When Americans think about race, âwhiteâ is often the furthest thing from their minds. To have a race is to be black, Asian, Latina/o or American Indian. Yet whiteness colors so much of social life in the United States, from the organization and maintenance of social structures to an individualâs sense of self. Why is there such a disconnect?
Before being able to answer this question, it is important to understand just what the term âwhiteâ means. Determining who is considered whiteâor black, or American Indian, or any other raceâmay seem obvious. In common conversation, people are said to appear visually as though they belong to a particular race. So, for example, membership in the category âwhiteâ is automatic if one has light skin, straight hair, and blue eyes. However, it is not the case that the possession of a given set of physical attributes automatically designates membership of a particular racial group. The meaning of race and any corresponding physical identifiers are deeply embedded in power relations (Omi 2001). This construction of whiteness is a central part of the social construction of race itself. Race is a result of social relations, not simply a reflection of the enduring attributes of any particular group of people. Hence the category âwhiteâ changes its meaning and shifts its boundaries in different times and places. Sometimes it goes unnoticed by the majority group, while at other times whites are readily seen, even by themselves.
Although the privilege of whiteness has touched, in some way, every part of the globe, its manifestation in America is relatively unique. European colonialism led to an equation between âraceâ and dominance, as settler colonists from Europe oppressed and exploited non-European (and therefore non-white) residents throughout the world. One of the starkest examples of this exploitation was the slave trade. The extensive transport of slaves to the United Statesâcoupled with a relatively large population of European originâled to the development of a society that was built upon racial violence and subordination. The genocide of indigenous populations further solidified the power of whites, who, given their numeric majority, were less threatened by a non-white revolution than were their counterparts in other countries. In America, not only is whiteness synonymous with privilege, but the mobilization and defense of whitesâ interests have fundamentally shaped every aspect of life. Even the initial ethnic differences among European settlers slowly blurred, creating one uniform âwhiteâ groupâat which point whiteness became increasingly associated with intelligence and a strong work ethic (Levine-Rasky 2016). As the privileges of whiteness grew greater, the desire of individuals to be included within this group became stronger.
The boundaries of whiteness have been vigorously policed by a variety of American institutions. LĂłpez (2006; originally published in 1996) provides a compelling account of the ways in which racial categories have been constructed by social institutions, especially the law, in the face of individual pressure for inclusion. In addition to legal measures, âwhiteâ has also been a subject of contestation in educational institutions, neighborhoods, social organizations, government policy, the media, and innumerable personal interactions in daily life. As Jacobson (1999) has demonstrated, the racialization of Jews is a particularly illustrative example of the ways in which whiteness is articulated and policed and, ultimately, of how malleable it is. While anti-Semitic movements and ideologies are still evident in contemporary America, Jewsâ identification as white is assumed by all but the most extreme white supremacists. Yet there was a time less than a century ago when Jews were often considered to be non-white. One example of the discriminatory treatment that Jews received during that time comes from elite colleges and universities that had quotas designed to restrict the number of Jewish matriculates (Karabel 2005). Jewish fraternities arose in response to the exclusion of Jews from white social organizations (Sanua 2018). And restrictive covenants prevented Jews from buying homes in a number of neighborhoods throughout the country (Brooks and Rose 2013).
To many, these structural impediments to the economic and social opportunities of Jews might seem surprising. The fact that they are surprising is testament to the shifting boundaries of whiteness. But, while these boundaries may have shifted, one fact remains constant: whiteness is a definitive mark of privilege. Individuals and groups have fought bitterly for inclusion in the category of âwhiteâ for precisely this reason.
The whiteness that so many have striven to obtain has multiple manifestations. Perhaps the most important is the aforementioned privilege attached to this category. Ultimately, whiteness manifests itself in all circumstances as privilege, even if individuals may not view it as such. As critical race theorists note, âracial stratification is ordinary, ubiquitous, and reproduced in mundane and extraordinary customs and experienceâ (Brown 2008: 54). The privilege of whiteness is so interwoven with the ânormalâ functioning of institutions and the character of interactions that it is often noticed only in cases of rupture of the ordinary, for example when white supremacists use a racial slur. However, the power and privilege of whiteness do not require that overt racism survive; rather, advantages accrue to whites because the economic, political and social institutions of America have long been designed to secure white dominance. This may take the form of discrimination in lending, voter disenfranchisement, and a host of other ways that are not the product of individualsâ overt racism.
