'White Girl?': Dialogue on racial identity continues

Ever since Washington Post reporter Lonnae O'Neal Parker's story headlined "White Girl?" appeared last fall in The Seattle Times, the conversation it ignited about race has grown.

Join the conversation To join our dialogue about race, e-mail us or write White Girl?, c/o Scene, The Seattle Times, P.O. Box 1845, Seattle, WA 98111. Let's keep the conversation going.

And as we promised you that day, the conversation continues. This time, it is in the form of excerpts from frank and sometimes painful e-mail exhanges she's had with Seattle Times reader Peggy Sakagawa of Kirkland.

The two began writing after Sakagawa was angered by O'Neal Parker's original story, believing that O'Neal Parker was implying that white people owed her and all blacks an apology, if not reparations. Implying? Hardly. She was insisting on it, and in a vernacular steeped in a righteous anger of its own.

O"Neal Parker, a light-skinned African American, also then 32, wrote about the racial identity of her young mixed-race cousin who had come to take care of her children. The first paragraph:

"I have a 20-year-old white girl living in my basement. She happens to be my first cousin. I happen to be black."

As Scene continued its coverage, ABC's "Nightline" picked up on the conversation and aired a May episode on O'Neal Parker, her cousin and Seattle Times readers, including Sakagawa.

Recently The Washington Post printed excerpts of the e-mail exchange, just after Sakagawa and O'Neal Parker met in Washington for the first time.

Here's some of what they've been saying to each other.

Feb. 21

Dear Lonnae,

I don't know where to begin, but I am hoping to open some personal dialogue with you. Your original piece struck me as angry and accusing, not open to debate. Once I learned that the request to continue the dialogue was as much yours as The Seattle Times', that gave me hope. I very much respect you for exposing yourself to scrutiny and allowing yourself to be so vulnerable. . . . The thought that came to mind was, "I'd love to have her over for tea and some one-to-one talk." . . . If people were to judge us by your article and my letter, then probably no one but Jerry Springer would want to have us in the same room.

But a closer look shows some similarities. Obviously, we're both outspoken. I'm known for saying things others only think and it's gotten me into trouble before. We're both apprehensive about doing the "Nightline" segment. We both have children we want to protect from hate and hurt. . . . So what do you say? Would you like to "have tea" via letters and e-mail?

Sincerely,
Peggy Sakagawa

Feb. 22

Peggy,

Thank you for writing me. Ease those butterflies. I respect your willingness to step outside your comfort zone and go on the record. I would be honored to begin a dialogue with you. If you have questions, please ask. I promise, my answers won't dance. . . .

Peace and blessings,
Lonnae

Feb. 25

Lonnae,

Thanks for responding so warmly. . . . When I saw your picture, I did not take you for black because your skin is light and, of course, the "good hair." So, I guess what you're saying is you don't consider yourself or your children to be interracial?

One question from the article I have is in regard to the part when you took your daughter to see her great-grandmother who looked her over for "good color" and "good hair." You said something to the effect of being in an awkward position, not being able to say anything and smiling weakly to just end it. . . .

I understand respect for your elders, but even in the face of something wrong? I have family members who have bigoted opinions and that's their problem, but I have two rules: not in my house; not around my daughter. I can walk away from it or argue against it; she cannot.

Anyhow, I guess this is a start. I laughed when you thanked me for having the courage to open my mouth. For 33 years, people have been telling me just the opposite! . . .

Warm regards,
Peggy

March 2

Hello,

OK, this is going to be fun. And, potentially deeper than I thought. That's a good thing, I think. Although difficult. . . .

Re: considering myself black. I do. Period. Even though I, like just about every black person I know, is mixed with something. . . . The legacy of slavery and the plantations gave us mulattoes, octaroons, quadroons - people who looked (light-complected), like one entire side of my family . . . were considered black so as to preserve the ability to rape (them) without disturbing the underlying property relations.

Think about it, if mixed or light children could be considered white, or something other than black, valuable sources of labor would be lost. That could not be allowed just because the master was feeling randy. . . .

My mother is frequently mistaken for white or Spanish or Native American. Yet, that did not stop her from being kicked out of a diner in her hometown when she was a schoolgirl. Even if she wanted to embrace other sides of her heritage, the world insisted otherwise. To save her psyche, to order her world, she considered herself black. . . .

