Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza

Have tough conversations.

The holidays can be both magical and fraught with interpersonal tension. And, with the compounded impact of all things 2020, these relationships may be even more strained. If you're heading into the holidays expecting some tough conversations, here are some resources to help you through. Remember, all of these are only suggestions; relationships are unique and complex, and these best practices might not be best for you. Share your thoughts on today's conversation in our digital community.

Happy Monday! And welcome back to the Anti-Racism Daily. Our community is heading into the holiday season, so over the next few days, we'll be curating some of the most impactful posts from the past six months to help you refresh and re-examine this work in all aspects of your life.

To help with that, we've officially launched our virtual community! This space is designed for you to connect with others, share resources, hold conversations around our newsletters, and sign up for events. All proceeds support our work. Flexible payment options are available. Patreon subscribers: check Patreon for an access link using your existing subscription.

I really hope to see you there! If you're more of an email reader, no worries. Nothing is changing here. As always, you can support our work by making a one-time gift on our website or PayPal, or subscribe for $7/month on Patreon. You can also Venmo (@nicoleacardoza).


Nicole

TAKE ACTION

  • Consider if you have the capacity to hold a conversation this holiday season.

  • Make your plan beforehand if you can, using the resources in the last section of the newsletter.

  • Reflect: how has someone called you into a tough conversation recently? What did you learn from it? What did you appreciate about it?

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza (she/her)

The holidays can be both magical and fraught with interpersonal tension. And, with the compounded impact of all things 2020, these relationships may be even more strained. If you're heading into the holidays expecting some tough conversations, here are some resources to help you through. Remember, all of these are only suggestions; relationships are unique and complex, and these best practices might not be best for you. Share your thoughts on today's conversation in our digital community.
 

Call in, not call out.

Often, confrontation isn’t as effective as a nuanced conversation about a tricky topic. Consider leading a generative conversation by leading with your feelings, using “I” statements, and being vulnerable about your own journey with the topic(s) at hand. Please note: if calling someone out is a more direct and straightforward way to start the conversation and feels more generative to you, please do so.

Don’t wait for something to react to.

Most of the work regarding dismantling white supremacy happens as a reaction to a single incident. But for this work to be sustainable, we – especially those with privilege – need to get comfortable with the discomfort of this work proactively, not just as a reaction. Bring it up directly, perhaps by naming how a recent interaction made you feel. 

There is no such thing as the “best” time.

Many people are hesitant to get into tough conversations during the holidays, a time that can feel precious and “distanced” from the tension of everyday life. But there’s rarely a “best” time for difficult conversations. Consider instead: how can I host this conversation in the most generative way at this moment? How can I start this conversation now to create more space for it in the future? 
 

Center whiteness, not Blackness (or other marginalized identities). 

When discussing race specifically (and in the lens of whiteness), many try to defend or validate marginalized communities. But it’s more critical to acknowledge the harm of whiteness itself. When the focus is deconstructing the harm of dominant culture, it gives those who identify tangible ways to analyze and change their actions. This is a critical act in itself; no community needs to be validated by another to “deserve” respect. We all deserve respect, and we need to adjust our actions and recognize our shortcomings to provide it.

Set consequences.

Hold your loved ones accountable. Ensure that you’re no longer tolerating their statements. Note how their continued racism will affect your relationship, and be prepared to stand firm. Remember that accountability is a practice of love, and so is setting boundaries for you and yours.
 

Lead by example.

Demonstrate the actions you’ve taken to dismantle white supremacy in your own life. Use examples of what you’ve learned and unlearned in your own education. Be vulnerable about where you’re still growing – because we all have space to improve! And note how else you’re moving forward.

Invite them to join in.

If you feel resourced, you can use this time to invite this person to join in – perhaps by reading a book together, having further discussions, etc. If that’s not available to you at the moment, you can offer to check in with them later to see how they’re progressing.

Resource yourself.

