Article: I recorded the racist things people said and did to

[bronxgirl]

This article just came up on my FB page and I thought it was pretty relevant to some of our current discussions. I thought she did a really good job of explaining micro-aggressions.  I've found perspectives like this very helpful in recognizing and addressing my white privilege.

www.romper.com/p/i-recorded-the-racist-things-people-said-did-to-me-for-2-weeks-1690?utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=partnerships&utm_campaign=kveller

Margaret e Jacobsen•6 days ago

I Recorded The Racist Things People Said & Did To Me For 2 Weeks


I was surrounded by almost all white children growing up. I was usually the only black girl in gymnastics, swimming class, ballet, golf — any activity I did, I could guarantee I was the only one with brown skin and kinky hair. From an early age I'd gotten used to hearing things like, “Do you tan?” and, “I wish I could have your skin.” Questions like, “Can I just cut your hair off and wear it for myself?” “Why is your hair nappy?” and "Why isn’t it soft like mine?" were always present. It was normal for my friends to touch my hair and skin without asking, as if I was there for their amusement, because I looked and felt different.

I recall one time, at 12 years old, sitting in a cabin full of girls I was in Girl Scouts with when they told a black joke. It was uncomfortable, but I thought I was living in post-racial America, so I kept my objections to myself. I didn’t know it at the time — I didn’t realize that, from the beginning, I’d been trying to make the white people around me comfortable with my otherness. Even though all too often I was uncomfortable hearing the jokes about black people, uncomfortable with the touching of my body and the backhanded compliments, I put the needs, comfort, and safety of white people above my own.

Now, when someone questions why my skin is so dark, and when they express shock and surprise over my love Edwardian and Victorian literature, I know they believe they're questioning my character, not their own. These micro-aggressions reveal themselves everywhere throughout my day, sometimes even amongst my friends. It gave me an idea: what would happen if I directed those same micro-aggressions aimed at me back at white people? How often do white people field comments about their hair and their skin? How often do they have people question their love of Chauncey and Shakespeare?

I thought I’d step in and give white people what they’ve been giving to me these past 28 years: racism, tucked right beneath the surface.

The Experiment

I knew the first few times I responded to a white person's backhanded compliment with another backhanded compliment would probably feel a bit uncomfortable, so I gave myself two weeks. I needed to get used to a new way of responding to racist words, a new way of standing up for myself; making myself more visible. I needed to get used to “backwards racism”: saying the things people felt totally comfortable saying to me back to them.

While normally I’d smile and try to redirect the conversation, for the next 14 days, I’d no longer being focusing on appeasing white people. Now, all my attention was focused on appeasing myself.

Day 1 And Day 2

On the first day of my experiment, no one said anything remotely racist to me, even though I was like, “TRY ME! PLEASE!” I wanted to put to use all the phrases I’d been practicing in my head and in front of the mirror. For a tiny moment, I thought that perhaps everyone had suddenly become enlightened and no longer systematically conditioned to be racist.

I was proven wrong on the second day though, when someone at a local coffee shop stopped me, complimented my hair, and then touched it without asking. Even though I'd prepared myself for it, I was momentarily paralyzed by shock. Then I touched their hair back, which, if I'm being totally honest, I really didn’t want to do. It looked oily, and didn’t feel nice, but I did it anyway.

I think it startled them. I made sure to comment on how stringy it was, since they had commented on how surprisingly soft my hair is. Which happens constantly. Like, what did you think my hair would feel like? A rock? It’s hair.

"Talking back" didn't exactly feel powerful, the way I'd imagined it might be. It made me feel small and powerless, like the only thing I could say and do was the very thing that had hurt me in the first place.

Day 2 And Day 3


After the first two days, I was feeling a little more confident in my responses. Which got me thinking about how I often choose to make white people comfortable when they speak to me. I often do it over my own comfort out of fear I’ll be labeled an “angry” black woman, or “just like all of them.” I wondered: When did I learn this, and why have I continued it into my adulthood?

In the lobby of the Ace Hotel, someone sitting next to me made yet another comment about my hair. As they spoke, they stretched their hand out to touch it. It happens almost once a day, yet never ceases to shock me. The comment went something like this:

I love your hair! I bet it feels so cool!

My response as I dodged their hand was, “I really don’t love your hair, and I doubt it feels that cool,” while I ran my fingers back their straight hair. I know I was suppose to say back what they said to me, but I wanted to be honest, and I was frustrated. Why is it OK for strangers to touch me without permission? I’m not here for anyone's entertainment, or to be looked at and touched.