Re: not speaking up to my grandmother. That's an interesting point. I could say it was 1994 and I had not yet developed the voice or the argument or the ability to speak up that I now have, but that would only be part of the reason. The other part is a dirty little secret. It is something you may not be aware of, but is a fact rooted in black culture. In many ways, we have internalized hundreds of years of being called big-lipped, big-nosed, nappy-headed, coon, spear-chucker, monkey. . . .

We have internalized to such a degree that many black folks think that to be black is to be ugly by definition. We ourselves often put a premium on light skin and good hair. . . . And so I suppose when my grandmother said that my child had good color and halfway good hair . . . I was grateful that my grandmother didn't think my 6-month-old daughter was ugly. She had passed muster, even if we all know the muster was corrupt. And I was relieved. . . .

My first job will be to teach my daughter that she is beautiful and valuable and worthwhile even as I understand there will be no shortage of messages that you as a white person may never pick up on, that will begin to make her feel less than. I will try to stock her bank for the inevitable withdrawals that the world will make.

It is not, as you suggest, a lesson of embracing victimization. Is the mother who tells her daughter that it is dangerous to walk through a dark parking lot at night trying to make a victim out of her child? No. It is merely a concession to the world in which we live. This world has delivered some sort of sucker punch to every single black person I have ever known, that I have ever loved. . . .

Remember the white guy in Boston who shot and killed his pregnant wife and said a black man did it? Did you know the police were close to making an arrest before the guy jumped off a bridge and the truth came out? Do you remember when Susan Smith said a black guy had abducted the two children she drowned?

My grandfather died of insulin shock in a segregated Memphis jail cell where he was thrown because officers thought he was drunk. If he had been white, we believe the officers still might have thought he was drunk, or they might have thought perhaps he was sick. . . . Denying racism and piling on platitudes and feel-good messages is not the same as racism not being there. . . .

I continue to believe we can come out the other side of the race place. I also know it will be a painful journey. That means neither of us is allowed to cut and run the first time we hear something that makes us uncomfortable. That's the only way we get through to this other side - a place where a fuller humanity awaits us all - inch by inch.

Peace and blessings,
Lonnae

March 3

Dear Lonnae,

. . . I must tell you how much I admire what you're doing. Not everyone likes having the mirror held up to their face. . . . Your grandfather's story saddened me. No, those guards surely wouldn't have known any better, but yes, perhaps he would have had a chance had he been white.

. . . Re: Messages. I was watching Oprah (2/29). She said essentially that if she had listened to or believed any of the negative things she was told while growing up in the Deep South in 1954 about being colored (her word) . . . she'd never be where she is today. Instead, she chose to follow her heart and believe in herself and her ambition. Isn't that the best way to combat discrimination? Prove it wrong?

We've all gotten messages, Lonnae. If we're not less-than-par because of skin color, then it's religion or weight or height, bust size, hair color, handicap, job, income, etc. . . . Why do you listen to the messages? Why do you let your feelings, your being, be dependent on external messages, opinions and beliefs? . . . If you continue to listen and internalize those messages, then racism (and discrimination) triumphs. . . .

Look at how far we've come since slavery and segregation. Yes, there are still minds on both sides of the DMZ that need to be changed; many won't in this lifetime, but each generation has seen growth. Doesn't it warm your heart to see children of all colors playing together? What about a black teen holding hands with a white teen? Maybe the process is slower than both of us would like to see, but at least it's happening. Yes, there will be setbacks, but I think love is winning and I believe it will prevail.

Peace and blessings to you.
Peggy

March 9

Peggy,

. . . I do believe you combat discrimination by proving it wrong, but that is a game of inches. And guess what? Much of the time I do not want to have the burden of having to prove my humanity. . . . We navigate our world the best way we can, asking ourselves the same existential questions white folks do, but we are forced to do it 500 feet below sea level. It is a constant pressure you do not have to walk around with.

Of course, we've all gotten messages, weight or height or bust size or income or handicap. And in addition to all those messages, black people have also gotten the message that we are - what did the Founding Fathers call us? - ah yes, three-fifths of a human being.