Tough conversations with loved ones are not easy. If you have the opportunity, make a self-care plan for before, during, and after. Beforehand, practice some deep breathing and grounding exercises. Remember to check in with your breath and body during the conversation. And, plan for some time to decompress afterward, whether that’s scheduling time to decompress with a friend or therapist, taking a long walk later, journaling, etc. It might also be helpful to write some talking points and goals beforehand to help you feel more comfortable.

Additional Resources

Want To Have Better Conversations About Racism With Your Parents? Here's How (NPR)
Let's Talk! Discussing race and other difficult topics with students. (Tolerance)
The Anti-Racist Educator
The Courage to Not Know (Brené Brown)
How White People Can Talk To Each Other About Disrupting Racism (DoSomething)
How White People Can Hold Each Other Accountable to Stop Institutional Racism (Teen Vogue)

RELATED ISSUES

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Thank you for all your financial contributions! If you haven't already, consider making a monthly donation to this work. These funds will help me operationalize this work for greatest impact.

Subscribe on Patreon | Give one-time on PayPal | Venmo @nicoleacardoza

Read More
Jami Nakamura Lin Nicole Cardoza Jami Nakamura Lin Nicole Cardoza

Reject the model minority myth.

Happy Tuesday, everyone! In today's Anti-Racism Daily, Jami unpacks the "model minority myth" and its lasting impact on the racism and discrimination marginalized groups experience. 

And remember, this is a work in protest. Especially when everything feels overwhelming and hopeless. Each action we take brings us one step further to the equitable future we all deserve. Keep going ✊🏾.

Thank you all for your contributions. To support our work, you can give one-time on our website, PayPal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza), or subscribe for $5/mo on our Patreon.

Nicole

TAKE ACTION

  • Unpack who you consider “Asian American.” If you think things like “there are so many Asian Americans at this college,” what kinds of Asian Americans are you actually talking about?

  • Take time to learn more about the history of Asian Americans in your community, particularly refugees and the recently immigrated. 

  • Resist media rhetoric that portrays recent protests as destructive and violent, instead of as actions in response to the destructive, violent anti-Black practices in our policing and government.

GET EDUCATED

By Jami Nakamura Lin

After our recent article on affirmative action (Anti-Racism Daily), several readers were curious about the myth of the model minority. As an Asian American, this myth has followed me all my life; I was exposed to its pervasive narrative long before I ever heard the term. As a child, I heard flippant “of course you did well on this test— you’re Asian!” comments from friends at school, and dismissive comments about other people of color from elderly relatives at home, who believed that since we had made it, everyone else should have, too. 
 

But these types of remarks reflect just the surface of the myth. The core of the model minority myth is the idea that Asian Americans were “able to rise to ‘honorary white’ status through assimilation, hard work and intelligence… [the myth is used] to put down and dismiss other communities of color; especially Black folks and Black political resistance,” explains the Asian Pacific American Labor Alliance (APALA). The term “model minority” was coined by white journalist William Pettersen in a 1966 article called “Success Story, Japanese-American Style” (New York Times Magazine). He praised Japanese Americans for their triumph over adversity while explicitly comparing them with what he called the “problem minorities,” by which he meant first and foremost Black Americans. 
 

Pettersen’s article did not appear out of a vacuum, but amidst major events that were shaping the face of America. In 1965 Congress passed the Immigration and Nationality Act, which replaced a restrictive national-origins quota with one that prioritized family members and the highly educated (House of Representatives Archive). This act replaced the immigration laws of 1917 and 1924,  which had banned virtually all immigration from Asia (Densho). An unintended outcome of the 1965 law was a dramatic increase in immigration from non-European countries—especially Asian ones (History). (I can see how these laws have shaped my own family’s journey: my Japanese and Okinawan great-grandparents moved to America during the decades prior to the laws’ implementation, while my Taiwanese father and his family came in 1971, six years after the passage of the Immigration and Nationality Act).
 

