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Male, Pale, and Stale: The Enduring Struggle for Racial Equality in America

Javar Juarez dives into the racial inequalities that persist throughout America

by Javar Juarez (CUBNSC) Columbia, S.C.


In a candid conversation with Roland Martin, renowned anti-racism educator Jane Elliott delivered a scathing critique of the state of American politics, particularly in the aftermath of the 2024 election. Elliott’s words highlighted the undercurrents of racial tension and fear that have defined this election cycle, pointing to the resurgence of support for Donald Trump as symptomatic of a nation grappling with its racial past and future.


90 year old Jane Elliott discusses racism in America

"What happened on Tuesday," Elliott said, "is that citizens of the United States of America decided to listen to a racist, sexist, crafty crook who has no business being in the presidency of the United States of America." According to Elliott, the results of this election reflect not just a political decision but a broader social anxiety—a fear harbored by the demographic she calls “male, pale, and stale.” This group, she asserts, is fearful of losing its longstanding numerical and cultural dominance in a rapidly diversifying America.


Elliott is not alone in pointing out this anxiety. For decades, sociologists and historians have noted that as white Americans face the reality of becoming a minority group, many cling more tightly to their sense of racial superiority, a sentiment with deep historical roots. This fear has fueled an embrace of divisive and reactionary politics, driving segments of American society to support candidates who pledge to restore an idealized version of a "great" America that, in reality, marginalized and oppressed large segments of its population.


Historical Roots of Racial Division

Americas first government The Virginia House of Burgesses

The roots of America’s racial hierarchy are centuries deep, woven into the very laws and social fabric of colonial America. In the 1600s, as African people began arriving in large numbers as enslaved laborers, colonial legislators moved to cement their status as property. Laws were crafted to differentiate the rights and identities of Black people from their European counterparts, thereby establishing a racial caste system that would endure for generations.


Enslaved Black women in America gave birth to enslaveable children, even if the fathers were white. In disregarding English legal tradition, the colonists adopted the Roman principle of partus sequitur ventrem. That is, translated, "the offspring follows the belly" was used to determine the ownership of animals. Just as a litter of pigs belonged to its owner, so did the children born to Black women, who were the property of their mother’s enslaver.


The law allowed white men to profit from their sexual assaults on Black women. Freed from the concern that their mixed-race offspring might claim freedom, white men could rape enslaved women with impunity, reinforcing their domination while increasing their wealth. Their control over Black women's bodies was essential in creating a permanent labor supply. As Jeffrey J. Pokorak describes, this legalized exploitation established racial victim disparities within the justice system and ingrained economic advantages for white men. By denying mixed-race children any legal status beyond enslavement, the system bolstered the racial hierarchy and deepened the oppression of Black women.


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White enslavers crafted what Lydia Maria Child, a Massachusetts abolitionist, called a "convenient game," allowing them to enrich themselves through exploitation. This game did more than uphold racial inequities; it helped invent the concept of race itself. Legislators in Virginia, for instance, determined the status of Black women's children, yet pretended slave status was an inherited identity. Through laws like the 1663 statute in Virginia, followed by a similar law in Maryland in 1664, slavery became a hereditary condition across colonial America. These laws cast Black women's wombs as perpetuators of their children's subjugated status, creating a racial classification that falsely appeared as natural.



The Politics of Fear and White Fragility


White men represents a hateful, violent group and at the same time weak, vulnerable and fragile

Elliott argues that the recent political shift represents a clinging to these racial and social hierarchies. White men, particularly those who feel they are losing their grip on the American social order, have reacted with fear, anger, and resentment. The emergence of far-right sentiment within Latino communities, who support candidates like Trump, further underscores the complexities of identity and assimilation in America. Paola Ramos, author of Defectors, highlights how some Latino voters may align with far-right ideologies as they grapple with "tribalism, traditionalism, and trauma."


Latino men and Asians showed overwhelming support for Donald Trump in this election.


This internalized racism, rooted in colonial-era values, can cause non-Black minority communities to adopt a form of “fantasy heritage,” seeking acceptance from the dominant white culture at the expense of solidarity with Black and Indigenous communities. It’s a disturbing phenomenon, one that underscores how racial hierarchies not only harm Black people but also entangle other communities of color in a cycle of self-oppression and aspiration toward whiteness.


