The Lemon/How do white
people see?
A tale of two fruits.
I write, as a white person, with a frank message for other whites: there is a four-hundred-year-old disconnect between our eyes and our brains, and it has turned openly violent once again. White supremacy is alive, supported by white politicians in positions of immense power, on a daily basis and — this may take you by surprise — by your white boss, by your white colleague and by your white friend.
The Lemon. A fruit of empire. We white people love squeezing it on unseasoned fish, wedging it in a plain chicken carcass before roasting.
In recent decades, white liberals have reacted to the harsh fact of historical racism by undertaking what they like to call “diversity” and “equality” work. This tokenistic project, which acknowledges racial inequality exists but insufficiently understands its source, has failed. Despite Black and Brown people appearing more regularly in the media, whiteness still calls the shots, has the last word. How can real change take place when the spaces in which we work are still white spaces? When the “diversity” project is complete, and there is “equal representation” between white people and people of colour, will the oppression end? No. Why? Because whiteness is a social force, not a skin colour.
The introduction of tropical flavours into British cuisine. The exoticisation of othered fruits. Not so lovely lemons.
Why not try having this conversation with the white people you know? Race is a grotesque fiction. Think of the way it organises our social world: white people at the centre of everything, dominating the politics and culture of what we clumsily call “The West”. White people run our institutions, our media. Since its invention in the 1600s, whiteness has nominated itself, violently, to the centre-ground of what it means to be human and we are blind to the full story of this history of oppression.
We accept whiteness as “normal” and “acceptable”, but it never has been, and never will be. We cannot create an anti-racist whiteness, because to be white is to be racist: whiteness was invented in order to justify white superiority, colonialism, the trans-Atlantic slave trade. To be properly anti-racist we must attack the identity that paved the way for racism: the social and political dominance of whiteness. Are you white and feel ignored, frustrated? Well this is your chance at real freedom. George Yancy, an American philosopher wrote, “The death of whiteness will mean more abundant life not only for Black people, but for white people as well.”
When Christopher Columbus arrived in the Americas in 1492, he planted lemon trees, which grew as indigenous people were murdered. Think of all those lemon trees in Florida and California, planted to prevent scurvy. But the scurvy was us.
The problem with the “diversity” approach is a problem of seeing. It puts forward the idea that if Black and Brown people are as visible as white people, the problem of racism will go away. (In fact, some people already think we live in a “post-race” world). This is us whites’ way of being “good whites”. We offer overly simple solutions to complex problems, so that we can look good while doing what we think is the right thing. We define the path to racial equality as a kind of cosmopolitan city street: a roughly equal amount of white, Black and Brown people. But what if the structure of the street itself is white? What if the paving stones are white property? What if, hidden below the surface of the liberal view of racial equity, white people are still in control?
Have you ever noticed curiously, how lemons preserve everything? Lemon trees can grow for 150 years, which is longer than the life span of a white person.
White people see with what cultural theorist Stuart Hall called a “white eye”. This is a form of looking that blinds us before we see. When we gaze upon Black and Brown bodies we do so with a mixture of fear and misunderstanding. We have been socially programmed to see people of colour as a threat. Why else do white police officers disproportionately stop young Black men in the street, harassing them, even shooting them? Why do we associate Brown people with terrorism, when most terrorist attacks are carried out by white people? Why are people of colour presented as visible because of their racialisation, whereas white people remain raceless? Why is a white success story labelled simply a “success story,” but Black success a “Black success story”?
For us white people to be able to untie ourselves from whiteness, we must first learn to see anew. It is time, my fellow whites, to make ourselves vulnerable, to undertake self-criticality beyond the liberal confines of anti-racism, and to understand the violent history of our own making.
Whiteness is a scurvy we do not know we have.
—
Note: The text can be performed by one or any number of people who identify as racially white. For full instructions and to receive a t-shirt(s) for the performer(s) to wear, contact me via email.
List of performances/publications to date:
This text was read/performed by Daniel C. Blight at the invitation of Abbas Zahedi, recipient of the Frieze Artist Award, at Frieze London, October 2022.
