When I was eight-years-old, I experienced racial micro-aggression. There have been other times before, I’m sure. But that’s the instance that I’ll always remember.
I was sitting on the swings during recess, chatting with a friend. We were racing. Somewhere in between our conversation and our race, I lost a shoe. A boy from my class picked it up. Supposedly shocked by its size, he asked me if I “bound my feet.” I was eight-years-old. I didn’t know what that meant, so I did what any child would do: I asked my parents. I don’t think I’ve ever seen them look so disturbed. They explained, with some hesitation, that “binding” was an ancient practice done to prevent young girls’ feet from further growth. The conversation ended there. I knew without instruction, that the subject had, too. But the racism didn’t.
Since then, I’ve experienced racial micro-aggression on a near daily basis. The problem with being educated on certain issues is that, it’s hard to ignore a problem after you’ve been informed of its existence. That’s the case with racial micro-aggression. While most comments aren’t intentionally racist, they can still carry the same harmful undertones. That is, a motif of disassociation that feeds into the we-they dichotomy often apparent in modern society. However, it finds its roots in history.
Coined by psychiatrist Chester M. Pierce in the 1970’s, the term refers to insults and dismissals from non-black Americans directed at African-Americans. Since then, it has expanded its meaning to include those of various non-white races. It may be easy to imagine micro-aggression through slurs and intentional targeting, but they are most often realized through casual comments and everyday interactions. Stereotyping, for instance, plays a huge role in the persistence of systematization. It may seem insignificant, but imagine it this way: each comment is like a chip on a windshield. At first, they hold no weight. They are simply nuisances. But eventually, these chips gather to create a lasting crack. The damage is done, with costly consequences. This is life as a person of color.
If you’re still confused, then I’ve listed a few examples of racial micro-aggression:
“You’re like, really pretty for an Asian.”
On the surface, this appears to be a compliment. However, upon further inspection, it doubles as an example of a backhanded compliment. Why? Note the preposition, “for,” which used in this context, signifies “in spite of.” Implying that something uncontrollable such as race or ethnicity can make a person unattractive is not only presumptuous, but also racist.
Where are you from? No really, where are you from?
Aesthetic differences do not equal geographic or national differences. Americans come in all shapes and sizes, and it’s wrong to assume that someone is foreign just because of how they look. General disbelief at someone’s nationality (which, should not be mistaken for ethnicity) as a result of their aesthetics is racial micro-aggression at it’s peak.
Speaking in any sort of non-English dialect (for instance, Mandarin), because you “want to relate” or “make us feel more comfortable.”
It doesn’t. It highlights differences that some people have spent years trying to hide. You may think you’re helping, but in reality, you’re building walls that they have spent years trying to tear down. If you find yourself saying one or more of these things to a person of color, then I implore you to re-evaluate. These statements perpetuate harmful stereotypes, feeding into years of systematized racism. Having friends of color doesn’t excuse you, or minimize the harm done from relaying such sentiments. You may mean no harm. But to do no harm, these actions should stop.
Let’s make our words further, rather than hinder our progress.