Secondly, the model minority myth appeared during the 1960s civil rights movement. “Numerous politicians and academics and the mainstream media contrasted Chinese with African Americans,” writes historian Ellen D. Wu (LA Times). “They found it expedient to invoke Chinese “culture” to counter the demands of civil rights and black power activists for substantive change.” These people believed that East Asians’ success meant that it should be possible for Black Americans to achieve success without dismantling the system. There’s no racism, the myth tries to sweetly convince: anyone can succeed in America, as long as you’re compliant and hard-working. It elides the differences in the experiences in communities of color, and particularly the trauma, disenfranchisement, and dehumanization that Black people have faced in this country since 1619 when the first slave ship arrived (The 1619 Project). 
 

Another problematic outcome of the myth is that it also presents Asian America as a homogenous monolith, ignoring the wide diversity within. In 2017, the poverty rate among Japanese Americans (the group Pettersen originally called the “model minority”) was 3.8%, the lowest of all Asian ethnicities, while the rate among Burmese Americans was 28.4% (AAPI Data). But the model minority myth centers East Asians and the wealthiest Asian Americans, while rendering the rest—North, West, South, and Southeast Asians, struggling Asian Americans—invisible. We ignore the communities and the cultures that were colonized and that were most affected by our interference in the Vietnam War and the Secret War (LA Times). 
 

The myth can be hard to denounce, partially because some Asian Americans (particularly wealthy East Asians, who benefit the most) wholeheartedly buy into it. And why not? The myth presents us as being responsible for our own success, as being people who fought against adversity and won. This can ring true to us, for as descendants of recent immigrants (or immigrants ourselves), we often do remember the struggle and discrimination we’ve faced. But we cannot allow ourselves to have tunnel vision at our own experience while ignoring the differences between our own experiences and those of Black Americans. The myth can be seductive, making us feel like we earned everything, deserve everything, which leads to us aligning ourselves with whiteness instead of being in solidarity with other people of color. Today, this is most visible in wealthy East Asians’ lawsuits against affirmative action, steps that align them with whiteness instead of in solidarity with other people of color (as Allen Chang outlines in his thorough article at Vox). 
 

While most people today don’t throw around the terms “model minority” or “problem minority,” the stereotypes behind the myth are still pervasive today, seeping into our culture in insidious ways. When the media decries the recent “violent protests,” besides ignoring the role of the police as instigators (NY Times), they further the narrative that if Black people just protested in the right way, they would achieve their goals. History has proven otherwise. We cannot believe this rhetoric. We cannot use the supposed success of Asian Americans to lay blame at the feet of Black Americans instead of at the towering, crushing heel of systemic racism.

key takeaways

  • Critical race theory is a school of thought that analyzes how racism persists in social and political systems

  • The Trump administration aims to remove diversity trainings that use critical race theory, which impacts the federal government and conversations on race as a whole

  • Trump has fueled racism and divisiveness to maintain and gain power.

RELATED ISSUES

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Thank you for all your financial contributions! If you haven't already, consider making a monthly donation to this work. These funds will help me operationalize this work for greatest impact.

Subscribe on Patreon | Give one-time on PayPal | Venmo @nicoleacardoza

Read More
Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza

Start seeing color.

Get daily actions in your inbox. Subscribe Now ›

It's Friday and I hope you're all taking good care of yourselves. Today we're focusing on a phrase I've seen floating around in discussions of the events of the week past. I find the history and psychology behind the term illuminating, so I hope today's post encourages you to understand the phrase itself and why people tend to retreat to it in conversations on race.

Tomorrow is Study Hall, our weekly email that addresses questions and insights shared by the community on the key topics we've discussed so far. This one is going to be rich, and if you have anything you'd like to add, reply to this email to share. I know the reply email address looks suspect, but I promise you I'll get to it. It saves your responses to Mailchimp, the platform we use to send these emails, so they're easy to sort and respond. Our general inbox is a bit overwhelmed with trolls, so I'll be slow to respond as I sort through.