I don’t think they appreciated my comment, but I didn’t care. I didn’t appreciate the assumption that I would be OK being petted like an animal. Later, I was having a conversation with a white male about what my dating experience as a black woman had been like. He rolled his eyes during many parts of our discussion, sometimes interjecting with “White women probably experience this stuff too…” and “Maybe you’re just overthinking it,” and advising me to “definitely don’t talk about race when you’re on a date!”

Instead of being quiet (which is what I normally do), I spoke up. I let him know that he had no right to tell me that my experiences weren’t valid simply because he couldn’t understand them. I asked him to tell me stories of his horrible dating experiences, then I proceeded to let him know that I thought it was all in his head; that those women he went on dates with were all in the right, and that he shouldn’t have put so much pressure on them to talk about his boring day-to-day life, or his ridiculous motorcycle. Then I let him know that the women were wise in not dating a person with no substance. And I walked away, because I don’t have the space in my life to be told for the 100 time that I am not valid.

Day 5 And Day 6

Both of these days were uneventful, and purposefully so. I sat with other black women talking about my experiment and all the ways it was making me feel. I asked them to share instances that really made them feel insignificant as humans. It was frustrating just how often we, as black women, have to encounter offensive words or behavior, and when we stand up for ourselves, we're met with resistance. It's incredibly paralyzing.

I was taking more notice than ever of the backhanded compliments, and all the racism that seeps through in everyday conversation. I wanted to fight back — but I was tired.


So for two days, I took care of myself and my spirit. Interacting with those who choose to tear me down wasn’t healthy.

Day 7 And Day 8

At this point in the experiment, I felt really irritated and actually didn't want to interact with any white people — especially if the issue of race came up. Unfortunately, that wasn't an option. On day seven, we went out to a casino for the night to celebrate my partner's birthday. To be honest, I was anxious of what might happen.

There weren't many other black people around, and when I smiled as I walked past people, no one returned the gesture. At one point an older man was holding the door for a white woman in front of me, and when he saw me he just glared and let the door go. I shouted after him “I didn’t need your help anyway!” After that happened, I went up to my room, laid in bed, and cried. It was such a subtle thing that he did, and I'm sure he didn't think twice about his actions. I couldn't stop thinking about it. I felt so dirty. And ashamed.

The next morning we ate downstairs at the buffet, which is honestly the best part of ANY casino I focused on getting my food and tried to ignore the staring. While serving myself potatoes, one of the women working from behind the counter and called her friend over without even acknowledging me. She yelled, "I think she has the same hair as your mixed daughter!”

All I wanted to do was eat my food, but then the questions started. The woman behind the counter, who was white, asked about what I did to keep my hair looking like mine, so I explained that you have to keep kinky hair hydrated.




Was it time to go home yet?


Day 9 And Day 10

Honestly, I was dreading the fact that I'd signed up for this experiment. I didn’t like that I had suddenly turned a magnifying glass onto my life. I didn’t like that I was facing racism head-on every time it happened. I wanted to highlight how degrading it could be, how sad and frustrating of a process it was to always be aware of he ways people's words can hurt.

While picking my kids up from school one afternoon, a mom came up to me and said, “You and your family are so beautiful! I love your style and your ..." she paused, then added, “Look. May I photograph you guys sometime?” I looked her in the eye and said, “Sure!” She proceeded to tell me about how hard it was to find black families like mine. When I asked her what that meant, she tried to explain, but I interrupted saying: “You know what’s not hard to find? White families."

I walked off to pick up my kids and I didn’t bother to look back her way.

Day 11 And Day 12


Since I was close to reaching the end of this experiment, I wanted to do something to celebrate, so a friend and I went dancing. It'd been a long week and it was wonderful to let loose. In between songs, I went to the bar to grab a drink and two girls sat to my left. I smiled at them, and the one closest to me commented on my hair. I didn't have any fight in me. I just sighed in reply.

I hoped nothing would follow that comment because a jam had just come on. I was wrong. She said:


My friend here is a hair stylist and really would like to touch your hair.

I don’t know what happened, but I let her touch it. I didn’t have the energy to say no. After touching it, she said, “Wow, it's a lot softer than I thought it was going to be. That's when I fired back: “What did you think it would feel like?! Your hair probably feels like straw with all the dyeing you’ve done to it."

I didn't wait for her to answer — I walked away. The friend I was with, who also happens to be white, reminded me that I didn't have to let her touch it. I know I didn't, still, I did. I was so upset with myself.

Day 13 And Day 14

That next morning, I cried in bed, fully aware of what happened the night before. The weight of paying attention to every offensive thing had finally taken its toll, and I was so happy to be finished.

