On Saturday night my dear Benjamin and his lovely Jennifer threw a party. Adults, no kids. Straight, no chaser. Suffer as I do from the indignities of middle age, I was struggling to muster the requisite energy to socialize past 7pm. But I love Bennifer and a good party. So I did what any responsible adult would do: I downed a shot of mezcal in the kitchen, brought a beer and a bluetooth speaker in the shower, and blasted Steely Dan’s Countdown to Ecstasy. A shower, a shave, a light buzz, and I was off into the night.
Thus began my week of Steely Dan. I had the idea to listen to Steely all week and write a meditation of sorts on them this morning. Back in March, I wrote this Ode to Wayne Shorter, who, incidentally, played sax on Steely’s magnum opus, Aja. If you have not sat quietly and taken in Aja from Black Cow to Josie, you’re doing it wrong. Listen, Aja is my Christmas gift to you. Please. Enjoy.
On one hand, Steely Dan hardly needs my cheerleading. They sold a zillion albums and sold out the best venues for 40+ years. Yet they seem to be one of those bands that are “an acquired taste” that most don’t choose to acquire. And it’s not just an age thing, though I suspect The Dan matters to only a few folks under forty. Mostly dudes. On one hand, I get it. This is a band named after the infamous Steely Dan III from Yokohama, an oversized, steam-powered strap-on used by Mary at AJ’s Annual Party in William Burroughs’ novel, Naked Lunch. So, yeah, maybe not everyone’s cup o’ tea. Still, I thought I might opine on Steely and perhaps win a few converts to pray at the Fagen-Becker altar, twisted as it may be.
Alas, this will not be the Ode to Steely Dan edition of the Sabbateur. I wish it were so simple.
So. I was watching a live Steely concert on the YouTubes. Seven instrumentalists, all white. Three backup vocalists, all Black.
Okay, now hear me out. First, Steely Dan has had Black musicians in and out of the band for years. Horn players. Drummers. Freddie Washington on bass for a long time. Second, the art matters more than the vessel. It wouldn’t trouble me if Steely Dan was part-white or all-white all the time, nor does it bother me that James Brown’s band was all Black, most of the time. I might add that I find it refreshing to see racially-integrated bands; but it’s not essential and I don’t judge. Honestly. I don’t judge. But I notice. I’m aware. I tend to be race-conscious. For better and for worse.
I’ve been thinking about race-consciousness more acutely since a former student linked me to this TED Talk by Coleman Hughes. The talk is titled A Case for Color Blindness. The description reads:
Racial inequality provokes passionate opinions and varied ideas of how to build a fair, equitable society. One topic that's been contentiously debated for generations is color blindness: the concept that we should look beyond race when thinking about equity. In this talk, writer and podcast host Coleman Hughes makes a case in favor of the idea, sharing why he thinks the key to reducing inequality and easing racial tensions is replacing race-based policies with class-based ones.
My former student wanted my opinion. I’m not sure I have an opinion on race-consciousness. I do, however, have questions and concerns. Here goes…
Like my student, Coleman Hughes is an impressive fella. Musician. Writer. Podcaster. Debater. After dropping out of Julliard to chase a career in hip hop, Hughes pursued his passion for public policy, earning a BA in philosophy from Columbia University. Again, impressive.
I watched his TED Talk and shared it with my student group, JFKS IDEAS (thanks to the two of you who anonymously supported IDEAS! You can still support us over here. Every little bit helps!). The kids watched, discussed, and debated Hughes. It was a lively conversation.
But later I learned that TED refused to air Hughes’ talk until or unless he was willing to participate in a public debate with someone who refuted his basic premise. He was canceled before he even aired.
At the request of TED, Hughes proffered a list of a dozen or so potential sparring partners. In the end it was agreed-upon that he would debate Jamelle Bouie, who I’ve been a fanboying over for a decade. I learned a lot from Bouie’s byline and podcast appearances when he worked at Slate and I follow his beat at the New York Times. Long story, but he’s the reason I sometimes listen to instrumental movie soundtracks when doing deep work, like writing.
While I feel that Hughes was dissed by TED (they read his work, they invited him, he did well, they refused to air him, they’ve never done this to anyone else) I am grateful to bear witness to this debate because I have agonized over this for decades.
Here is the video of the debate. Here is an audio-only podcast debate on Spotify or Apple.
Bouie says colorblindness perpetuates racism; Hughes claims colorblindness is the best way to combat racism.
