Benedict Cumberbatch didn’t cause me to press my outrage button

http://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2015/feb/01/benedict-cumberbatch-didnt-press-outrage-button

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Outraged or not outraged? That is the question. Benedict Cumberbatch, bemoaning the lot of minority actors in Britain, said coloured when he should have said black. Point the flamethrower at him? Maybe not.

I’m with David Oyelowo on this. Give Cumberbatch a break.

He didn’t suffocate a migrant on a deportation plane. He didn’t send anyone to jail because he didn’t like the look of them. He used an antiquated term in making a point that most would agree with. Regrettable, but he apologised and seemed to mean it. And there are bigger villains out there.

Still, I am puzzled, for he is 38, not 78. This is not a word commonly used by his generation. From whence did it makes its way from his subconscious to his mouth via a fine brain? Was it a word older relatives used? He was in 12 Years a Slave. Did it creep into his head via a script? Does he know himself?

Still, in these matters, context is all; for almost anyone who is from a visible minority, or a woman, or who has an accent or a disability or a difference, could choose to be outraged about something virtually every day of the week. To react or not to react? That depends on answers to the checklist. How annoyed am I? If I press the outrage button, will that cause me more distress and wear and tear than the target of my ire? Is my case so strong that others will support it, should adjudication subsequently be necessary? Will this correct behaviour? Is the target even worth thinking about in terms of rehabilitation? Is there value in the hand grenade as deterrent? Any or all of these may cause one to press the outrage button; or to walk on by.

Thus I found myself, early in my career, explaining to a middle-aged man at the East Ham Conservative Association that brown skin did not render me more comfortable than fellow east Londoners packed into an overheated room. And smiling the sweetest smile at the old boy in Yorkshire who sought to engage me in the street about coloured folks and tooth enamel. And by contrast, organising public humiliation for the school governor who confided over the phone – never having met me – that his establishment was being ruined by “darkies”. I called him to the office to discuss it further. He was a better person when he left.