Some time ago Netflix released a documentary about one of the more controversial characters-phenomena of the American social scene. I am thinking of The Rachel Divide.
Dolezal is a former civil rights activist, black studies instructor, and former president of the NAACP (National Association for the Advancement of Colored People[1]) in Spokane, Washington. In 2015, the media’s attention was focused on Dolezal, because it came to light (or went into wider circulation) that despite the white color of the skin (and white parents, Caucasian type), she introduced herself and identified as a black woman. In a word: she lied, falsified her race. The disclosure of this fact began an avalanche of discussions on racial identity in the United States. The Rachel Divide is the result of this media storm.
The creators of the documentary reconstruct and bring Dolezal’s story closer, dangerously balancing on a thin line over the abyss of controversy (so it is not surprising at all that some viewers were agitated). They sympathize with her, present her private life, look into her past. They ponder over the thesis of the relativity of racial identity, the issue of transraciality, showing many sides of the conflict and defending themselves and the heroine against accusations. This is not an uncritical film, the point is rather that film tries to be somewhere in the middle – that is exactly where the heroine is. She tries to show her perspective and explain where it came from. And this is a terribly incoherent perspective.
Let’s think for a moment about the heroine’s argument, i.e. the assumption that since I feel that I’m black, I’m black. Does racial identity act like sexual orientation? Can we go through the implementation and identification process, then leave the closet and say, “I’m black.” An African American woman counterattacks the heroine, saying that when for some reason the police stop her, she is afraid for her own life – and when the police stop Dolezal, they will probably let her go slowly, giving her a ticket.
Well, the issue of experience seems crucial here[2]. Does a woman who grew up in a traditional, orthodox-Catholic family of the South, who entered the African American milieu much later, can say that her racial identity is different from biological? Or maybe even she possessed some form of experience personally? She may have indirectly felt pressure on the black community, racism, hatred, etc. (we can even assume that the racial threats she allegedly received by mail are not counterfeit by her – which, moreover, cannot be verified, it may be true, may be a lie, and maybe both at once).
Only the heroine never mentions her private experience. If she talks about being black, she covers herself with her children (boys from a relationship with an Afro-American, black people), talking about their hardships of everyday life, their contact with racism, their problems, etc. In addition, she has difficulty answering simple questions about her own race (she cannot directly answer whether she is white or black). Her sons defend her by saying that she would not risk their lives if her experiences were not real. On the other hand, someone commented that she may have believed her own lie and for her this could actually be a real prospect.
The creators do not stop at presenting this unstable perspective, they go a step further, wondering why Dolezal is what she is, coming to simple conclusions. Here the childhood trauma – harsh, violent upbringing – results in an escape and an attempt to overcome your problems with social activity, and then taking over someone else’s, violent experience and filling the inner void (as one commentator says: “You could use therapy!”).
Perhaps the creators are getting here close to the jackpot. However, for me that’s not all. I would look even deeper for the answer to the heroine’s behavior. For me, Dolezal’s attitude is based on two assumptions on which American society is somewhat founded. First, from the neoliberal assumption that we are all the same, so we can build a democratic, universal society in which our dreams are equal and we can all fulfill them. Since we are all the same, I can be you, you can be me – simplifying the psychological character of the documentary. Of course that is not true – what about racial, sexual, social inequalities, etc.?
Secondly, in my opinion Dolezal is a product of a society that hides its guilt behind compulsive compassion (on the other side of the same coin is, of course, violence). We do not plead guilty towards black communities (at least indirectly and not very loudly), but we try to put them in their place – and the extreme case of this type is the heroine of the documentary.
I think that Dolezal’s
case should not be thought in terms of transraciality at all. I am not sure if
this kind of experience is possible against such a huge amount of hatred and
violence. After all, not everyone can easily change their name, surname,
identity and start again.
[1] Organization’s mission is (quote from the statute): “to ensure the political, educational, social, and economic equality of rights of all persons and to eliminate race-based discrimination”.
[2] It is worth returning to Franz Fanon and the movie I Am Not Your Negro, which I wrote about some time ago.
