It’s been all over the news for the past two weeks — after two years, we’ve finally been able to discover who exactly were the alleged “royal racists,” who expressed “concerns” over “how dark” the skin color of Prince Harry and Meghan’s firstborn child, Archie, might be.
The subsequent uproar was, if not surprising, then certainly loud and boisterous, with every journalistic voice imaginable clamoring for the central spot from which to call out the guilty parties and publicly punishing them with millions of globally pointed virtual fingers.
Because this is what a racist deserves — we must out the slimy demon and brutally exterminate it as thoroughly as possible, not only because of its atrocity, but especially for the sake of protecting our own pristine commitments to social justice and equality.
But that racist demon is too often not visible. It is deftly hiding in the dark cracks and crannies of the minds of millions, in places that we cannot see, in places sometimes we don’t even know exist, and would be shocked and mortified to realize. As long as it can be invisible, deeply hidden from prying eyes, it is secure, returning to the light only with great care, only when absolute safety is assured, or else with a violent, unrecognized and unexpected suddenness that is disavowed only with great difficulty. Sadly, it exists, and even the most innocent among us have not and cannot escape being, and having been, touched by it. From this perspective, “concerns” can mean many things to many people. But there is no time to think in any instance of public accusation where race is involved, as we must hurry to cancel lest we be somehow discovered and canceled ourselves.
This is its power — that no one can actually see into the mind of another. We can only assume what is there through external proofs, like behavior, actions, expressed beliefs, certain kinds of silence, the language we use and how we use it.