Later in the day, a man made a comment to me about my skin, telling me how "jealous" he was of how it "handled the sun." I laughed and let him know he should be jealous, because there is no way I'd ever want skin that so easily burned when outside. He laughed and agreed: it did burn. His words burned, too.

Did This Experiment Change Anything?

Handling these micro-aggressions had become second nature to me — so much so that prior to this experience, I just brushed them off, ignored them, and acted as if they didn't bother me. But while doing this experiment, I really paid attention to what was said to me and how it made me feel. At its end, I was reminded of how deep words can cut.

On day one, I had this vague idea of what this experiment would look like. By day 14, it had turned into something else entirely. I was exhausted. People felt like it was their right to touch my hair — like it belonged to them or it was a "sight." Feeling like I was constantly on display stripped me of my right to feel like a person. It made me angry, and I hated that I was giving anyone cause to think I was playing into the Angry Black Woman trope.

But I didn’t feel better making comments back to the people who'd directed them at me. I don't think it's OK to speak to anyone in a way that's demeaning, no matter what their race is, and the fact that I was just doing what had been done to me hung heavy on my heart. If I'm honest, I think that I'll just go back to ignoring the things that people say and the way their words make me feel. It's how I know to protect myself.

Images Courtesy of Margaret Jacobsen/Instagram (12)




ByMargaret e Jacobsen
@margejacobsen

[mcfelix]

Whit girl checking in - so is it typical that people try to touch hair in the manner she describes? I never knew that was a thing. It's so intrusive and rude.

Semi related confession - when I was a kid, like 9 or 10, I was jealous of the black girls at school because
I thought the way they wore their hair was so cool and my hair wouldn't do that.

[meggers5]

The hair thing is insane.

Though I am jealous that h will not burn and I'm slathered up in spf and still manage to look like a tomato on occasion.

[Deleted]

The hair touching is so bizarre. Who are these people who think hair is anything but hair?

[mrsukyankee]

I can't imagine living with this every single day. I am sorry for any micro-aggressions I have committed (and I'm sure I have as I grew up in a predominantly white area and had no clue). I hope that I am more conscious of what I say and do around people.

[gibbinator]

I'm so amazed by the hair thing. Like, I cannot fathom just walking up to someone and touching them. Especially a stranger. And it sounds like, from this and other threads, that this is a really common thing.
It's just hair! 95% of people have it!

[lexus]

Dec 24, 2015 7:18:51 GMT -5 mockingbird said:

I think the time I liked people the least was when I was pregnant. Because suddenly random wierdos thought it was ok to touch my belly.

I can't imagine living life with random weirdos thinking it was ok to touch my freaking head.

That was the comparison I was making in my head! I don't know how this lady dealt with it so often.

[Deleted]

That dude at the door is an asshole of the highest order.

[dirtyred]

Dec 24, 2015 7:08:16 GMT -5 @silver said:

The hair touching is so bizarre. Who are these people who think hair is anything but hair?

Pasty white redhead checking in. People have been touching my hair my whole life. I have no clue why they think this is okay.

[One Girl In All The World]

Wow.

The hair thing really disturbs me. I know it's already been said several times upthread, but I cannot imagine constantly having to dodge or just deal with people trying to touch me like that. 

[cville]

I'm so surprised/not surprised at how often it was her friends (or friends of friends) who were the ones committing the offenses. You'd think people would check themselves around the people they purportedly care about. Ugh.

[NitaX]

Dec 24, 2015 0:08:13 GMT -5 mcfelix said:

Whit girl checking in - so is it typical that people try to touch hair in the manner she describes? I never knew that was a thing. It's so intrusive and rude.

Semi related confession - when I was a kid, like 9 or 10, I was jealous of the black girls at school because
I thought the way they wore their hair was so cool and my hair wouldn't do that.

Yes. I am natural and people do this to me damn near every day. And it's not just white people, black people do it to. I once had an older black lady ask me outside of a beauty supply store what products I used and then she reached her hand in my hair as if she were checking for weave tracks.

I have a friend who's white and adopted a biracial little girl. I can't tell you the number of times white folks just touch that girl's hair. My friend has taken to this approach and starts petting the person back.

You can comment on the awesomeness of my hair without touching it.

So in short, this is very real.

[redheadbaker]

I can't believe people have the audacity to touch another person without asking first. I'm so sorry people of color have to endure that. It's so rude.

[kirby]

When I read this, it makes me wonder how many times in my life I have hurt others with thoughtless comments.

