything. All the eyes trained on me.
You know, Sophie’s family is Black,’ one said.
Silence again…
His wife sits next to him tears slowly running down her face. I was told she is the type of woman who
loves everyone, cares about everyone. Yet she is married to a man with such hatred to others. I felt
bad for her at the time. That the man she loved could harbour those feelings and embarrass her like
that. Yes, I was worried about her embarrassment. Now I don’t feel sorry for her, she chooses to be
with a man who believes that black people, gay people and most likely every non-white or straight
person is scum. His choice of word… scum. Isn’t that white privilege, she can be with someone who
openly talks like that because in most cases it doesn’t directly affect her. In their home no on else
has to hear those words.
But at this dining table in rural Scotland we all heard. After they left everyone checked that I was
okay. I was, I decided there was no point expending energy trying to change his mind. In a more
intimate moment, we sat in bed re living what had just taken place. My ex was filled with remorse
and embarrassment, he spiralled. His emotions took over and the response was anger and guilt. But
not for me he was upset, his upset. More valid than mine it seemed. I had to hold him, to console
him, tell him it didn’t matter. What a picture my brown arms encompassing a crying white boy as he
sobs because his uncle was a racist. That’s an odd picture. I couldn’t be upset or angry not with the
onslaught of emotion from someone else. It took over, his white guilt overtook that fact that I had
just sat through a frankly xenophobic conversation at the hands of his family.
To call them racist would make my mother in law cringe. Her face would pale, and she would
become defensive. The people she loves aren’t like that. The truth is she has never had to question
them because it doesn’t directly affect her. She doesn’t have to deal with the constant battle for
rights and justice. It’s a given. She doesn’t have to have her body sexualised, brutalised or destroyed
just because of the colour of her skin. To some extent neither do I, I pass for white. They don’t know
I’m not on their team.
A conversation with my mother in law (that only happened in my head)
She isn’t a racist, they aren’t racists.
They would take it as an insult. But they are good people they don’t mean it. Does
that make them any less racist? Their ignorance causes pain. The word shouldn’t be seen as
an insult to white people, its an opportunity. To educate yourself and become a better
person. If you can’t do that then you don’t deserve the benefits of my race. You don’t deserve
my love and culture.
Can you not see how those words hurt your grand daughter and the woman your
son loves?
But they didn’t mean it like that
They didn’t say it about you.
They said it about one of us.
I am no longer sitting by and listening to conversations because they don’t directly aim it at
me. What they said hurt me and people I love. It could have had major consequences for
people like me.
When was the last time something you said resulted in a black person’s death?
Never
of course not. But the underlying hatred and intolerance that fuels these views do
kill people, they do wrongly persecute people.
Can you see how in a different situation that what they said could harm someone?
Their words hold power, a power that has resulted in black husbands, son, brothers, mothers
etc being destroyed.
-silence-
But they aren’t racist.
