There’ll hardly be a reader in New Zealand who isn’t aware of a recent comment made by the Government Minister for the Prevention of Family and Sexual Violence. Soon after being struck, seemingly deliberately, by a motorbike following a protest over transgender rights in Auckland, Marama Davidson said: “I know who causes violence in the world. It is white cis men...”
It was a provocative statement - and it certainly got a strong reaction, mostly from white males as far as I could tell. Davidson happens to be Māori, which may have been what prompted many of her critics to dub her comment not only factually wrong, but racist too.
That got me thinking. My first thought was that if her comment was racist, I’m not too bothered. As a white cis male, I see no threat to me or my peers from a member of a minority group - even a senior politician - taking a shot at the privileged group I lucked my way into at birth.
Then I thought some more, an admittedly rare event. The question I asked myself is “was Davidson’s comment really racist?”
At first blush, you might say surely any sweeping and derogatory statement about a group based on race is, by definition, racist.
But let’s check. Merriam-Webster offers two definitions of racist:
Having, reflecting, or fostering the belief that race is a fundamental determinant of human traits and capacities and that racial differences produce an inherent superiority of a particular race.
Of, relating to, or characterized by the systemic oppression of a racial group to the social, economic, and political advantage of another.
I don’t think Davidson’s comment fits either of those definitions. For the first, she’d have needed to say (or imply) that white cis males are by nature more predisposed to violence than other racial groups. I think it’s safe to say she didn’t mean that.
As for the second definition, the word “systemic” makes it clear that racism can only be perpetrated by members of dominant groups.
I can hear the cries of “unfair!” from my fair-skinned peers. “If Davidson’s comment isn’t racist, what the hell is it?”, they might say. Some might even say, “I say it’s racist and to hell with what some dictionary thinks.”
But do you and I have the ability, Humpty Dumpty style, to make words mean what we want them to mean?
When I use a word,’ Humpty Dumpty said in rather a scornful tone, ‘it means just what I choose it to mean — neither more nor less.’
’The question is,’ said Alice, ‘whether you can make words mean so many different things.’
’The question is,’ said Humpty Dumpty, ‘which is to be master — that’s all.’
Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking-Glass
I’ve argued for as long as I’ve been writing on language that we can’t. Language works by agreement, and agreement requires groups, not individuals who each insist on their own definitions of words. That means that what you think, or what I think, doesn’t matter a damn. It’s what enough users think that counts. (I appreciate that raises the thorny question of what constitutes “enough”, and answering that question is one of the reasons dictionaries exist.)
OK then, is Merriam-Webster the final word on this matter? Maybe not. Oxford Dictionary offers this definition, where the use of the word “typically” provides some wiggle room for those who say anyone can be racist:
Characterized by or showing prejudice, discrimination, or antagonism against a person or people on the basis of their membership of a particular racial or ethnic group, typically one that is a minority or marginalized.
But what if dictionaries are not the best place to research a word whose meaning seems to evolve daily? US linguist John McWhorter makes that argument in this thoughtful piece, written in 2019 after then-President Donald Trump had invited four minority congresswomen, three of whom were born in the US, to return to their native countries in what was widely condemned as a racist putdown.
The word racist “carries baggage beyond its dictionary meaning,” says McWhorter. “To be a racist is considered not just a matter of bland categorization but of evil.”
Yes. And it’s a good reason to take care with how we use the word. Equally, however, it can be a misguided reason to automatically deny we ourselves are racist without seriously considering the possibility that we may be.
My take is that it’s inevitable that someone belonging to a dominant, majority group as I do will be racist. Maybe not consciously, but so what? (In fact, if it were conscious not only would that make you a racist, it would also make you an arsehole.)
When Taika Waititi said New Zealand is “racist as fuck”, he didn’t have to point at white supremacists as evidence. It was the everyday behaviour of well-intentioned but kind of dumb white people like me. To think I’m above dumbness in this area would be arrogant, even by my lofty standards.
My intention is not to disparage those who felt attacked or invalidated by Davidson’s comment, and nor is it to offer an opinion on its accuracy. (If I do have an opinion, it’s that her comment was clumsy.) But I am calling for my fellow white cis males - and anyone else who felt offended - to step back and consider the possibility, however activating it may be, that being racist is an attribute available only to those in privileged groups.
Davidson’s comment may have been wrong, ill advised, harsh, discriminatory and even inflammatory, but calling it racist is at the very least stretching the meaning of that word.
More importantly, it’s levelling a highly charged accusation at someone who, you can be certain, has spent much of her life on the receiving end of intentional as well as casual racism, and seeing it treated with indifference by people and organisations who could do something about it.
Sometimes - mostly - what matters with language isn’t definitions. It’s our willingness to listen not only to the words another says, but to the experience that’s being shared through those words.
In making her comment about white cis males, Davidson was providing an insight into what it’s like to be a member of a minority in New Zealand. Her anger and frustration were there for all to hear.
If you ask me, there’s infinitely more value in hearing that than there is in getting upset about the words she used.
Bits and specious
Further to the last-but-one Lingwistics, the shortest English word in which all six vowels – a, e, i, o, u and y – occur in alphabetical order is facetiously. How appropriate, you may say. Congratulations to reader Ian Howarth for getting the answer. If you resisted the temptation to look for the answer, take a bow for acting abstemiously.
Ian Howarth also writes: ‘Having read about the old English symbol for “th” that looked like a y, which is why people write “Ye Olde Shoppe”, I wonder if “hear ye” was actually said “hear thee”.’ The short answer, Ian, is no it wasn’t. You’re right about the ye in “Ye Olde Shoppe” and other mildly nauseating names being pronounced with a “th” sound. But the ye in “hear ye” was the nominative ye, as in “O, ye of little faith”) and was pronounced the way it looks like it should be.
That makes ye and ye homographs - words that are spelt the same but pronounced differently.
The four most widely spoken languages in the world are Mandarin Chinese, Spanish, English (yes, it’s only number 3) and Hindi. Can you guess what language is number 5? Answer next week.
There is only one word in English that has a silent j. Can you guess it? (Hint: It’s borrowed from another language.) Answer next week as well.
Quote of the week
I love mankind … it’s people I can’t stand!!
Linus, Peanuts