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Home » How To Deconstruct Racism, One Headline At A Time: Baratunde Thurston (Transcript)

How To Deconstruct Racism, One Headline At A Time: Baratunde Thurston (Transcript)

Here is the full transcript of Baratunde Thurston’s talk titled “How To Deconstruct Racism, One Headline At A Time” at TED conference.

Listen to the audio version here:

TRANSCRIPT:

My parents gave me an extraordinary name: Baratunde Rafiq Thurston. Now, Baratunde is based on a Yoruba name from Nigeria, but we’re not Nigerian. That’s just how black my mama was. “Get this boy the blackest name possible. What does the book say?” Rafiq is an Arabic name, but we are not Arabs. My mom just wanted me to have difficulty boarding planes in the 21st century. She foresaw America’s turn toward nativism. She was a black futurist.

Thurston is a British name, but we are not British. Shoutout to the multigenerational, dehumanizing economic institution of American chattel slavery, though. Also, Thurston makes for a great Starbucks name. Really expedites the process. My mother was a renaissance woman.

Arnita Lorraine Thurston was a computer programmer, former domestic worker, survivor of sexual assault, an artist, and an activist. She prepared me for this world with lessons in black history, in martial arts, in urban farming, and then she sent me in the seventh grade to the private Sidwell Friends School, where US presidents send their daughters, and where she sent me looking like this.

Early Life and Education

I had two key tasks going to that school: don’t lose your blackness and don’t lose your glasses. This accomplished both. Sidwell was a great place to learn the arts and the sciences, but also the art of living amongst whiteness. That would prepare me for life later at Harvard, or doing corporate consulting, or for my jobs at “The Daily Show” and “The Onion.” I would write down many of these lessons in my memoir, “How to Be Black,” which if you haven’t read yet, makes you a racist, because — you’ve had plenty of time to read the book. But America insists on reminding me and teaching me what it means to be black in America.

It’s December 2018, I’m with my fiancé in the suburbs of Wisconsin. We are visiting her parents, both of whom are white, which makes her white. That’s how it works. I don’t make the rules. She’s had some drinks, so I drive us in her parents’ car, and we get pulled over by the police. I’m scared. I turn on the flashing lights to indicate compliance. I pull over slowly under the brightest streetlight I can find in case I need witnesses or dashcam footage. We get out my identification, the car registration, lay it out in the open, roll down the windows, my hands are placed on the steering wheel, all before the officer exits the vehicle. This is how to stay alive.

Navigating Racial Challenges

As we wait, I think about these headlines — “Police shoot another unarmed black person” — and I don’t want to join them. The good news is, our officer was friendly. She told us our tags were expired. So to all the white parents out there, if your child is involved with a person whose skin tone is rated Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson or darker — you need to get that car inspected, update the paperwork every time we visit. That’s just common courtesy. I got lucky. I got a law enforcement professional. I survived something that should not require survival.

And I think about this series of stories — “Police shoot another unarmed black person” — and that season when those stories popped up everywhere. I would scroll through my feed and I would see a baby announcement photo. I’d see an ad for a product I had just whispered to a friend about yesterday. I would see a video of a police officer gunning down someone who looked just like me. And I’d see a think piece about how millennials have replaced sex with avocado toast. It was a confusing time.

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Those stories kept popping up, but in 2018, those stories got changed out for a different type of story, stories like, “White Woman Calls Cops On Black Woman Waiting For An Uber.” That was Brooklyn Becky. Then there was, “White Woman Calls Police On Eight-Year-Old Black Girl Selling Water.” That was Permit Patty. Then there was, “Woman Calls Police On Black Family BBQing At Lake In Oakland.” That was now infamous BBQ Becky.

Living While Black

And I contend that these stories of living while black are actually progress. We used to find out after the extrajudicial police killings. Now, we’re getting video of people calling 911. We’re moving upstream, closer to the problem and closer to the solution. So I started a collection of as many of these stories as I could find. I built an evolving, still-growing database at baratunde.com/livingwhileblack.

Seeking understanding, I realized the process was really diagramming sentences to understand these headlines. And I want to thank my Sidwell English teacher Erica Berry and all English teachers. You have given us tools to fight for our own freedom.

What I found was a process to break down the headline and understand the consistent layers in each one: a subject takes an action against a target engaged in some activity, so that “White Woman Calls Police On Eight-Year-Old Black Girl” is the same as “White Man Calls Police On Black Woman Using Neighborhood Pool” is the same as “Woman Calls Cops On Black Oregon Lawmaker Campaigning In Her District.” They’re the same.

Diagramming the sentences allowed me to diagram the white supremacy which allowed such sentences to be true, and I will pause to define my terms. When I say “white supremacy,” I’m not just talking about Nazis or white power activists, and I’m definitely not saying that all white people are racist.

What I’m referring to is a system of structural advantage that favors white people over others in social, economic, and political arenas. It’s what Bryan Stevenson at the Equal Justice Initiative calls the narrative of racial difference, the story we told ourselves to justify slavery and Jim Crow and mass incarceration and beyond.