DATE: Monday, April 21, 1997                TAG: 9704190012

SECTION: LOCAL                   PAGE: B7   EDITION: FINAL 

TYPE: Opinion 

SOURCE: Ann Sjoerdsma 

                                            LENGTH:   81 lines

SHADES OF "WHITENESS" COLOR MEANING

I'm not prejudiced. Some of my best friends are white . . . but a conference on ``whiteness''? What a crock.

The University of California at Berkeley recently held a conference called ``The Making and Unmaking of Whiteness.'' Its point was to get white people to recognize how they assume and bestow privileges on the basis of ``whiteness'' - without even thinking about it.

I viewed it as more bogus homogenizing of nonhomogenous people into a convenient, but absurd social construct. ``White America'' exists only in the minds of black-and-white thinking journalists and academics for whom absolutes come too easily.

When I walk into a roomful of white people, I don't assume I have much in common with anyone. Ditto for a roomful of women, although the possibility of comparable life experience increases.

These groups are far too large. Within them, people are bound to be ``sorted'' by family and upbringing, economic class, education, region, intelligence, morality, and a host of other individual differences.

On the other hand, when I walk into a roomful of journalists or lawyers (a subgroup), I assume we have some knowledge in common, but not necessarily ``identity.''

And a roomful of white female journalists? Again, the variants are still too great. At least, for me.

Though I don't consciously identify myself as white, I know being white has helped to shape who I am. If nothing else, it has liberated me from thinking about my skin color.

Being female, I'm not liberated from thinking about my sex. Women may be the majority sex in the population, but we're the minority in public and business life.

We're not so much a color-coded nation, as one of majorities and minorities; and the minorities, which encompass the gamut from lefthandedness to physical disability to sexuality, religion, wealth and genius, usually suffer the slights of the ignorant among the majority.

Being in a roomful of African Americans would make me a ``minority,'' different, but no less comfortable. Unless the majority decided to single me out.

There was a time when I identified myself as a non-Jew. I grew up in a Jewish suburban neighborhood outside Washington and sat in near-empty classrooms during the High Holidays. I heard anti-Semitic jokes then, but until I came South, where the number of Jews is small, I never met anyone who believed the stereotypes that the jokes exploit.

``White trash,'' too, existed for me only in ``Gone With the Wind,'' not in my immediate surroundings. Today many Americans, black and white, use the perjorative Southern term with ease.

In an emotionally impoverished or insulated environment, a lack of familiarity can breed contempt. And a lack of self-respect and confidence can breed envy, resentment and ridicule.

I know people of all shades see my ``whiteness'' and make assumptions based on it. Just as they see my sex, my age, my looks and clothes and do the same. They characterize who I am, without investigation. I can seek to dissuade or confuse them, but I can't constantly do battle. Or can I? Should I?

There's not a white person alive who hasn't been the recipient of another white person's - often a stranger's - offhand racist remark, sometimes preceded by, ``I'm not prejudiced, but. . . .'' That some white people assume a racial fraternity and expect reinforcement for their bigoted views is hurtful.

Many's the time I've asked myself: Is it worth it to challenge this fool? What will be gained? I never agree with racism, but I don't always rebuke it. I experience a similar dilemma with sexism: Do I confront the offender or just quietly recede?

About 10 years ago, my Christian grandfather made a racial slur during one of our phone conversations, and I challenged him. Later, my mother sighed: ``He's old.'' ``But he's alive,'' I shot back.

And at 96, he still is. I talk to him every week.

The diversity of opinion and perspective among so-called ``White America'' is profound, so profound as to render ``whiteness'' incapable of meaning except in the ``majority'' sense. Which is, from my viewpoint, no-sense. Except, as the Berkeley conferees were quick to note: The numbers are changing. How will ``majority'' people feel when they are no longer?

The truth is we're all minorities of one. MEMO: Ann G. Sjoerdsma, an attorney, is an editorial columnist and book

editor for The Virginian-Pilot.

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