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Brown Is the New Black Brown Is the New Black
(30 minutes later)
I’ve had many lively over-the-fence conversations with my Salvadoran-born neighbor, who moved into my primarily black Los Angeles neighborhood with his wife and children three years ago. Rene and I banter easily about a whole host of things that we have in common, from our shared love of animals to our growing dismay about the fate of justice for nonwhite folks in Donald Trump’s America.I’ve had many lively over-the-fence conversations with my Salvadoran-born neighbor, who moved into my primarily black Los Angeles neighborhood with his wife and children three years ago. Rene and I banter easily about a whole host of things that we have in common, from our shared love of animals to our growing dismay about the fate of justice for nonwhite folks in Donald Trump’s America.
This kind of friendly interethnic connection is common, and has almost always been effortless. But these days, the connection feels deeper. Living in this nakedly racist political climate, something has changed.This kind of friendly interethnic connection is common, and has almost always been effortless. But these days, the connection feels deeper. Living in this nakedly racist political climate, something has changed.
I have to confess, the tendency of many Americans to collapse black and brown into an ethnic monolith — a single political idea, a single struggle, too often fused by media and activists into a single phrase — has made me uneasy. I’ve watched people on both sides of the liberal/conservative divide habitually conflate two different histories. I’ve seen how eager many Americans are to soften the sharp edges of African-American history, either because we think solidarity and connection are more important or (more likely) because black history indicts American history and American founding ideals in very particular ways.I have to confess, the tendency of many Americans to collapse black and brown into an ethnic monolith — a single political idea, a single struggle, too often fused by media and activists into a single phrase — has made me uneasy. I’ve watched people on both sides of the liberal/conservative divide habitually conflate two different histories. I’ve seen how eager many Americans are to soften the sharp edges of African-American history, either because we think solidarity and connection are more important or (more likely) because black history indicts American history and American founding ideals in very particular ways.
Latino history does this too, especially in the West. But it’s important to keep clear the history of black oppression, not least because it helps us understand how so much other codified oppression has followed from it. Black people have grievances that are uniquely ours and that have to be addressed as such. The black/brown monolith puts everyone on the same plane in a way that can blur critical edges of our unique experiences and expectations.Latino history does this too, especially in the West. But it’s important to keep clear the history of black oppression, not least because it helps us understand how so much other codified oppression has followed from it. Black people have grievances that are uniquely ours and that have to be addressed as such. The black/brown monolith puts everyone on the same plane in a way that can blur critical edges of our unique experiences and expectations.
What has always separated Latinos from African-Americans is immigration. While many Americans have always resented people crossing the southern border, those same people tend to glorify the immigrant narrative — the classic bootstraps story of coming to America from a beleaguered home country to plant a flag and make a better life. This resonance has fostered black resentment, not toward Latinos but toward the rest of the country for privileging the immigrant narrative of struggle over black folks’ narrative of struggle, something that’s been going on since the end of slavery. Latinos may struggle like us, but they have had the narrative advantage.What has always separated Latinos from African-Americans is immigration. While many Americans have always resented people crossing the southern border, those same people tend to glorify the immigrant narrative — the classic bootstraps story of coming to America from a beleaguered home country to plant a flag and make a better life. This resonance has fostered black resentment, not toward Latinos but toward the rest of the country for privileging the immigrant narrative of struggle over black folks’ narrative of struggle, something that’s been going on since the end of slavery. Latinos may struggle like us, but they have had the narrative advantage.
No longer. Nearly three years into this Trump presidency, this advantage has vanished. For large swaths of white America, immigration from Mexico and Central America no longer seems to resonate as the ‘ “good’” kind, and south- of- the- border immigrants are now chiefly people to be dumped on, turned back and kept out by any means necessary.No longer. Nearly three years into this Trump presidency, this advantage has vanished. For large swaths of white America, immigration from Mexico and Central America no longer seems to resonate as the ‘ “good’” kind, and south- of- the- border immigrants are now chiefly people to be dumped on, turned back and kept out by any means necessary.
The separation of families at the border, the targeted shooting of Mexicans in El Paso, the recent Supreme Court ruling upholding a roadblock on political asylum for Central Americans — these are just a few incidents of character assassination that are collectively obscuring the essential fact of Latino humanity. That humanity hasn’t disappeared from view; many of us are, of course, disgusted by Mexicans being called criminals and rapists and drug dealers and by elected officials tolerating the insults. But we are no longer surprised by it. We expect it.The separation of families at the border, the targeted shooting of Mexicans in El Paso, the recent Supreme Court ruling upholding a roadblock on political asylum for Central Americans — these are just a few incidents of character assassination that are collectively obscuring the essential fact of Latino humanity. That humanity hasn’t disappeared from view; many of us are, of course, disgusted by Mexicans being called criminals and rapists and drug dealers and by elected officials tolerating the insults. But we are no longer surprised by it. We expect it.
