Why do white people criticize one another for being white?

Granted, it seems that in Jamaica that I get guff for being "so white" all the time. E.g. this Rasta dude who's known as Manifest told me "It looks like you'd rather call me by my Christian name--so feel free to call me Christopher." He also laughs and has commented about my at my oh-so white was of waving goodbye as opposed to punching fists. When you're summoned by "hey white girl" or "hey whitey" at least once a day or so, you sorta start to get used to the fact that everything you do will be catagorized as "white."

Class, however, is THE issue here.

I think the question is racist. Not in a nasty way, but because it unfairly groups together a whole load of dissimilar people based on the colour of their skin.

I think the 'white people' you're talking about are really only a certain age range of white male Americans.

I suppose technically I'm white, but really Nabisco I think you have more in common with the 'white people' you're talking about than I do.

I can think, off the top of my head, of two recent posts by white, female IL* members that contradict this statement.

A real answer to N.'s topic question would require an essay, if not a book, but here are my thoughts on one facet of the topic -- and let me emphasize the "one facet" in that, as I think there's a whole lot to this issue:

We live in a culture in which, over the last 100-150 years, there has been -- at least in mainstream media discourse -- a significant shift away from what might be called "community-oriented" values. Like most things in history, it could be argued that this shift both represents a reaction against a genuinely problematic status quo, and constitutes an overreaction to it (who was it that said, quite astutely, that every new development in philosophy tends to be an overcompensation for the previous one?). The fallout from this is extensive and far beyond my scope or ability to describe, but some aspects are obvious (greater respect for personal liberties, for instance, or a tendency towards the atomization of human relationships), some less so (anti-intellectualism, materialism, the alienation of most Westerners from their cultural history in the belief that it "all leads to Auschwitz").

In any event, such an environment tends to afford maximal prestige to those who take on -- or, and this is key, are perceived as taking on -- the role of the "badass". I don't really have time to go into the details of this figure, but here's an effective synopsis: "The badass is someone who cultivates an image of being supremely wicked, mean and violent [and] seeks to use violence (and related patterns) in a quintessentially irrational fashion...Yet the badass does have a deeper purpose: He gains considerable power over other people by getting them to perceive him as irrationally violent. A badass is recognized as capable of turning wildly, senselessly violent for no apparent or predictable reason, and so everyone else has to be extra careful around him." (That's from a book by Roy Baumeister.)

I trust I don't need to laboriously lay out the argument I'm making here: that mainstream media culture consistently chooses to propagate images of the badass, that it strongly implies that such men (and they are just about always portrayed as male) are to be feared and respected (i.e. are powerful), and that it strongly suggests that most badasses come from economic or racial crucibles that form them into hardened, dangerous men. This lens, as it were, has been one through which men of many ethnicities and cultures have been depicted -- the Irish and the Italians come to mind -- and it is, obviously, a lens frequently chosen, by a wide range of sources (anyone from hiphop MCs to the nightly news), through which to depict the lives of young, black men. (I assume I don't need to talk about how toxic and damaging this is.)

To most people, the badass is both deeply frightening and oddly fascinating, and when you combine that with the prejudice already felt by many about Africans and African-Americans, you get an image that to many people is quite potent, for it simultaneously represents the feared Evil Other and a vicarious outlet for the destructive impulses of one's "negative self". When people are confronted with someone (or images of many, archetypal someones) that powerful and pervasive, there are a few typical reactions: hatred, chronic anxiety (or, more optimistically, the insight that the image is a fabricated archetype, which empowers one to begin to cast it aside). But there's always going to be a significant portion of those people who choose to identify with the aggressor, in part because that eases their anxiety and permits them the belief that they will be somehow spared. (The corollary to this is, naturally, to devalue the victims of the aggressor; by rationalizing their fate, and ascribing it to some flaw or failure on their parts, a person convinces himself or herself that he/she is "not like them", and is, in fact, superior.)