[ijack]

When I was growing up I had a very close friend who was black and I want to hunt her down on social media and apologize just in case I ever touched her hair. I can't remember ever doing it (to her or anyone else) but I'm horrified by the thought that I might have
I can't imagine having to deal with random strangers coming up to you every.single.day to touch you. It's so disgusting.
Question for those of you who've gone natural - when people compliment your hair do you assume that it's a backhanded compliment? Like if I told you I loved how your hair looked that day do you think I'm thinking "I love how your hair looks even though it's natural"? I work with a woman who has gorgeous natural hair and I'm always afraid to compliment her because I'm worried she'll think I'm only doing it because it's natural and I think she's brave or some other loaded reason. Does that make sense?

[NitaX]

Dec 24, 2015 10:07:12 GMT -5 ijack said:

When I was growing up I had a very close friend who was black and I want to hunt her down on social media and apologize just in case I ever touched her hair. I can't remember ever doing it (to her or anyone else) but I'm horrified by the thought that I might have
I can't imagine having to deal with random strangers coming up to you every.single.day to touch you. It's so disgusting.
Question for those of you who've gone natural - when people compliment your hair do you assume that it's a backhanded compliment? Like if I told you I loved how your hair looked that day do you think I'm thinking "I love how your hair looks even though it's natural"? I work with a woman who has gorgeous natural hair and I'm always afraid to compliment her because I'm worried she'll think I'm only doing it because it's natural and I think she's brave or some other loaded reason. Does that make sense?

No, I don't mind the compliments at all. I do mind people saying, "I could never do it. My face is too fat ... My hair isn't like yours (because this is that 'good hair' mentality) or it looks good on you because everyone can't go natural." Those I tackle head on with black folks. Because it's really detrimental to your own self-esteem.

It's one thing to say - I can't be natural because I tried and my hair is too soft, fine, etc (1234FIF is in this boat). That's ok, but it's not ok to be self deprecating in the process.

And do I think being natural is brave - yes. I think it is a real statement for people who work in environments where everything is super professional. It takes courage not to submit to someone else's beauty ideal.

[ijack]

Dec 24, 2015 10:19:27 GMT -5 NitaX said:

Dec 24, 2015 10:07:12 GMT -5 ijack said:

When I was growing up I had a very close friend who was black and I want to hunt her down on social media and apologize just in case I ever touched her hair. I can't remember ever doing it (to her or anyone else) but I'm horrified by the thought that I might have
I can't imagine having to deal with random strangers coming up to you every.single.day to touch you. It's so disgusting.
Question for those of you who've gone natural - when people compliment your hair do you assume that it's a backhanded compliment? Like if I told you I loved how your hair looked that day do you think I'm thinking "I love how your hair looks even though it's natural"? I work with a woman who has gorgeous natural hair and I'm always afraid to compliment her because I'm worried she'll think I'm only doing it because it's natural and I think she's brave or some other loaded reason. Does that make sense?

No, I don't mind the compliments at all. I do mind people saying, "I could never do it. My face is too fat ... My hair isn't like yours (because this is that 'good hair' mentality) or it looks good on you because everyone can't go natural." Those I tackle head on with black folks. Because it's really detrimental to your own self-esteem.

It's one thing to say - I can't be natural because I tried and my hair is too soft, fine, etc (1234FIF is in this boat). That's ok, but it's not ok to be self deprecating in the process.

And do I think being natural is brave - yes. I think it is a real statement for people who work in environments where everything is super professional. It takes courage not to submit to someone else's beauty ideal.

Thank you! I'll be more forthcoming with my compliments now

[meshaliuknits]

I see I can defer to NitaX on the hair touching/compliments.

For me, the worst part about the hair touching is trying to keep people off my kids, particularly BabyLiu. She feels bad when people come up to her and squish her hair. It's the surest way to sap her confidence. Leave my baby alone!

[mrsukyankee]

I will say that I used to have people touch my hair all the time as a little kid. My hair has gotten thinner & finer in the years, but I had an afro when I was a kid.  I hated it because kids in middle school made fun of my hair because, as you can see all around me, girls had straight hair (even those with curls were either permed in or done with tools).  Here's me with less curly hair at my 8th grade graduation - I'm in the middle front of this picture (I did not have a perm):

[froggy76]

The hair touching thing is SO BIZARRE. I have a black coworker who changes her hair frequently and I always notice and compliment her. But I do that to anyone who changes their hair. Now I'm questioning everything I've ever said.

The photographer's comment especially was just so rude.

[ttt]

I wish I could have seen the look on the guy's face when she told him his bad dating experiences were all in his head and he shouldn't talk about his boring motorcycle!

