el racismo

As my time in Spain draws to a close, I'm often asked whether I'm happy or sad to be leaving Spain in a few weeks. I love so many things about Spain--the tapas, the architecture, inexpensive wine, the nightlife--and I've learned so much about myself this year after being financially, intellectually, and personally "on my own." At the same time, I know that I could never make Spain my permanent home because I miss my family and friends and, well, I'm just too American.  I think that one of the biggest cultural differences has not been the lack of customer service, the siesta, the bureaucracy, or even the piropos (those annoying comments men yell at foreign women as they walk down the street), but rather the attitudes towards race and racism.

As almost any Spaniard is quick to point out, the U.S. has a long history of discrimination and racism, whether directed against religious, ethnic, socioeconomic, or "racial" groups. Yes, I realize that many American institutions were legally segregated, that the U.S. government interned Japanese-American citizens during World War II, and that, yes, there is a Ku Klux Klan. Yet, despite all of the horrible people, places, and events that mar American history (and continue to affect American society), I take comfort in the fact that so many people are willing to acknowledge racism; to be horrified by comments like "lynch him" or "nappy-headed hos," and to push past criticisms of being "excessively politically correct" to demand public apologies, no matter how insincere. I realize that life in the US is far-from-perfect and that the fight against racism hasn't ended, but I have yet to encounter attitudes of sympathy, empathy, or outrage towards racism in Spain (among Spaniards, that is).  

In Spain's defense, massive immigration is a relatively recent phenomenon. Many immigrants come from Eastern Europe, Latin America, and Asia, but African immigrants seem to be the immigrant "group" around which the Spanish imagination, fueled largely by the media, has taken hold. Dramatic images of groups of immigrants crossing from northern Africa to southern Spain or the Canary Islands in makeshift rafts dominate news stories about immigration, even though only a very small fraction of (illegal) African immigrants make the trip across the water--most enter the country through the airports and overstay their visa. Racial profiling to catch illegal immigrants is completely legal--meaning that the Spanish police can stop anyone with dark skin and ask to see their immigration papers (or passport). Nearly every African American grantee has at least one (and, more likely, several) story (-ies) about being stopped by the police at random and asked for their papers when they were doing nothing more innocuous than walking to a restaurant. One of my friends told me that in situations like this, it's best to pretend that you don't speak any Spanish because that will only make the police more suspicious of your true origins--in her words, "it's difficult enough to convince them that you're an American."

Which brings me to the most recent frustration-inducing moment involving everyone's favorite social networking site, f-book. A fellow grantee, let's call her Rachel, updated her status to say that she was sick of being stopped by the police and asked for her papers and that she was tired of being black in Spain. A few of Rachel's friends commented to say things like, "wow, that sucks" or "I feel for you," but one of her Spanish friends began an eleven-post, extremely nationalistic (and, unfortunately, completely serious) rant that made it seem as if Rachel had no right to feel offended or somehow persecuted because the police here are the best in the world.   It went something like this (translated to English):

"I think your post is stupid. I'm sure that in the US they stop you and question you more often, plus, they're even dumber than the police here. It's better to be black in America, because there the police beat you or shoot you. Just ask Rodney King. I'm sure he'd rather have been in Spain than in the US when the police beat the shit out of him. I hate how Americans who always think that their problems are the worst. Just for speaking Spanish in the US, I was stopped by the police twelve times. The police here are way cool... [proceeds to tell a story about a noisy party he attended where the police came and, rather than breaking up the party, proceeded to drink and join the party]."

At this point, Rachel intervened to say that she didn't think that racist police don't exist in the US, but that the way they treat people is different; that Spain has a different history altogether so he shouldn't use Rodney King as an example, and that she does know racism because she lives in the South. As for his experience with being stopped by the police for speaking Spanish, Rachel commented that he may have been stopped for speaking a foreign language, but that the color of his skin was not (and will never be) the first thing people see when they see him--whereas for her, she will always be black. She also added that she has concluded that black people have a harder time here after talking to numerous Spanish people of color.

"I don't know anyone who's been stopped for being black here in Spain...particularly Americans. I have a lot of black friends, probably more than you. I think you just like drama. And I lived in the US, in black neighborhoods, for a few years. I also understand more than you because my child is "mulatto" and my wife is black. There are no police crazier, dumber, more racist or more corrupt than in the US, where they shoot you just for showing a cell phone. Maybe in Africa, but we're talking about the first world here." The postings ended there after an admission of "look, I don't want to fight, okay?"

Some other grantees and I were talking about this online conversation at a dinner party the other night. The general consensus was that many people here are very defensive of any attacks against their country (which, I guess, is pretty understandable), but the fact they aren't willing to admit racism--or that someone has had a less-than-positive experience in their country--is mind-blowing. Even with an observation as unremarkable as, "wow, there's certainly a lot of pickpocketing here" [as in EVERYONE I know has a story, and in reference to tourist-packed areas of Europe in general], I once got a response to the effect of, "but you're far more likely to be raped or murdered in the US." With respect to matters of race, Americans are told that they're "too sensitive" or "too obsessed with political correctness" when expressing surprise over, say, the fact that a popular variety show features people in blackface imitating black Cubans or the picture in which the Spanish Olympic basketball team pulled the corners of their eyes upwards to look "Chinese."

I know that this isn't an attitude shared by all Spaniards and I'm not trying to intimate that all Spaniards are racist or indifferent to racism. But the contrast between Spain and neighboring Portugal is astonishing--there, you can see non-white people working all sorts of jobs (beyond construction and domestic services), and people of color are in advertisements. Granted, Portugal has a longer history of immigration and, also granted, the dialogue for talking about racism and prejudice doesn't really exist here (yet). Maybe that will change? I feel bad for resigning myself to the position of, "that's the way it is, and that's the way it will be here until something happens," but I wouldn't know what to do in the first place. Many racist comments stem from ignorance, such as the African American TA who was asked by his boss whether he was going to the African dance festival that weekend, or the same TA who was asked by that same boss what people in the ghetto think of Obama (his response? "Just because I'm black doesn't mean I'm from the ghetto; not all black people in the US live in ghettoes").

That's enough ranting for now--these thoughts have been percolating ever since I first visited Spain nearly three years ago. In other news, I've started writing my research paper and hope to finish it soon (no plans for what I'll do with it), AND one of my best friends from home is coming to visit from the beginning of June until I go home mid-June, so I'm pretty excited about that. I don't understand where the time went...how has it been a year since I've graduated?