This behavior manifests itself with far greater specificity when you're dealing with the dynamic between individuals (and if you doubt that, or any of this, try working in an office with a powerful, dysfunctional boss, someone who punishes indiscriminately and irrationally, and you'll see these behaviors in action). But when you're dealing with individuals for whom the anxiety-provoking figure is a nonspecific archetype, then -- since it's obviously impossible to specifically negotiate with someone who isn't present -- the negotiation happens in generalities: people from outside the milieu of the figure begin to identify with it, and despite the fact that they come from a totally different culture (or race, or socioeconomic background), begin to adopt the mannerisms and behavior of the archetype, or at least their own mythologized version of it. And naturally, they're inclined to devalue their own antecedents, in part as a way of hiding them, in part because they've adopted a value-system of power and aggression in which those, often community- and childhood-oriented, antecedents are considered valueless or worse.

The figure of the badass has piggybacked onto Italian culture with some success, and a bit with the Irish though not nearly as successfully (in the States at least). But the nearly unprecedented, worldwide, multi-wave explosion of African-American culture (especially music) has, I think, been a major force behind the massive propagation of this stereotyping of young black men. Certainly, it's been something that many black artists have been more than willing to exploit -- it's all over early blues -- and, in turn, artists from other cultures have been more than willing to co-opt it for themselves. But in any event, the dominance of black musical culture in the latter part of the 20th Century, and in the 21st so far, has meant (obviously in conjunction with racism and race relations, media sensationalism) that the dominant image of the badass has been African-American, and that the badass (whether African-American or not) has been celebrated (while at the same time feared) to an extent seldom, if ever, seen in any culture before.

And rather than drag this argument to the conclusion that I assume should be obvious by now -- or take the time to stitch in any of the other threads that need to be in here, like the fetishization of the Other and so forth -- I'll instead recount a conversation between three jazz students that a friend of mine overheard a couple years ago -- or what I can reconstruct of it (thirdhand!), anyway:

1) White male: ...and yeah, but I was like, that shit was so white, you know?
2) White male #2: Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean --
3) Black male (slightly older): No, no, don't say that, don't say that.
1) and 2) What?
3) Man, I wish you hadn't said that.
1) What?
3) About being "white". When you say that, it makes me think, you know...well, to be honest, it makes me think that, when you look at me, you see a "black man", rather than me, as a person. I mean, I know what you meant, I'm not angry or anything...
1) or 2) Oh, listen, I'm sorry --
3) No, no, just, you know, have some respect. Not just for me, but for yourselves. I mean, you're white, and I'm black, and we're going to stay that way, right? But so what? I'm not embarrassed by my color, so why should you be, or talk about it like it's something bad? What matters is what you have to say, as a musician and as a person.

Nabisco I therefore conclude that you've successfully manufactured a very stupid strawman.

You will have a hard time convincing me that there's not at least a strong undercurrent of white vs. black in a statement like this, referring to "pasty losers" vs. "survivors" (as though there aren't SHITLOADS of black foax who, like, live in their parents' basement until they're 29, making bad beats!).

To me Indie vs Hip Hop is pasty losers who spend too much time on line vs survivors who know what the real world is. Guess who I'll take.

-- That Girl (d**********@yahoo.com), March 27th, 2003 1:43 AM. (thatgirl)

How often does this happen outside of music? I think the generally accepted idea that black music is more innovative and exciting then white music has a something to do with it.

Who cares? Why do black people talk back to the screen at movies?

In other words "white" is a fine term becuz it means something real and pretending it doesn't is like pretending that "black" means nothing and racism vanished with the civil rights movement.

It's not being white so much as *acting* in a "white" way which of course is something determined by context etc. Blackpeopleloveus.com to thread.

Also That Girl's comment makes plenty of sense when you consider that hip-hop songs are *about* surving and indie songs are *about* being losers v. often -- so which do you want to identify more with? On the other hand compare/contrast another typically "black" genre like classic jazz and fewer people will say its about "surviving" and then you can be like jazz v. buttrock fite and get an answer like "one is cerebral wanking and the other is about having a good time -- hmm which do i pick?"