Read the Dred Scott decision or the Fugitive Slave Act, or the charter of the University of Texas, which just started letting black folks through its doors (a generation) ago and now is saying that is plenty time enough for us to have developed the brain trust and network of people and ideas and contacts it took whites a couple of hundred years to acquire. It is more complicated than tuning out the messages that make up this country's fundamental assumptions . . .

It's not like the black folks are putting their lives on hold to wait for parity or reparation or the cosmic balance of the universe to tilt. We are steering our lives, raising our children and, occasionally, raising our voices. We do not think most white folks set out to deny, or discriminate. . . . It doesn't matter if the racism is intentional or not. . . . The net effect is the same. . . . Income disparity, housing, job, education disparities, infant mortality, disparities in health-care delivery and incarceration rates. . . . I don't understand whites whose default reaction is to deny that race plays any part in anything. . . .

I got a little weepy when you wrote about people loving each other and being kind. I can coast for days on the smiles of the grocery checkers and women at the gas station and the helpful sales lady at Nordstrom. . . . I am always looking for the commonality, the things that bring us together. I simply do not ignore or turn away from the things that do not. . . .

You must not expect that a dialogue about race will not be angry, because black people are angry. And whites are, too. But if you stay, if you lower your defenses, we all may achieve a better, fuller humanity. My ancestors require an accounting for the atrocities against them. They require that I do not lessen or make light of our history simply because now people find it more convenient to forget. They require full disclosure, full acknowledgment, full atonement. Then, after all that, they require that we, the descendants of slaves, forgive and move forward, together.

Peace and blessings,
Lonnae

May 10

The "Nightline" comments of Peggy Sakagawa:

As a woman, I'm tired of the race issue. As a white woman, I am tired of being blamed for slavery because - and only because - I am white, when the fact of the matter is I am descended from Irish and German immigrants who didn't arrive on Ellis Island until well after the Civil War. They were so poor they were lucky to own the shirts on their backs, let alone slaves.

. . . Katie Couric angered you for not expanding on the fact that her ancestors owned slaves and for failing to offer any apologies. That was three generations ago, yet descendants of slaves continue to demand apologies from descendants of whites. I do not excuse slavery, Jim Crow laws or racism. The hate crimes that continue to plague this country are terrifying, and we need stronger penalties and zero tolerance to fight them.

However, as a race, you want us to continue apologizing and keep us in a perpetual state of guilt, shame and owing. Well, I have my own burden of transgressions, and I refuse to carry the guilt and shame of others, especially those who have gone before me.

If a family member of yours were to murder a family member of mine, I would not expect my descendants to hold it against your descendants, nor would I hold you and the rest of your innocent family accountable.

. . . You stated, "Every day, the world lets me know I'm black," an expression of the daily injustices you experience. I wonder if maybe that's what you see because that's what you're looking for; that's what you expect. You weren't waited on in a store? It's happened to me countless times, with and without my (Japanese) husband present; we both view it as poor service.

It's time to let go of the hate; stop expecting racism; stop trying to color-code, label and separate. . . .

May 25

Hi there,

I thought you did well on "Nightline." You looked lovely and you represented your view perfectly. I have to say, though, I was very angry, and perhaps a little hurt. . . . I think the hurt came in light of all the time we had invested in talking. All the things I thought we had shared.

It's interesting. Many white folks have disagreed with me, but a lot have also called and said complimentary things about gaining a new perspective on race. I'm curious, have any black folks come up to you and said: "That was dead-on, Peggy. We're imagining racism." . . . You devalue an entire race of people to suggest that we are not lucid enough to separate fantasy from reality. You devalue my husband, my children. Me. It is the ultimate pat on the head. . . . Pat, pat, pat. Good nigger. Of course, you don't ever have to call me that. Just treat me like one and I'll get the point. . . .

What if one of my ancestors killed one of your ancestors and prospered, profited, grew very rich from the murder and was able to buy the best education, and travel and network in the best circles - each generation inheriting and building on that wealth. What if, on the other hand, your ancestor's family faltered. And every time they, or their descendants, did try to get just the smallest bit ahead, my ancestor and his descendants were there with a boot on their necks, or a noose around it, just to make sure they could never fully get up. What if my ancestor killed your ancestor, moved into his home and grew rich. What if I still lived there today while you lived in the shack next door. . . . I just might feel inclined to say, "That's really too bad about the way things happened."

I'll be here if you'd like to meet when you come to Washington.