[brookles]

I never got the hair-touching thing. What kind of person actually wants to touch another person's head? I've never been even mildly tempted to do so.

[meshaliuknits]

Dec 25, 2015 10:36:59 GMT -5 @246baje said:

The hair touching thing is real. I once had a female boss who said "your hair smells amazing and stuck her nose in it"

I got a hair compliment at work once from a new person & one of the women I work with told her "it smells good to. You should smell it." The look on the new lady's face, man. It was a thing to behold.

[whiskeyandwine]

Dec 24, 2015 11:22:02 GMT -5 meshaliuknits said:

I see I can defer to NitaX on the hair touching/compliments.

For me, the worst part about the hair touching is trying to keep people off my kids, particularly BabyLiu. She feels bad when people come up to her and squish her hair. It's the surest way to sap her confidence. Leave my baby alone!

Fuck. No.

Bad enough when it is an adult. A child?!

I read these articles and am reminded that the world is so full of assholes.

Depressing.

[closertofine]

I spent thanksgiving with a coworker this year. Her daughter who is my age is raising a little black girl as her own (we're white. It's a complicated arrangement). A family of four relatives arrived and literally everyone started petting her daughter and I lost count of how many comments they made. I thought it was really odd, but her mother didn't seem to mind, and I hardly know these people, so I stayed quiet. At one point, the mom and I were alone, and she said to me, "they're fucking driving me crazy. It's just gdamn hair. They do this every time they see her." I told her if she wanted it to stop, she would have to speak up on her daughter's behalf (she's only 3). And she did for the rest of the night. But they just wouldn't stop. It was the oddest thing ever.

[EnchantedSoul]

People attempt to touch my son's hair all.the.time. He very firmly says "no thank you!"
ETA deleted photo

[redshoejune]

EnchantedSoul
He's so cute!

My dad likes to talk about how when I was a kid I used to growl at people who tried to touch my hair in public and that it happened a lot (I am white). As I got older and my hair grew out it was less tempting so I can't remember it happening much.

I will admit to being curious about what other people's hair feels like but unless we were really close I would never even ask to touch it and I would certainly never just touch a stranger. Why are there people that think this is ok?

I would be curious to know what the micro aggressions might be, because the ones in the article seem so obvious.

[AJL]

Personal space, people! Respect everyone's personal space! I just don't get how hard this is to understand. I feel like this happens so much to black people more than to any other race (i.e. unsolicited hair touching) because somehow white America has been conditioned to regard black people, at least on a subconscious level, as simply objects to be admired or gawked at or fondled out of curiosity.

A friend of mine was back in town visiting (this was some years back.) She and I went out with some mutual friends. A couple of other people in our group were acquaintances and one of those people put her hands in my friend's hair. She wore it natural and this acquaintance was curious about it. My friend backed up startled and asked the the acquaintance not to touch her hair and that she didn't like to be touched with out her permission. The touchy acquaintance actually became offended and pissed off because my friend wouldn't let her put her hands in her hair. She started to get mouthy at one point and tried to play it off with some asinine comment to the tune of "I think you're hair is amazing! I just wanted to feel it. I wasn't trying to get all up in your space. You didn't have to be so rude." I'm pretty sure I turned on this acquaintance and said something like, "Well I think you have amazing tits, but I doubt you'd really like it if I had my hands all up in your shirt without asking." (I'm positive I had a lot to drink at that point. I give no fucks after a few cocktails.)

Later my friend was saying that it took her a long time to feel like she could speak up for her own bodily autonomy and that for so long she always felt that if a white person wanted something from her that she had to acquiesce in some way. She always felt a bit like property in that respect. I don't know what that feels like personally but I know it hurts her when people don't respect her space and her autonomy as a fellow human because she's black.

[tiramisu]

I can only imagine a very tiny piece of this which does help me empathize, but I realize I'm very lucky to not have dealt with these things.

When I was 9, we went to Italy. I remember one easier in particular stroking/petting my hair somewhat forcefully saying "oh, I love your hair." I also remember hiding under the table to keep him from touching my hair again. I cannot imagine dealing with this kind of thing on a regular basis. Fuck those people doing that. It's a great reminder to make sure I'm not one of those people, whether it's about hair, education, career, or anything else.

[iammalcolmx]

Dec 24, 2015 0:19:27 GMT -5 meggers5 said:

The hair thing is insane.

Though I am jealous that h will not burn and I'm slathered up in spf and still manage to look like a tomato on occasion.

How is this possible? I will burn like a mofo!