As always, your support is greatly appreciated. You can give one-time on our website, PayPal or via Venmo (@nicoleacardoza). Or, subscribe monthly to our Patreon to contribute regularly.

Nicole

ps – if we haven't met, you can learn more about me, the Anti-Racism Daily and what we stand for in this video.

Share | Tweet | Forward

TAKE ACTION

Write down the ten people you most trust to guide your decision-making. Then notice their ages, races, genders, education levels, religions, etc. Become aware of missing perspectives and reach out to people who can help you to connect with potential new confidants.

This action is from this Tufts article, referenced in the text below.

GET EDUCATED

By Nicole Cardoza

When discussing racism and current events with others, you may hear someone say, “I don’t see color.” This term may have good intentions, but as we discussed, there’s a difference between intent and impact (Anti-Racism Daily). Oftentimes, the concept is rooted in the idea that beyond our racial/ethnic background and other parts of our identity, we are all human. We have more in common than our differences. And we deserve a world that supports all of us equally. We should never be treated differently by our skin color, and if we teach our children that, we would live in a better world. 

That all sounds like a lovely dream, but it’s certainly not our reality. We live in a society right now that is incredibly unequal. And to imply that we are all the same dismisses the pain and suffering that marginalized people experience. This is an example of racial “colorblindness”, or, “the idea that ignoring or overlooking racial and ethnic differences promotes racial harmony” (Teaching Tolerance).

This idea has been shaped over time throughout history. After any period of civic unrest, political leaders urge us to embrace what’s born anew from civil strife and look forward to the future as if this utopia already exists (Washington Post). Instead of holding ourselves accountable for historical racial injustices, it’s easier to pretend that they don’t exist. We’ve seen that play out with our current president, who emphasized that there were “bad people” “on both sides” during the Charlottesville in 2019 (USA Today), and white people are also getting killed by police (NYTimes).

And these practices become incredibly harmful when they become part of everyday life. When we disregard how one’s racial/ethnic identity affects their lived experience, we tend to do the opposite of what some may intend. In this way, we can’t recognize how pervasive and persistent racism is in our society, and how frequently people of color experience violence and harm. This goes beyond the prominent violence we read about on the news, but how our skin color leads to side-eyes on the street, microaggressions at the workplace, or discrimination when applying for a job.

"
Saying you’re color blind means you can't address racism in all its tentacled infrastructure — because you can't address what you aren't willing to see.

 Autumn McDonald for KQED

When these systemic injustices aren’t addressed, it’s easy to place personal responsibility on individuals that are victimized by a much broader system, individuals with less privilege and power to change the circumstances in which they operate. It also lets anyone that reinforces white supremacy off the hook – particularly the onlooker. This is exacerbated by the individualism that the United States is built on; the notion that we can all “pull ourselves up by our bootstraps.” It’s also how the conversation moves away from police brutality against Black people, for example, to judging whether the person that was shot “deserved it,” or blaming them for not “staying quiet” and “doing the right thing.”

And although some people can choose not to “see color,” people of color don’t have the privilege to decide how others view them based on their skin color. When someone says they don’t see color, they may also may not be able to see exactly the racism and discrimination people of color experience on a regular basis.

"
I protest because I’m tired of the white privilege that protects cops who are murderers. I am exhausted that white people fail to recognize their privileges and the ramifications of those privileges. I protest because I live in a society where I don’t have the luxury to say, “I don’t see color,” because my color is the most visible thing about me.

Zahabu Gentille Rukera (Gege), student, for Syracuse University’s Daily Orange

When we view the unique challenges that people of color face in our society, it’s also easy to recognize white privilege. In fact, several sociologists discovered that as people who identify as white continued to gain awareness about racial and ethnic disparities, they were able to change their own relationship to their white identity, moving from maintaining the status quo to dismantling the systems that oppress non-white individuals (The Atlantic).
 