There are two main strands to the color-blind versus color-conscious debate: there is the public policy strand and the personal preference strand. Both strands are rooted in a deeply complicated, often vexed, sometimes contradictory, historical context.
Wendell Phillips, arguably the most influential abolitionist of his day, was adamant that our goal must be a color-blind society. Bouie disputes this characterization of Phillips’ position. But in 1864, the New York Times, Bouie’s employer, wrote that, “Mr. Philips declares it the duty of the Government to be ‘color-blind.’ He himself is anything but that.” I bet Hughes wishes he had that quote handy in his debate with Bouie.
Hughes cites A. Philip Randolph, arguably the founder of the modern civil rights movement, who implored Americans to be color-blind. Bouie claims there is a broader context to Randolph’s exhortations.
Randolph organized the 1963 March on Washington at which Dr. King stood in the shadow of the Lincoln memorial and immortalized the moral vision of the civil rights movement by declaring, “I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.”
King’s sentiment was echoed by NAACP lawyer, ACLU board member, and the first Black Supreme Court Justice Thurgood Marshall, who spoke and wrote poetically about the need for the U.S. Constitution to be color-blind.
Their debate over color-blind versus color-conscious policies sounds something like this:
Hughes argues that color-blindness doesn’t mean pretending that race doesn’t exist, it means not assuming things and making judgments based on race. He argues that there are much better metrics, particularly class, for making policy.
Bouie argues being color-blind means turning a blind eye to the reality of entrenched racism. He says that to tackle problems that are fundamentally and quite clearly a direct result of a long history of policies meant to subjugate certain races, and in-particular Black people, color-conscious policies must be enacted.
At the heart of this debate is, predictably, affirmative action. While a critically important issue, I tire of the discussion of affirmative action. The debate has been going on all my life. The Supreme Court recently struck it down. Most Americans are not in favor of affirmative action. That said, most Americans erroneously conflate affirmative action with quota systems, which have been illegal for a long time. I’ve always had strong but mixed feelings about affirmative action, especially in the education space. It’s always been complicated for me. Surely there are circumstances for which affirmative steps seem prudent. But I’m not certain where I would draw lines. I just don’t have a firm position to cling to on affirmative action. Maybe you do. If so, good on ya.
But affirmative action is not the only race-conscious policy in the stable. The Biden administration passed a Covid rescue package that gave preferential treatment to female and minority-owned restaurants. On one hand, I get it. The restaurant industry has thoroughly disadvantaged marginalized groups. On the other hand, Biden’s plan is clearly discriminatory. The courts adjudicated the matter.
Both debaters chose to focus on color-conscious versus color-blind public policies. Frustratingly, they agreed to ignore how people should process race. So let’s pivot from policies to the personal…
Should you and I be race-conscious or race-blind in our daily lives?
And, if I may be more targeted in my question: if, how, when, should we be color-conscious or color-blind?
Okay, so it turns out that I’m riddled with questions. Here goes…
Does color-blindness, in effect, blind us to the harsh realities of racial disparities?
Is it possible that color-blindness is a long-term goal, but a goal that can only be achieved through color-based policies that address the long history of abuses and usurpations of white power?
Is it also possible that if we have color-conscious policies then it becomes that much harder to have a society of color-blind citizens?
It struck me this week that we fail to see the whole picture either way. You see:
If we choose to lean towards race-consciousness, we invariably make false assumptions about people. We assume that a person’s race necessarily has a tangible, immediately knowable impact on that person's identity, values, customs, beliefs, ideologies, etc. Race-conscious people assume that a person’s race says something substantial and irrevocable about that person’s privilege in society. With increasing frequency, race-conscious people promote or decry people for the privileges they are assumed to have. All this can be divisive.
If we choose to try to be race-blind, which may or may not be possible, we willingly and woefully choose to be blind to the wonderful nuances of the diversity of cultures, subcultures, histories, complicated identities, etc. We also choose to ignore the very real impacts of race in a racialized culture.
Uggh. Shoulda stuck with Steely Dan.
Today is the last day of school before the two-week holiday. Let’s gooo!
May your days be merry and bright. Here’s my homemade Christmas playlist. Merry Christmas one and all.
Yours,
D
I’m learning how rituals that mark time matter to me. So this year, I am carving out an hour or so on Friday to sit quietly before my family wakes to write about what I obsessed about that week. If you enjoy this weekly reflection, please subscribe so I can send it to you every Friday.