‘FOR BLACK FOLKS IN
In many ways covert racism is more damaging to
people of color because of how subtle and ambiguous
— and therefore more socially acceptable — it is. As an
African-American woman who was born and raised in
Eugene, I can tell you that people here perpetrate this type
of racism frequently. It’s something I deal with every day.
There are groups in Eugene actively combating this
undercover racism, such as the University of Oregon’s
Black Student Task Force, our local chapter of the
NAACP and the city’s Human Rights Commission. But
because covert racism is not as visible or detectable as
overt racism, it tends to get overlooked and discounted by
those who aren’t directly affected by it.
Those affected are mostly African-Americans, according
to Eugene’s 2015 “Hate and Bias Report.” Of the 25 race-
related hate crimes reported to the Eugene Police Department
in 2015, 20 were committed against African-American
community members. Since African-Americans make up a
mere 1.4 percent of Eugene’s total population, the smallest
minority population next to Native Americans and Pacific
Islanders, it’s clear there’s a serious disconnect here.
For a place that’s 85.8 percent white, according to
2010 census data, Eugene is a city that prides itself for
including everyone. Its many “Diversity” bumper stickers
and T-shirts love reminding you that you’re welcome
here, no matter the color of your skin. In EW’s latest Best
of Eugene issue from this past November, readers even
voted “Diversity” as the third-best thing about Eugene.
So why, then, do people of color experience a
drastically different reality?
NORTHERN
MICRO-AGGRESSION
Most people associate overt racism with Southern
states like Alabama, Texas and Louisiana, while Northern
states — specifically those in the Pacific Northwest —
are assumed to be largely free of Confederate-flag toting
“good ol’ boy” discrimination.
But for Candice King, a black graduate student at the
University of Oregon, this is a misconception.
King moved to Eugene this past June and is working on
a master’s degree in the UO’s Department of International
Studies. She calls Wichita, Kansas, home but has lived
and traveled all over the U.S., including Kentucky and
states in the Deep South.
King says racism functions differently in the South,
but this isn’t necessarily a bad thing.
“Kentucky, shit, either they like you or they don’t, and
they’re not afraid to tell you that,” King says. “I mean,
Kentucky’s not quite the South, but in other parts of the South
it’s the same way. You know who’s with you and who’s not.”
In Eugene, however, King says racism functions
“extremely covertly” and “passive aggressively.” She says
she’s always felt like she’s had to prove herself regardless
of where she’s lived, but here, it’s different.
“For instance, in Kentucky, it’s been because I’m new
in town and, if they don’t know you, you gotta prove
yourself,” King says. “In Kansas I felt I had to prove
myself because I was a woman.”
She adds: “But here, I feel like I have to prove that I know
anything. I have to prove that I’m not some stereotype. I think
it’s because of lack of proximity to a diverse array of people
of color which makes it hard for people here to adjust to the
idea that people of color aren’t just one kind of people.”
Diamante Jamison, a 25-year-old black man, agrees.
He says being in Eugene was “basically like living in
Whoville.”
“You can come to Eugene and people look at you like
they’ve never seen a black person before,” he says.
Jamison is a recent UO graduate and a founding
member of the UO Black Student Task Force — the group
that brought forth a list of a dozen demands to university
administration in an attempt to improve black student life.
Notably this included the recommendation of renaming
racist-associated campus buildings Dunn and Deady.
Dunn Hall, a dorm named after UO Latin professor and
KKK leader Frederick Dunn, was denamed. Deady Hall,
named after UO founder Matthew Deady, kept its name
after the school decided his earlier racism was balanced by
his later support of the 14th and 15th amendments to the
Constitution, which extended civil and legal protections
to former slaves.
Jamison grew up in Richmond, Virginia, and agrees
that the South gets an unfairly bad rap from the North.
“I think Eugene, and the Pacific Northwest, has a very
interesting perception of their progressiveness towards
race,” Jamison says. “The South is actually way more
progressive in terms of race, because they’re honest.”
While people may be outwardly racist in Southern
states, Jamison says, at least the racist individuals
themselves are the obvious ones to blame. In Eugene and
the Pacific Northwest, covert forms of racism tend to dig
deeper and can affect marginalized groups, mentally and
emotionally.
“They do this thing where they act like they don’t
know what they’re doing is wrong,” Jamison says. “So as
a person receiving that racism, you internalize it and think
it’s you that’s wrong.”
Societal institutions like colleges are havens of covert
racism — especially in an environment like the UO’s,
which just this past fall term had only 493 African-
American students out of its total 23,634 students.
There is often a belief that access to education is
supposed to make people more open-minded and less
likely to act out racist tendencies. In the same vein, there’s
also the belief that newer generations are more liberal
and accepting than older ones, and that Millennials are
supposed to be especially tolerant.
Therefore, college campuses should be sanctuaries for
underrepresented groups, but that doesn’t always bear out
in reality.
A 2015 report from PBS Newshour states that young
white people agree with racist ideologies at similar rates
to older generations. For example, “the youngest whites
(17-34) are only modestly less likely than the oldest
(65+) to say that blacks are lazy (3.6 point difference) or
unintelligent (1.5 point difference).”
Jamison, King and I can attest that racism on campus
tends to manifest itself in less obvious, in-your-face
events and more chronic, subtle interactions. For me, this
happens near daily in continuous stares when walking to
class — and I mean the kind of awkward stares where you
make eye contact with the person in a questioning way
and they still continue to stare, unabashedly.
A 2015 study from the Harvard University Voices
of Diversity project found that even though the ethnic
diversity of college campuses has increased statistically,
students of color still face continuous discrimination and
prejudice. The study states that discrimination on campuses
usually shows itself through subtleties called micro-
aggressions that create “unwelcoming environments and
can be detrimental to academic performance.”
Micro-aggressions are usually well meaning but ignorant
phrases that unintentionally bring negative and harmful
connotations to one’s marginalized group — sort of like a
backhanded compliment towards one’s identity. Regular
ones I got growing up here were: “You’re not like a real
black person; you seem so white; you’re like an Oreo!” and
“Your hair looks so much better when it’s straightened.”
From my own experience, although such comments
may seem harmless, they build up over time, and the accu-
mulation of indirect jabs starts to take a toll on your psyche;
it’s hard not to accept them as actual compliments since
they’re coming from your close friends and acquaintances.
Jamison says this form of racism was a major
experience of his time in Eugene as well. As a black
student, such continuing interactions were so frequent to
him that, after a while, they all started to blend together.
“I think in order to survive in that environment, I had
to numb myself to it, so I lost count,” Jamison says.
EUGENE WHO AREN’T
RELIGIOUS, THERE’S
NO SOLIDARITY
NETWORK AND I FEEL
L I K E T H AT S O R T O F
DEPRESSES A LOT
OF OUR BLACKNESS.
I WA N T T O H AV E
A COMMUNITY
CONNECTION WITH
OTHER BLACK FOLKS,
B U T I D O N ’ T WA N T
T O H AV E T O G O T O
C H U R C H T O G E T I T. ’
— CANDICE KING
eugeneweekly.com • February 2, 2017
13