One more thing to remember about all this: racial colorblindness is actually impossible. Sociologist and cognitive psychologists emphasize that unconscious racial bias is deeply rooted in our society and shapes our perception, no matter how well-intentioned we are (Time). To be clear, there’s a difference between the biases themselves and acting on them. But they still exist.

You may have used this statement but never intended to communicate any of these assumptions. This isn’t a challenge against your values, but the language – and as we’ve discussed, language matters (Anti-Racism Daily). Instead, use the opportunity to say what you mean. Give voice to the challenges people of color face so others can learn and take action. Researchers emphasize that having conversations about race is the first step to further understanding and eases the anxieties that can come up in future conversations (Tufts).

And stay in inquiry about what you might use those words to protect yourself from. Is it fear of judgment? Or shame about the past? Sometimes, the best choice is to move from defensiveness to inquiry and do more listening to understand. Whatever you do, leave the words “I don’t see color behind.” Unless, of course, if you cannot see the colors red, blue, or green.

key takeaways

  • "I don't see color" is a statement that may be well-intentioned, but is counter-productive to dismantling white supremacy

  • Racial colorblindness prevents people from recognizing implicit biases and the harm communities of color face

  • Our history has shaped our perception of racial colorblindness with false promises

RELATED ISSUES

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Thank you for all your financial contributions! If you haven't already, consider making a monthly donation to this work. These funds will help me operationalize this work for greatest impact.

Subscribe on Patreon | Give one-time on PayPal | Venmo @nicoleacardoza

Read More
Nicole Cardoza Nicole Cardoza

Capitalize B in Black and I in Indigenous.

Get daily actions in your inbox. Subscribe Now ›

Hi all,

Today's newsletter looks at how language wields power, and how quickly our language is changing based on the movement of the past few weeks. I particularly liked writing this one because, as someone that's always defined herself as Black, I didn't know the grammatical and historical context of the terms below. I love that reclaiming something as simple as a capital letter can carry so much pride, belonging, and historical significance. 

ps – your support makes these email possible! You can donate one-time on Paypal or Venmo (@nicoleacardoza) or give monthly on Patreon to keep these going.

- Nicole

Share | Tweet | Forward

TAKE ACTION

Capitalize the B in Black when using in reference to a person or group of people

Understand the cultural difference between "African American" and "Black" and use correctly. If you must, use "Black" if referring to a Black person and you are unclear of their background.

GET EDUCATED

Capitalizing to signify respect.

Last Friday (on Juneteenth) the Associated Press announced that it was updating its style guide to capitalize the "B" in "Black" and "I" in "Indigenous", a decision that came after several news outlets changed their own standards in the past few weeks to signify respect and understanding in the wake of the protests.

Although the difference between a capitalized letter may seem harmless, it carries weight. Our language carries power, and, according to Lori Tharps, an associate professor of journalism at Temple University, "influences how we validate, or invalidate, identity". And with Black there's history with how we have been perceived in the press. W.E.B DuBois fought in the 1890s for the term "negro," which was commonly used at the time, to be written as "Negro," considering all other racial and ethnic identifiers were already being written in uppercase. As the word negro phased out in the mid-1960s and was replaced with "black," the conversation restarted to continue to add respect to the term that identifies a community of people systemically marginalized because of the color of their skin. You can read more about the historical significance here >

Both terms Black and Indigenous represent distinct communities with shared cultures and experiences that differ from dominant culture, or whiteness. According to Sapiens, capitalizing Indigenous helps to "articulate the common challenges they faced as communities impacted by colonialism, settler governments, displacement, and exploitation." Similarly, capitalizing Black signifies "an essential and shared sense of history, identity and community among people who identify as Black, including those in the African diaspora and within Africa" (via Axois). As a contrast to these definitions, the lowercase "black" is a color, not a person. And the lowercase "indigenous" signifies that anyone is from any place.

