Words of Wis(e)dom: Thoughts on Tim Wise’s lecture

One of my favorite aspects of (Tim) Wise’s lecture is when he, like many before him, exposes the contradictions of white America’s “rugged-individualistic” psyche. He details how the United States government has “regularly and consistently intervened on behalf of white America to create wealth” through the Homestead Act in the 1860s and through two housing programs in the 1930s-60s (the Federal Housing Administration and Veterans Home programs). But, it’s interesting how language helps define what constitutes legitimate government intervention in the minds of white America. The way he highlights the role of race and language in constructing these particular images and postitive/negative associations is beyond fascinating (“welfare” versus “nation-building”)—language so subtle, yet profound and extremely effective. I have a great-aunt who periodically goes on rants about welfare and “laziness”; interestingly, she is on “government assistance” (she will quickly correct you: she is not welfare!!!) and completely separates herself and her economic and social situation from those “lazy people” on welfare. The power and effectiveness of race and political rhetoric and language is astounding.
Another brilliant point is Wise’s response to some people’s complaints concerning American slavery and its legacy on the present (“Slavery was a long time ago; get over it”). The most common reaction from [white] individuals, after discovering that I am an African and African American Studies major, is: “Why do you want to learn about their history?” And some ask with genuine sincerity, while others inquire with utter confusion. Yet, regardless of one’s intention when asking such a question, the implication is quite clear (and disturbing): African American history remains on the margins of the collective “American experience” narrative. Usually, the conversation then turns to the topic of slavery, and, without a doubt, the “When are they going to get over it?” comment manages to slip out. And, it’s such a strange, weird question. Tim Wise’s response to such rhetoric is so brilliant and not just because it humors me to imagine the look of outrage and horror on the faces of “Tea Partiers” and Conservative or (as Sarah Palin would say) “real” Americans if confronted with such a response.
Wise, then, accurately asserts that we, as a society, love the past “when it makes us feel good” (although I’m unsure how war and American militarism could make anyone feel “good”). But, yes, perhaps that is true—however, I don’t think it fully explains why some white Americans quickly brush off slavery and cling to notions of patriotism (i.e. vehemently celebrating the 4th of July holiday). Loosely using hooks’ “domination ideology” and theories helps me make sense of it: “Western culture perpetuates myths of domination.” When using and applying this idea to white Americans’ reverence towards the 4th of July holiday, it makes sense to me: it becomes a way for some white Americans to re-imagine themselves as powerful and dominating, and that they, too, share the glory of those who “fought for independence.” Of course, this notion is continuously and consistently perpetuated by American culture, such as the media, social and political institutions, and so on. The 4th of July reflects a collective experience and a collective “American” narrative for some white Americans. Yet, the same white Americans brush off the shared, collective experience of American slavery (a “peculiar institution” of white domination). American slavery is their (African Americans) history. But, I’m not satisfied with thinking that it is because white Americans feel “guilty” about slavery and therefore want to forget about it. That completely ignores the large numbers of white Americans who, consistently, vote against their interests by giving into racial paranoia and fears. That, to me, does not express guilt; on the contrary, it reveals an ever-present determination to maintain white supremacy and further guarantee its presence in American society.