Stories from afar (part 2)

Following my post about the Afro-Caribbean boys, my brother-in-law sent me an email with several articles about the institutional racism in British schools (with particular reference to racism towards Afro-Caribbean boys). I've been mulling over how to respond.

Was I aware of institutional racism in the British school system towards Afro-Caribbean boys? Yes. That is rather old hat for teachers in the UK, I'm afraid. At our school, regular meetings were held to discuss the issue, and how best to negate the effects for the boys in the school. And we did our best to put into practice the strategies that were suggested as the best remedial way forward.

Did I need to mention that the boys in that story were Afro-Caribbean? The story itself would probably have lost little if I hadn't.

So why did I? Because, unfortunately, my perception is that most violent crime in London is committed by Afro-Caribbean boys. My point in telling the story was not just to relate the story. It was that I had anticipated some criminal act in these boys, specifically because of their race, and had therefore tried to do something about it, to try and help them plot a different path and future for themselves. I was trying to help them avoid the very statistic they became. And I failed. Horribly, miserably, tragically. That was the point. I doubt I could have made that point without mentioning the boys' race.

Does that make me racist? We're all racist. It's only the extent and direction that varies. If you favour one race over another, for whatever reason, whether for good intentions (like affirmative action is in SA) or bad (like Apartheid was in SA), you are still racist. You might be racist towards Germans, or Chinese. You might love all things American (or hate them) and hate all things Cuban. The fact that you differentiate at all makes you racist.

A better question to ask would be, how do I act on my prejudices (both good and bad)? My answer to that is that I endeavour to help every person I meet in whatever way I can, to enable them to reach their potential. Of course, I don't succeed. I fail dismally in fact, because in South Africa the need is overwhelming, and if I were to truly try and help every person I met, I would be burnt out and broke. But I try when and how I can. And that has to count for something.