"When a copyeditor deletes the capital ‘B,’ they are in effect deleting the history and contributions of my people.”

– Lori Tharps, Associate Professor of Journalism at Temple University

So we're capitalizing Black now. What about "white"?

The AP is actively reviewing their guidelines on this, but currently has "white" used as lowercase in their style guide. But standards on this vary in different publications, and in personal opinions, for a multitude of reasons. To fully understand it, we have to first acknowledge that race itself is a social construct, formed and shaped over history. Race was a way to yield power and privileges over others, and preserve identities from being "tainted" by others. I'm simplifying, and recommend this article by Ta-nehisi Coates for details.

The need to add respect and understanding to the Black community is also in response to whiteness. I mentioned above that acknowledging Black and Indigenous as a community helps to "articulate the common challenges," and these challenges are an effect of being marginalized and exploited by dominant culture (more on that here). Some use this point to argue against white being capitalized, because white people already have enough power and don't need further acknowledgement. In these cases, some writers also note that white supremacists often capitalize white to demonstrate that they should remain in power. I paraphrased a detailed perspective you can read here >

On the other hand, other journalisms note that without identifying whiteness as its own race that, in itself, includes practices of racism and oppression, we won't move forward with it. Not identifying white as its own race also perpetuates the idea that it's the normal and status quo. The Center for the Study of Social Policy announced that it would follow the American Psychological Association’s style rules and capitalize white, citing the following:

"We believe that it is important to call attention to White as a race as a way to understand and give voice to how Whiteness functions in our social and political institutions and our communities. Moreover, the detachment of ‘White’ as a proper noun allows White people to sit out of conversations about race and removes accountability from White people’s and White institutions’ involvement in racism". You can read their full statement here >

Another argument on this is purely grammatical: if Black is capitalized, white should be too. They both are used as proper nouns and represent groups of people, and it looks unbalanced without.

I used the AP style guide for the sake of writing this email, as did most of the articles linked, so you can see it in action for yourself.

Why not African-American?
The term is still commonly used, but doesn't reflect the breadth of the Black population. African American refers to an American Black person of African descent. But there are Black people that more closely identify their roots to the Caribbean, for example, so Caribbean American may be preferred, and this person can also identify as Black. There are also Black people all around the world that may not have roots here; as of 2016, about 10% of Black people in the United States are foreign born. 

For some Black people there's also a cultural difference. I am an African American woman, but personally feel more connected to the broad definition of Black; my African heritage is unknown to me, and I've also got Portuguese blood in my ancestry. Black, to me, feels more representative of the full complexity of my identity.

Also, the hyphen between African-American and all other race / ethnicity mashups was removed by the AP Style guide in 2019, noting that the hyphen dates to the 19th century as a way to distinguish immigrants as “other” and has been a common microaggression for more than a century.

I personally didn't know anything about the hyphens until researching this piece, and will reflect in my future emails.

ps – remember our conversation on diversifying news and media? Note that the AP and Poynter, another prominent voice in journalistic standards, announced this news without citing any Black or Indigenous journalists. As this conversation grows, there's another conversation on ensuring Black and Indigenous journalists are in the newsrooms to help guide this narrative.

Black America is constituted overwhelmingly by the descendants of people who were not only brought to the country against their will but were later inducted into an ambivalent form of citizenship without their input. The Fourteenth Amendment, which granted citizenship to all those born here, supposedly resolved the question of the status of ex-slaves, though those four million individuals were not consulted in its ratification. The unspoken yield of this history is the possibility that the words “African” and “American” should not be joined by a hyphen but separated by an ellipsis.


– Jelani Cobb for the New Yorker

PLEDGE YOUR SUPPORT

Thank you for all your financial contributions! If you haven't already, consider making a monthly donation to this work. These funds will help me operationalize this work for greatest impact.

Subscribe on Patreon | Give one-time on PayPal | Venmo @nicoleacardoza

Read More