The limits of what constitutes a racist act are too liberally defined today. With a heightened sensitivity to racial inequality, we’ve become overzealous when classifying things as racist.
Racism is no longer strictly a matter of prejudicial intent; it has become a term used to classify any case in which the parties simply have different heritages.
As a white male, I’m loosely entitled to reference the oppressed side of oppression (though still racism, “reverse” racism is hardly impactful), but I am entitled to examine where and when shouts of racism are heard and whether or not they are justified.
The shooting of 17-year-old Trayvon Martin has further fueled concerns of racism, police misconduct and faulty legislation, many of which were left dormant through false securities and complacency.
Does this case classify as a hate crime?
Did the police baselessly stereotype Martin in favor of George Zimmerman, his white-Hispanic killer?
The answers, I think, are “no” and “yes” respectively, though the questions asked are already loaded.
Because the killing occurred across racial boundaries, it automatically qualifies as a hate crime in the perceptions of many.
Yet, a white man kills a white man, a black man kills a black man, and no one questions whether race is a factor.
Surely, Zimmerman stereotyped Martin (that much can be heard in his 911 call, in which he claimed that Martin appeared to be suspicious and on drugs), but I wonder if he would have been much less suspicious if I were the one roaming the streets of his community at night with my hood up.
What was the cause of Zimmerman’s suspicion? That Martin’s face was black or that he could hardly see his face at all?
The issue of the hoodie is central in this case. Despite my disgust for almost everything that spews out from under Geraldo Rivera’s mustache, I think his claim about the threatening nature of hoodies is accurate.
If I’m out at night and I’m approached by a woman in fishnets, pumps and makeup that’s an inch thick, I assume she’s a prostitute (or in a sorority). If I’m approached by a man in a tan trench coat scanning frantically, I assume he might flash me. If I’m approached by a guy with his hood up (in Florida in late February, when a hoodie is about as practical as a snow plow) I would be wise to be cautious.
That is not to say that Zimmerman should have stalked Martin as he did. The “night watchman” has obvious insecurities, but he was not unreasonable for being initially suspicious of Martin’s intentions (just as he would be if it were me roaming the streets with my hood up).
My concern is what or from where our tendency to see things as racial issues comes from. In Zimmerman’s 911 call, he had to be asked the race of the man he was following.
The case is tragic and obviously must make us reassess our self-defense laws and investigate the prevalence of police misconduct. If there is a clear case of racism here, it is in the officers’ assumption that Martin was not a resident of the neighborhood, not in Zimmerman’s heightened suspicion.
The officers may have stereotyped based on Martin’s race, but accusations of Zimmerman’s bigotry are unfounded, and frankly hint at the inherent bigotry in those who are accusing.
It seems that, in viewing the case in hindsight, we are the ones tainting these issues with calls of racism.
Dyllan Furness is a philosophy and English junior at UF. His column appears on Tuesdays.