White identity is connected to privilege, as it is shaped in the set of social relations and interactions that are connected to white dominance. However, identity is typically formed at the individual level, so there is variation in the ways in which whites understand the meaning of their racial group membership. Some whites rarely think about their racial identity and may in fact believe that they have no race; this belief is, itself, a form of identity. Some whites may feel strongly attached to being white, either from a sense of pride (which can be connected to white supremacist affiliations) or from a sense of guilt (which can spur some whites down the path of anti-racist activism). White identity is important to understand, as it is connected to a host of political and social behaviors.
For example, attitudes toward non-white racial groups, immigration, and criminal justice policies can be influenced by white identity. In general, whites are more likely to be punitive toward those caught in the criminal justice system on the offending side, and they are also more likely to be opposed to immigration. Some of the attitudes whites hold toward non-whitesâespecially blacks and Latinos/asâare related to feelings of threat in front of a perceived loss of status and control (Craig and Richeson 2014b). In general, familiarity with white attitudes can provide the basis for understanding white behavior; changing attitudes can change actions, which in turn can reduce the ways in which whites act to maintain their privilege. In some cases, whitesâ attitudes can lead them to affiliate with social movements that are designed to extend, secure, or challenge the benefits of whiteness. Some of the organizÂations that will be discussed later, such as the Tea Party, the Ku Klux Klan, and the liberal Center for a Fair Economy, are motivated by different dimensions of whiteness to shape their policies and actions.
Discussions of race and privilege can founder on notions that privilege is roughly equivalent to being richâthat privilege is an outcome rather than a structural position. This understanding of privilege suggests that there is no connection between race and privilegeâthat any group is equally able to make money through hard work and good choices. In addition, those adopting an individual-level understanding of race and privilege might point to the many whites who are not economically advantaged but have to struggle through their daily lives. How could such struggles possibly indicate privilege? However, privilege is much broader than simply a reflection of oneâs income (Kimmel and Ferber 2009). Whites are advantaged over non-whites in myriad ways that apply to all whites, not just to those with a lot of money and education. It is important to note that whites are privileged relatively to non-whites not merely through the direct benefits of whiteness, but also through its function as a category of structural power and control. Regardless of the personal difficulties that an individual white person might experience, he or she is, ultimately, the beneficiary of his or her groupâs dominant status. Access to resources and opportunities is substantially greater for members of the dominant group even if specific individuals are unable to take advantage of it. Just as all citizens of the United States benefit from the superior military defense of the nation when it comes to being protected from invasion, all whites benefit from the superior structural position of their group when it comes to the types of systematic advantage that this position grants them.
The benefits of structural advantage are often understood in monetary terms: whites make more money and have more wealth than blacks or Latinos/as. Thinking about racial advantage in terms of money is illuminating, but it can encourage people to explain away class differences as attached to individual-level characteristicsâa strong work ethic or high intelligence, for instance. Evidence suggests that the source of racial advantage need not rest with the individual at all. For example, Roysterâs (2003) study of racial differences in the social networks that help workers secure employment shows that whites have advantages over blacks without even trying. Whites refer friends for jobs, and the racial segregation of many friendship groups means that white peopleâs friends are typically white. Even in a group of similarly trained, similarly skilled black and white working-class men who graduated from the same high school in Baltimore, whites had higher status jobs and shorter periods of unemployment. This racial difference in work opportunities was due almost exclusively to the different informal networks to which black and white men had access (Royster 2003).
Social networks are not the only structural factor creating the advantages of whiteness. Home ownership is the primary source of wealth for most Americans (Krivo and Kaufman 2004), and homes in majority black neighborhoods are likely to be devalued by comparison to homes in white-dominated neighborhoodsâeven after holding other housing and community characteristics constant (Perry, Rothwell, and Harshbarger 2018). In addition, blacks are less likely to have access to loans or gifts from family members that could help them make a down payment on a home. At every step of the home-buying processâfrom finding a real estate agent through having a mortgage application evaluated to closing the saleâthey are victims of stereotypes and discrimination that give whites unfair access to resources and space (Korver-Glenn 2018). Delays in stepping into home ownership, coupled with slowly increasing (or even decreasing) property values, can make an initially small (or relatively small) racial gap in wealth between a white and a black individual become a huge difference by the end of life. This disadvantage is transmitted to the next generation and can accumulate throughout time even without any active discrimination.