Peace and blessings,
Lonnae

May 31

Lonnae,

I'm still stinging from your hearty serving of whup-ass. You're acting like I stabbed you in the back, as if I said all those things (in the interview) in that tone after "all the things (you) thought we shared."

May I remind you I was interviewed before I reached out to you for a dialogue. . . . When I did that interview, I wasn't talking to the Lonnae I've been getting to know these past few months. I was talking to the Lonnae who angered me by pointing her finger at me and blaming me for racism and slavery because I'm white. The Lonnae who, given an opportunity, would tell my daughter to choose between being Japanese and being white and it'd better be Japanese because being white is almost akin to being evil.

You're angry? Well, so am I. Remember, you were the one who . . . said we had to lower our defenses. I did; it seems you did not. . . .

I never said racism doesn't exist or that it's all in your head. I questioned your statement, "Every day I'm reminded that I am black." To me, that said you're experiencing racism all day, every day. . . . I've met lots of minorities (and women) who take the position that everything bad that happens to them is because they are a minority (or a woman). For instance, my husband worked with a black man who . . . no matter what, his troubles were all because he was black. One day they went to lunch together. Apparently the service was poor, but not any worse than what the other patrons were getting. Suddenly this man remarked, "Oh, we're getting bad service because I'm black."

My husband said, "Well, how do you know it's not because I'm Japanese?" He still didn't get it.

I just wonder, Lonnae, that if what you expect is biased treatment, would your eyes be open to anything else? . . . You seem to see the negative; I try to see the positive. To me, the glass is half full; to you, it's all moot because a white girl is holding the glass.

So you can just can your "ultimate pat on the head" comments. . . . You were pretty emphatic in the interview, commanding, "Listen to my stories."

Are you honestly, equally interested in hearing mine or those of anyone who isn't black? I'm coming to D.C. (this summer). Ball's in your court.

Peggy

May 31

I'm sorry you're feeling badly. We have a ways to go, I think. . . . I'm sorry that you felt I attacked you personally. That was not my intent. Just as you said on "Nightline" that you took some of the things I said personally, I did the same. Unavoidable, I think, because race is an intimate, personal thing. It goes to the core of identity and our apprehension of the world around us. It's about my daughter and your daughter and all the things we want for them. Intimate. And sometimes incendiary. Like our history in this country. . . .

Lonnae

May 31

Lonnae,

. . . Your e-mail was hurtful to me. I've treated you with nothing but kindness, respect and yes, love. I didn't deserve that "ultimate pat on the head" stuff. My eyes are actually starting to burn a bit now. . . .

Sometimes I feel like this is less of a dialogue and more of a platform for you to vent all your frustrations on. . . .

Toni Morrison's "Bluest Eye" was Oprah's book last month. One thing she said in the discussion was, "When you know a person's race, it's the very least you know about that person." Something everyone should keep in mind.

. . . Don't want to lose this connection.

Peggy

June 1

Peggy,

Perhaps I have patted you on the head. . . . I realize you have poured a lot into this and perhaps I've been guilty of offering less of myself. It's not intentional. But the net effect is the same.

. . . Some of this is likely a vent because you're one of the first white people I've ever known to show up for this conversation. Until I wrote this story, I had talked to a few white folks, a few times, but nothing like this. Nothing concentrated, focused, deeply felt. If I've tended to lose you, the individual, in the process, I'm sorry about that. I can only say you are paying for those before you and around you now who have never had the courage to want this dialogue. When talking about race, it's hard not to view people as representative, but I will try harder . . .

I have underestimated you, I think. . . . The whole time you were ripping me a new one, part of me was smiling. Glad that I was wrong about you. Grateful for the lesson that my prose is not as powerful as I'd like to think. I will police myself better. And I will bring more of myself to this conversation.

Peace and blessings, and thank you,
Lonnae

Postscript: Parker and Sakagawa met for the first time in July when Sakagawa went to Washington, D.C.

"She laughed a lot easier than I thought she would," Sakagawa reported.

"I expected her to be big and imposing," Parker said. "She turned out to be this teeny, tiny little thing."

Both cried at the end. Why?

"It was," said Parker, "that she had showed up, that I had showed up, that there was this chasm between us, that we are stepping over all these rocks trying to bridge it."

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