Black people have lived with this a long time, lived in the position of always having to counteract stereotypes and disprove the negatives. In this way, brown has truly become black, or blacker. We are not the same people, but we are standing more and more on the same plane.Black people have lived with this a long time, lived in the position of always having to counteract stereotypes and disprove the negatives. In this way, brown has truly become black, or blacker. We are not the same people, but we are standing more and more on the same plane.
Besides being portrayed as inherently criminal, Latinos as a group are also painted as parasitic, much as black people have been painted since the Reagan era. They are wrongly accused of draining national and state treasuries by being on welfare and otherwise eating up our tax dollars.Besides being portrayed as inherently criminal, Latinos as a group are also painted as parasitic, much as black people have been painted since the Reagan era. They are wrongly accused of draining national and state treasuries by being on welfare and otherwise eating up our tax dollars.
This argument is hardly new. In California, it goes back 25 years to Proposition 187, the 1994 state initiative that forbade undocumented immigrants from using certain public services. But back then there was an immediate outcry and a court challenge to that proposition, and it was ultimately declared unconstitutional. To deprive immigrants of public services as fundamental as schooling because they lacked documentation was seen as patently immoral. But that was then.This argument is hardly new. In California, it goes back 25 years to Proposition 187, the 1994 state initiative that forbade undocumented immigrants from using certain public services. But back then there was an immediate outcry and a court challenge to that proposition, and it was ultimately declared unconstitutional. To deprive immigrants of public services as fundamental as schooling because they lacked documentation was seen as patently immoral. But that was then.
California may have learned its lesson, but as a country we are no longer constrained by such morality. Supporters of Mr. Trump openly and proudly endorse erecting a wall to keep out the unwanted, in much the same way that people openly endorsed erecting the wall of Jim Crow to keep unwanted black people away from legitimate society. It’s worth noting that no one is talking about building a wall, literal or legal, to keep out immigrants from other regions. California may have learned its lesson, but as a country we are no longer constrained by such morality. Supporters of Mr. Trump openly and proudly endorse erecting a wall to keep out the unwanted, in much the same way that people openly endorsed erecting the wall of Jim Crow to keep unwanted black people away from legitimate society. It’s worth noting that no one is talking about building a wall to keep out immigrants from other regions.
Latinos are hated not because they’re so foreign, but because they’re so familiar. They live everywhere in this country and have long worked in our fields, homes, gardens, office buildings, restaurants and parking lots. It’s almost as if Americans feel they’ve earned the right to abuse Latino immigrants: After giving them all this wonderful opportunity, it’s now time to crack down, to control them socially and spatially. The patronizing paradigm of give/take is yet another thing that black and brown are laboring under together.Latinos are hated not because they’re so foreign, but because they’re so familiar. They live everywhere in this country and have long worked in our fields, homes, gardens, office buildings, restaurants and parking lots. It’s almost as if Americans feel they’ve earned the right to abuse Latino immigrants: After giving them all this wonderful opportunity, it’s now time to crack down, to control them socially and spatially. The patronizing paradigm of give/take is yet another thing that black and brown are laboring under together.
“We have more in common than we have differences”: As a journalist and resident of a chiefly black and brown city in Southern California, I have heard this phrase my whole working life. It always felt more aspirational than actual, but now it feels like both: a distressing kind of solidarity, but real.“We have more in common than we have differences”: As a journalist and resident of a chiefly black and brown city in Southern California, I have heard this phrase my whole working life. It always felt more aspirational than actual, but now it feels like both: a distressing kind of solidarity, but real.
When Rene told me recently how he’d been racially harassed and then profiled in a chiefly white neighborhood — resulting in serious criminal-justice consequences that will likely haunt him for a long time — I was instantly and thoroughly indignant in a way that felt new. It also felt oddly empowering. We are more than neighbors, more than members of two groups with overlapping circumstances who are assumed to get along. In a country so experienced in choosing whom to oppress and why, we are family.When Rene told me recently how he’d been racially harassed and then profiled in a chiefly white neighborhood — resulting in serious criminal-justice consequences that will likely haunt him for a long time — I was instantly and thoroughly indignant in a way that felt new. It also felt oddly empowering. We are more than neighbors, more than members of two groups with overlapping circumstances who are assumed to get along. In a country so experienced in choosing whom to oppress and why, we are family.
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