Critical Race Theory

What I Can Teach You About Racism
Carol Swain

Let me tell you how my story ends: I become a tenured, award-winning professor of political science at an Ivy League university, and then at one of the leading universities in the South.

Now let me tell you how my story begins: I grow up in rural Virginia, literally dirt poor. I drop out of school in the eighth grade and have three children by the time I’m 20.

I consider myself to be a reasonably modest person, but even I have to admit that’s quite a journey. How did I do it? I worked hard. Not crazy, 24/7 hard—just hard. I made good decisions. Not brilliant, three-dimensional-chess decisions—just good ones. I met people along the way who helped me and sincerely wanted to see me succeed—not because they had something to gain, but because they were decent people. Almost all of these individuals, by the way, were white.

But  mostly,  I  think  I  was  blessed  in  one  crucial  way:  I  was  born  in  America,  a  true  land  of  opportunity for anyone of any color or background. In this country, where you start your life does not determine where you end up.

That works in both directions, by the way. You can start out with every advantage and waste them all. Or you can start out with nothing and become a success. It all depends on you. Your attitude is far more important than your race, gender, or social class in determining what you will accomplish in life.

When I hear young blacks—or anyone, for that matter—talk about systemic racism, I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. I want to laugh because it’s such nonsense. I want to cry because I know it’s pushing untold numbers of young blacks into a dead end of self-pity and despair. Instead  of  seizing  the  amazing  opportunities  America  offers  them,  they  seize  an  excuse  to  explain why they’re not succeeding.

I was born into a world where systemic racism was real—no-fooling, outright-bigotry, back-of-the-bus real. But here’s what you need to know: Yes, that racism shaped the black experience—but even then, it did not define it. Change was in the air. Call it systemic reform.

The modern Civil Rights Movement was in its infancy, and the leaders who fought for equal rights for blacks were men and women of all races. They believed in America and were determined to see it live up to its highest ideals—ideals manifest in the Declaration of Independence and the US Constitution.

Did I know, growing up, that George Washington and Thomas Jefferson owned slaves? I don’t think I ever thought about it. If I did, I’d like to think that I would have had enough common sense to know that we can’t judge men who lived 250 years ago by the moral standards of our own day.

But  I  know  that  Jefferson  wrote  the  words  in  the  Declaration  of  Independence  that  made  slavery  ultimately  impossible:  that  all  men  are  created  equal.  And  I  know  that  Washington,  Hamilton, Franklin, Adams and the rest of the Founders risked everything to make my world, my  America,  possible.  How  could  I  not  be  grateful  for  that  and  for  the  sacrifices  so  many  others have made to preserve it?

The truth is I cannot remember a time when I did not love America and feel pride in the belief that I live in the greatest country in the world. I knew if I diligently pursued my ambitions, I could leave the poverty of my early years, with all its abuse and depression, behind me.

I  was  fortunate  in  another  way.  I  was  spared  the  life-sapping,  negative  messages  about  America that are crippling a generation of young people. 

These ideas are poison:

• White   privilege  
• Whiteness   as   a .  form   of   property.  
• Unconscious   racism.  
• Reparations.  
• Microaggressions.
• Police have it out for blacks.
• That the United States was created to protect and promote slavery.

These are the ideas young people are told they must accept. And then they’re told to reject the ideas that can save them—the antidote: the success principles that enabled me and millions of other Americans to escape lives of poverty.

These  principles  aren’t  complicated:  work  hard,  learn  from  your  mistakes,  take  personal  responsibility for your actions. When I made the decisions to get my high school equivalency, attend a community college, and then earn four additional college and university degrees, I believed that my education would open doors. And it did.

It was only when exposed to academic theories of oppression in graduate school that I was informed  that  because  I  was  black,  poor,  and  female,  I  could  never  do  what  I  had  already  accomplished.

Thank God, it was too late for these toxic messages to stop me. Don’t let them stop you.

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I’m Carol Swain, host of Be the People Podcast and retired professor of political science and law at Vanderbilt University, for Prager University.    Link