How many media references to 50 Cent are about his record as opposed to his life and history and sales and pronouncements? The ratio is poor, which really means that everyone is reviewing, basically, his "blackness." Which is exactly what he's trading in...as is Eminem, really, too--8 Mile is an entire treatise on Rabbit's/Eminem's black-credentials, and the reason he's the coolest guy in America has at least something to do with the fact that he is a successful Euro-American in a field that is dominated by African-Americans (cue Presley, G.Michael's solo career, the Dallas Mavericks)--and what we are buying, too.

But we want to be 'better' than that, less sucked-in, more objective, harder-edged than the other suckers out there--so we want to question the critical status quo that will intensely question/analyze/mention most of the tracks on the Malkmus record, but basically ignore Killer Mike's and Lil Kim's and Bryan McKnight's music in favor of recounting their history or their famous friends or their fashion sense. So we throw around terms like 'white' with impunity because it's "not supposed to be done". Isn't that something like that?

Cynical, clear-eyed Neudonym asks: Don't we do it because we kind of like to be assholes?

And I'm sure somebody's going to say 'yeah well not all big bands were black, look at Ellington he was successful yada yada' but I think it's pretty much undeniable that a lot of black music in the 20th century was introduced to a wider audience in a form that was often quite distanced from the idiom it was supposed to represent.

As for why we still do it, I'm going to go with force of habit.

I am white, but not the 'white' of the thread title.

I never think of myself as white though, or black, or any other colour.

I don't think I'm particularly similar to all the other people who have approximately the same skin colour as me.

I'd prefer to align myself with, say, all the other music lovers, or all those people who prefer cats to dogs. At least those groupings would tell you something about the way I think/feel/behave/value.

Some may look at me and think, "Ok, she's obviously got some street cred to her. She could blend in with a hip-hop and R&B loving crowd and wouldn't look totally out of place at a rap show." But you know what? I would feel utterly and completely lost in those sorts of places. I have no inner street cred to speak of. The homeys in the ghetto wouldn't exactly be down with me listening to Scritti Politti. I'm so out of this particular circle that I don't even know if that last sentence makes me sound like an even "whiter" person. I am essentially the Steve Martin character in the movie Bringing Down the House.

Point being, it could very well be possible to consider oneself unhip and totally not down with "it" (whatever "it" is) no matter what one's outward appearances may be. So if you have porcelain white skin and fine facial features, don't think that automatically makes you unhip or not "clued in" to the ways of the street, because I know for damn sure my OWN olive skin and big lips and Roman nose could not even BEGIN to give me an instant ticket to the World of the Ethnic Cool.

I get told I´m a fake Puertorican all the time, just ´cuz I´m white.

I used to be really self-hating white about jazz actually. I think it was probably because the arts high school I went to was like 90% black. So I was really self-conscious about "not playing white" until one day I came up with a theory (that I still think might be true) that a lot of white jazz players who suck actually suck precisely because they try to play "black," i.e. a really reductionist and pretty racist idea of what jazz is, instead of doing what the best black AND white jazz musicians do, which is just hone the shit out of your musicianship, focus really hard on your accents and the nuances of your phrasing, etc.

yeah, work your ass off. that's the best way to go about anything. keep your head down and do your thing.

anyway, Jim Hall:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b0mGuRM8tBw&feature=related

i really like jim hall. but sometimes all you really need is:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MOm17yw__6U

i like what tal and barney did in the 50's. with groups. i don't listen to solo jazz guitar much at all. if i listen to a guitar album it would be wes or kenny burrell or some funky 70's shit.

I'm trying to find you a clip of this Kenny Burrell tune called Three Thousand Miles Back Home -- sample bait from the 70s that was also a random thing I had early on. Record is called Stormy Monday Blues iirc.

Meanwhile, I don't like solo jazz guitar either, but
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHE6FSeWuLQ

Which led me to this, wow
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mZDSLQsOmNY&feature=related

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yt61GcUl3J0

nice recovery

and my pal elliot levin.

There was a time when I used to see him playing at practically every gig I went to.