I had a call earlier this month from an Arkansas business owner whose company name would be instantly familiar to readers of this publication. I hadn’t talked to him in a while, and never about the subject of this particular call: This white businessman was looking for ways to market his wares to African Americans.
It’s a good idea. In just 26 years, if the U.S. Census Bureau’s projection holds, marketing specifically to white consumers will be marketing to a minority of Americans.
I’m obviously not a marketing consultant, but I was able to give my caller the names of a couple of local agencies that offer exactly the kind of service he needs. I hope I was helpful and that a couple of local companies can do mutually beneficial business.
That short conversation, coming when race seems to be much in the news, reminded me of something Darrin Williams, CEO of Southern Bancorp and one of Arkansas’ most prominent black businessmen, said recently that I was compelled to write down: “The business case for diversity will do more than the moral case.”
I don’t doubt that he’s right, but I’d like to be engaged in the moral case as well. Through a combination of happenstance, like that recent call, and deliberate outreach, I have done more talking and listening and a whole lot more thinking about the issue of race lately. And I find myself wanting to do more of it, because I am clearly not as observant or as sensitive as I want to be.
A few years back, The Gap quickly withdrew an ad for girls’ clothing that featured three white girls and a black girl, and the tallest white girl had her arm propped on the head of the shorter black girl. Being vertically challenged myself, I’ve been propped on many times in my life. I would not have given any thought to the photo if it had not become controversial, but a black co-worker said she noticed immediately that the only black girl did not look like she was enjoying being a prop.
Similarly, I was surprised by reactions to former Vice President Joe Biden’s statement that he had, as a young senator, been able to work with segregationists in Congress. Beyond his tacit acknowledgement that he is really old to be running for president, I thought finding civil ways to work with people whose opinions you don’t share was a desirable trait in a politician. While some black Democrats in Congress defended Biden, I can’t discount the opinions of Sen. Kamala Harris and Sen. Cory Booker just because they are rivals for the nomination; they have experiences and viewpoints I don’t have.
I also think it’s a mistake for Republicans to dismiss the warnings of their party’s only two remaining black members of Congress — Sen. Tim Scott of South Carolina and Rep. Will Hurd of Texas — who confirmed that President Donald Trump’s suggestion that four women of color in Congress “go back” to their countries of origin was racially offensive.
Even before the president’s inflammatory tweets, Hurd appeared on “Meet the Press” and said, “I’ve been telling people, if we want to keep the Republican Party in Texas, the Republican Party in Texas needs to start looking like Texas. And I think that this is — that goes for the rest of the country as well.”
In other words, he was making the GOP’s business case for diversity.
Talking about race is hard and uncomfortable, and I do not hold myself out as any kind of expert. I interviewed a couple of historians for my feature in this issue about the 1919 Elaine massacre, and listening to my nervous laughter on the recording was painful. Of course, I don’t find any of it funny; the abject racism and inhumanity, compounded by systemic injustice, are almost beyond comprehension.
My husband’s grandfather witnessed a much less deadly race riot in Omaha, Nebraska, a few days before the Elaine massacre, and it was an indelible memory 65 years later. I was 40 before I ever heard about Elaine, but not talking about it changes nothing. As Kyle Miller, a member of the Elaine Massacre Memorial Committee, told me, “You can’t keep thinking it’s going to go away.”
One thing that I have learned is this: Pretending to be “colorblind,” the ideal that white Americans of good will embraced a half-century ago, is not cutting it. To be blind to color is to be blind to the reason for so much injustice. We have got to talk and we have got to listen.
Email Gwen Moritz, editor of Arkansas Business, at GMoritz@ABPG.com and follow her on Twitter at @gwenmoritz. |