A version of this essay was published by Vogue Italia in November 2019.
I write, as a white person, with a frank message for other whites: there is a four-hundred-year-old disconnect between our eyes and our brains, and it has turned openly violent once again. White supremacy is alive, supported by white politicians in positions of immense power, on a daily basis and — this may take you by surprise — by your white boss, by your white colleague and by your white friend.
The Lemon. A fruit of empire. We white people love squeezing it on unseasoned fish, wedging it in a plain chicken carcass before roasting.
In recent decades, white liberals have reacted to the harsh fact of historical racism by undertaking what they like to call “diversity” and “equality” work. This tokenistic project, which acknowledges racial inequality exists but insufficiently understands its source, has failed. Despite Black and Brown people appearing more regularly in the media, whiteness still calls the shots, has the last word. How can real change take place when the spaces in which we work are still white spaces? When the “diversity” project is complete, and there is “equal representation” between white people and people of colour, will the oppression end? No. Why? Because whiteness is a social force, not a skin colour.
The introduction of tropical flavours into British cuisine. The exoticisation of othered fruits. Not so lovely lemons.
Why not try having this conversation with the white people you know? Race is a grotesque fiction. Think of the way it organises our social world: white people at the centre of everything, dominating the politics and culture of what we clumsily call “The West”. White people run our institutions, our media. Since its invention in the 1600s, whiteness has nominated itself, violently, to the centre-ground of what it means to be human and we are blind to the full story of this history of oppression.
We accept whiteness as “normal” and “acceptable”, but it never has been, and never will be. We cannot create an anti-racist whiteness, because to be white is to be racist: whiteness was invented in order to justify white superiority, colonialism, the trans-Atlantic slave trade. To be properly anti-racist we must attack the identity that paved the way for racism: the social and political dominance of whiteness. Are you white and feel ignored, frustrated? Well this is your chance at real freedom. George Yancy, an American philosopher wrote, “The death of whiteness will mean more abundant life not only for Black people, but for white people as well.”
When Christopher Columbus arrived in the Americas in 1492, he planted lemon trees, which grew as indigenous people were murdered. Think of all those lemon trees in Florida and California, planted to prevent scurvy. But the scurvy was us.
The problem with the “diversity” approach is a problem of seeing. It puts forward the idea that if Black and Brown people are as visible as white people, the problem of racism will go away. (In fact, some people already think we live in a “post-race” world). This is us whites’ way of being “good whites”. We offer overly simple solutions to complex problems, so that we can look good while doing what we think is the right thing. We define the path to racial equality as a kind of cosmopolitan city street: a roughly equal amount of white, Black and Brown people. But what if the structure of the street itself is white? What if the paving stones are white property? What if, hidden below the surface of the liberal view of racial equity, white people are still in control?
Have you ever noticed curiously, how lemons preserve everything? Lemon trees can grow for 150 years, which is longer than the life span of a white person.
White people see with what cultural theorist Stuart Hall called a “white eye”. This is a form of looking that blinds us before we see. When we gaze upon Black and Brown bodies we do so with a mixture of fear and misunderstanding. We have been socially programmed to see people of colour as a threat. Why else do white police officers disproportionately stop young Black men in the street, harassing them, even shooting them? Why do we associate Brown people with terrorism, when most terrorist attacks are carried out by white people? Why are people of colour presented as visible because of their racialisation, whereas white people remain raceless? Why is a white success story labelled simply a “success story,” but Black success a “Black success story”?
For us white people to be able to untie ourselves from whiteness, we must first learn to see anew. It is time, my fellow whites, to make ourselves vulnerable, to undertake self-criticality beyond the liberal confines of anti-racism, and to understand the violent history of our own making.
Whiteness is a scurvy we do not know we have.
—
Note: The text can be performed by one or any number of people who identify as racially white. For full instructions and to receive a t-shirt(s) for the performer(s) to wear, contact me via email.
List of performances/publications to date:
This text was read/performed by Daniel C. Blight at the invitation of Abbas Zahedi, recipient of the Frieze Artist Award, at Frieze London, October 2022.
A version of this essay was published by Vogue Italia in November 2019.