By Terry Manning
I just started Roland Martin’s book, White Fear: How the Browning of America Is Making White Folks Lose Their Minds, and it’s an interesting mix of revelation, reflection and resignation.
I will probably write about it in a future column, but the title alone made me stop and wonder, how different would our lives be if we could live in a world without fear?
I’m not talking about the essential caution that keeps us from wrangling poisonous snakes, jumping out of planes or walking mindlessly into busy traffic (though there are people who do some or all of these). I’m talking about fear of things that don’t exist, baseless fears that drive us to treat and mistreat each other in ways that harm both the perpetrator and the victim of so many fearful acts.
Too often we encounter things we don’t understand, decide we don’t like them, and then make up excuses to rationalize our aversions. We tell ourselves these things we don’t understand are abnormal or dangerous. Rather than inform ourselves in ways that might alleviate our concerns, we make up talking points we share with others so they can adopt and disseminate.
It’s not enough that we don’t like these things, we have to make sure that others don’t like them either. Subconsciously or not, we try to galvanize opinion and form coalitions. We push for a critical mass until, suddenly, the thing we tell ourselves is a threat becomes … the threatened.
How much money is spent preparing to confront people and things we fear? How much physical exertion? How much emotional energy and mental strain?
There’s a perspective I have as a Black man living in this country, having to endure the swirling and often contradictory sensations of being watched, judged, measured, hyped, belittled, rejected and ignored, often in rapid succession. It’s true some of these are just a part of life, but any Black person will tell you there’s an extra … something … that comes with our skin tone. An extra weight.
But I also think about the line of people outside the gun store I used to drive past every day on my way to my job. It was March 2020, and the COVID-19 pandemic had not even taken hold yet. I would think to myself, what good is a gun against a virus? But the bullets weren’t intended for germs, were they?
I think of schoolchildren who have never known a time when the most serious threat practiced was a tornado drill, with them sitting in a hallway with a textbook over their heads.
I think of good-natured, well-intentioned people I’ve met whose faces turn dark when they talk about stashing dry goods and ammo for “when everything goes to hell.”
I think of the gap between people who enjoy or ignore TV shows like “RuPaul’s Drag Race” and those who crowd school boards haranguing members about the perceived dangers of men in makeup and dresses reading Dr. Seuss to students.
I think of politicians who demonize homosexuals for political gain. Would there ever have been an HIV crisis if it hadn’t been called a “gay man’s disease” when it came to public attention?
I think of white people being comfortable enough to talk about race and biases without fear of consequence. A closed mind is like a clenched fist. Nothing gets out, but nothing can get in, either.
I think of Saturday evenings when seniors watched Lawrence Welk, The Grand Ole Opry and “Hee-Haw” instead of Greg Gutfeld and NewsMax.
I think of women being able to control their bodies because others weren’t panicked about having enough working-class bodies to keep propping up the elites.
I think of families being able to feed their children healthy food and getting them needed medical care without worrying about going bankrupt.
I think of Christians bringing others to salvation without judgment or threats of hellfire.
I think of fishing without having to question mercury levels and breathing where the only concern is pollen.
I think of how different our immigration policies would be if immigrants weren’t constantly fleeing from one threat to another.
I think of how much we could accomplish together if we weren’t preoccupied inventing reasons to stay apart.
I think of how a better day isn’t that far from being real, if only our leaders listened to the majority instead of the loud-mouthed minority and their fat-cat donors.
I think of a world without fear and I note who is trying to help build it and those who profit by keeping us living in terror of each other.
Terry E. Manning is a Clemson graduate and worked for 20 years as a journalist. He can be reached at teemanning@gmail.com.