The Special Bond Between Black Men and Black Women

There is a special relationship between a Black man and a Black woman that cannot be broken

While segments of society cling to outdated racial constructs, the election saw a strong, renewed commitment from Black men to support Black women in positions of power. In this election, Black men overwhelmingly cast their votes in support of Kamala Harris, underscoring a recognition of the crucial role Black women play in the community. Black men understand that empowering Black women does not diminish Black masculinity but rather strengthens the entire community. For Black men, the success and leadership of Black women represent a continuation of a long struggle for dignity and equality in a society that often demeans them both.


This solidarity stands in stark contrast to the historical mistreatment of Black women, who for centuries were viewed as the property of white men. Laws like the Racial Integrity Act enforced racial lines that simultaneously commodified and controlled Black women’s bodies, a legacy of brutality that has never been fully addressed by the American legal system. Even today, Black women continue to face systemic violence, policing of their bodies, and a legacy of exclusion from the protections afforded to white women.


History in America seems to be repeating itself, as white women confront the consequences of voting against their own interests. In the latest election, 52% of white women cast their votes for Donald Trump, despite his open support for stacking the Supreme Court and overturning five decades of legal protections for women. This voting pattern raises critical questions about the choices and priorities influencing their decisions.


Meanwhile, Black men have consistently stood by Black women, affirming that their love, support, and importance are unwavering, beyond the reach of political influence. Despite figures like Barack Obama, who criticized Black men as unsupportive or even sexist toward Vice President Harris, Black men have shown up as steadfast allies. Their commitment to uplifting Black women is a testament to the strength and unity within the Black family, proving that this bond is not up for negotiation.


The Battle Over History and Memory

The National Archives Museum, under the leadership of U.S. Archivist Colleen Shogan and her top advisers at the National Archives and Records Administration, has allegedly modified planned and existing exhibits involving subjects like the government’s treatment of Native Americans and the history of birth control medication in favor of more anodyne subjects, according to numerous anonymous staffers speaking to the Wall Street Journal, which broke the story.

Elliott’s perspective highlights a fundamental truth: America’s understanding of its racial history is deeply flawed. American education continues to gloss over the brutal realities of slavery, segregation, and systemic racism. This selective memory not only distorts history but also deprives Americans of the understanding needed to address present-day racial inequities.


A comprehensive understanding of America’s racial history would reveal that today’s disparities are not accidents but the outcomes of centuries of deliberate policies and practices. By refusing to confront this legacy, America traps itself in a cycle of injustice, continually “fixing people instead of addressing the historically rooted causes of their problems.”


History has taught us that Black Americans have long been some of the most patriotic citizens, fighting in every American war, contributing to the culture, and supporting democratic ideals even as these ideals were denied to them. The irony of this commitment is underscored by the fact that, time and again, Black Americans have had to fight not only for themselves but for the very soul of a nation built on their labor.


This election has brought a renewed urgency to the fight for racial justice. The dangers of electing leaders who dismiss racial equity, downplay racial history, and exploit racial fears are too significant to ignore. While Donald Trump continues to disrespect our dedicated military service members by calling them "suckers," the real “suckers” are those who believe that voting for hate-filled, divisive rhetoric will bring them security. True security and strength lie in unity and in dismantling the artificial boundaries that have divided Americans for centuries.


Black men and women, standing together in solidarity, have demonstrated the power of resilience and love. They are a testament to the strength that can be found not in division, but in the struggle for equality and justice for all Americans. This election has shown that America’s racial wounds are still deep, but it has also shown that the desire for healing and progress is just as powerful. As we move forward, let us carry Jane Elliott’s words as a call to action—a reminder that understanding our past is essential to building a more just and equitable future.





Reference:


Berry, Daina Ramey, and Kali Nicole Gross. A Black Women’s History of the United States. Boston: Beacon, 2020.


Camp, Stephanie M. H. “Early European Views of African Bodies: Beauty.” In Sexuality and Slavery: Reclaiming Intimate Histories in the Americas, edited by Daina Ramey Berry and Leslie M. Harris, University of Georgia Press, 2018.


Child, Lydia Maria. Quoted in Freedman, Estelle B. Redefining Rape. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2013.


Jordan, Winthrop D. White Over Black: American Attitudes Toward the Negro, 1150-1812. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1968.


Pokorak, Jeffrey J. “Rape as a Badge of Slavery: The Legal History of, and Remedies for, Prosecutorial Race of Victim Charging Disparities.” Nevada Law Journal, vol. 7, no. 1, 2006, pp. 8-9.


White, Deborah Gray. Ar’n’t I A Woman? New York: Norton, 1985.




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