Other forms of the structural advantage of whiteness are manifested in more subtle ways. The social burden of dealing with discrimination and reduced opportunities takes a toll on the health and well-being of many non-white groups. African Americans in particular have lower life expectancies than whites, even after controlling for social class (Franks et al. 2006). In and of itself, the process of dealing with the stress of increased scrutiny and lowered expectations can result in an increased likelihood of a host of medical conditions such as heart disease and depression. The fact that more blacks are concentrated in low-income groups that tend to live shorter lives than the affluent explains some health discrepancies, but there is also an independent contribution of race to health outcomes. For example, blacks who live in relatively affluent neighborhoods and suffer a heart attack live for fewer years afterwards than do whites who live in relatively affluent neighborhoods (Bucholz et al. 2015).
While these structural advantages of whiteness are fundamental, racial identity is also important to individualsâ conceptualization and understanding of themselves; it is a substantial component of whiteness. âWhitenessâ and âwhite identityâ can be used somewhat interchangeably, although identity refers more precisely to a conceptualization of race that centers on an individual, while whiteness encompasses the broader racialization of structures, culture, and institutions that manifest white racial privilege and expression. Identity, in other words, is how we (and others) think about our own relationship to racial categories, while whiteness is a broader concept, which includes both individual and societal racial definitions and processes.
Psychological as well as social benefits can be attached to racial identification. White identitiesâeven when not consciously assimilatedâcan make individuals feel that they are normal and unremarkable. White identity facilitates other, non-racial identities to take on greater importance in white peopleâs lives. For example gender, sexual orientation, religion, political party, and region of residence are given the space to be prominent features of individualsâ lives. For many blacks, Latinos/as, American Indians, and Asians, on the other hand, racial identity is linked so prominently to daily experiences that it can be a near-totalizing component of their broader identity. Non-white identities need not be negative, however. People who do not identify as white can have a sense of pride and enhanced self-esteem as a result of their racial identities (Hughes et al. 2015).
While racial identity manifests itself differently not only among different subgroups of whites, it can do so for the same individual, over time. Knowing how whites understand what their racial identification means to them is important for a host of reasons. Self-identification with any group influences the ways in which we view the world and our place in it. It also influences the ways in which we treat members of other groups. Even when identity remains unacknowledged, it is nonetheless implicit, as individuals explicitly exclude themselves from other identities. For example, even though a middle-class white individual living in a racially homogenous neighborhood might explicitly identify as white only on rare occasions, such as when filling out a survey form (Martin et al. 1999) or a job application, their white identity is always implicit in their conceptualization of themselves as ânot blackâ or ânot Latino/a.â
It is important to think about the different ways in which white racial identity manifests itself across the broad, eclectic spectrum of those considered (by themselves and by others) âwhite.â By categorizing different understandings and experiences of whiteness, we can not only gain a deeper appreciation of racial self-awareness but also make linkages between forms of identity and social and political behavior. It is easy to be baffled by sudden acts of racial violence or by white assertions of superiority, especially as they coexist with white anti-racist activism and a desire to âsaveâ poor blacks and Latinos/as from their difficult circumstances. What leads people to mobilize their racial identities in such different ways? Why arenât all white people alike?
There are a range of answers to these questions. Social class, geography, social context, and degree of contact with non-whites all influence white racial identity. It is especially important to think about the ways in which the contexts and the statuses of others affect whiteness, as these ways demonstrate that whiteness is not a ânatural, unchangeable phenomenonâ (Alcoff 2015: 74). Contexts such as neighborhood choice not only are influenced by white identity but also shape it (Alcoff 2015). For example, whites who live in majority non-white neighborhoods or work in majority non-white settings will be routinely reminded of their whiteness, as it makes them stand in opposition to those with whom they frequently interact. In such settings, interactions between whites and non-whites can have a multilayered quality, shaped by class and spatial factors as they intersect with abstract understandings of race (Hartigan 1997). The same would be true of whites married to non-whites. White racial awareness will most likely be much greater among them than among the many whites who work, attend school and live in primarily white settings. Vasquez (2014) refers to this awareness as âracial cognizance,â a perspective that not only entails an awareness of white identity but also is explicitly aware of racial inequality. In the case of whites married to Latinos/as, the awareness of whiteness is generated not only by the continual contrasting racial classifications of those in oneâs immediate environment, but also by the incidence of witnessing instances of discrimination against family members (Vasquez 2014).
Whiteness manifests itself differently in different regions of the country, racial identity often being experienced differently in the South and in the Southwest, for example. In addition, rural whites can have a different understanding of what it means to be whiteâdifferent, that is, from that of urban or suburban dwellers. In part, this is a result of exposure to non-whites; many rural areas, especially those outside the South, tend to be racially...