Anyone who is paying attention has heard by now about Elliot Rodger's killing rampage in
Rodger was a white-identified
male. I know he was technically bi-racial. His writings and videos, however, leave little doubt which
half of his lineage he identified with and which half have he found despicable.
Moreover, his whiteness formed the basis for his feelings of entitlement to the
attention of white women and the homicidal resentment he felt when he saw white
women hanging out with men of color. In addition, the intersection of his
whiteness and his social class were decisive in shaping the way he was treated
by the system. One particular incident speaks volumes about the way whiteness
(mal)functioned in the weeks leading up to the tragedy.
Either a friend of Rodger or his therapist or someone from
his family contacted either the police of the county mental health service because
of his disturbing social media posts. Media reports about this notification are
vague and inconsistent, but it is clear that the notification did take place
because it prompted the police to visit Rodger's apartment on April 30th, one
month before the shootings. The police spoke briefly to Rodger at his front
door and then departed, having concluded that he did not meet the criteria for
an involuntary mental health hold. Sheriff's officials claim that the officers,
"handled the call in a professional manner consistent with state law and
department policy."
Let me state, for the record, that I have no quarrel with
this official account. Indeed, my critique hinges on the fact that this tragedy happened despite everyone doing what they were supposed to do. Let's begin with the offhand way Santa Barbara County Sheriff Bill Brown defended the actions of his officers. Brown said,
that when the officers spoke to Rodger at his front door, "He was
articulate. He was polite. He was timid." Brown did not say, nor did he
need to say, why these factors were considered relevant. Their job, I assume, was
to investigate the possibility that Rodger was planning to harm himself or
others. What does that have to do with him being articulate, polite, and timid?
What if he had been inarticulate, or worse, belligerent, or worse yet black (in
which case just being on your front porch may make you suspicious)? Would
any of those factors have made him seem more like a threat to himself or others?
From what the Sheriff said, it seems that, simply by adhering to the white
social norms that signal respectability and self-possession to white-dominated
institutions like law enforcement, Rodger was able to override legitimate
concerns about his mental health.
Interpersonal whiteness was not the only factor at play,
however. Another way Rodger's whiteness protected/doomed him was in terms of his
mental health history. Among the reasons cited by authorities for not detaining
him was that he had no criminal record or history of mental health crises. But
of course he did have a history, one that reflected his race and class
privilege. The fact that he had access to private
treatment meant that he was able to avoid leaving precisely the sort of
institutional track record that would have given the police a legal basis to take
more action. It is highly unlikely that a low income man of color with mental
health issues could reach 22 years old without having been branded in some way
by the system. When people of color are dealing with mental health challenges,
school systems often respond with harsh
discipline. Behaviors such as truancy
and addiction are often criminalized, resulting in young people becoming fodder
for the school
to prison pipeline. Obviously, I'm not suggesting that the system works for
youth of color. Mostly the system works for white people, but, in this case,
the privileges of luxury, privacy, and autonomy that go with whiteness simply
backfired, taking seven people out in the process.
Finally, we must consider how whiteness protected/doomed Rodger
by allowing him to avoid having his home searched by law enforcement. Under
prevailing law, the police not only did not have probable cause to seek a
search warrant, they could
not have confiscated his guns even if they had found them. However, anyone
familiar with the way the war on drugs is waged
or the stop
and frisk practices of big city police departments knows that affluent
white communities and low income communities of color are subjected to different
standards of probable cause. While the concerns of Rodger's family and therapist
about his mental health apparently did not justify searching his home or taking
his weapons, in communities of color, all it takes is a tip from an anonymous
informant to trigger a SWAT
team raid. Indeed, police often end up breaking down the wrong
doors, terrorizing and injuring innocent families based on these notoriously
unreliable tips. I want to be clear, though, that this double standard is not simply
about racist police forces. It is the end product of a complex set of laws and
practices that has its roots, ultimately, in the politics of white
privilege.
At the risk of putting too fine a point on my argument, let
me just spell it out. I am not saying that the white male privilege or misogyny
or racism or bad policing or the under-funded mental health system caused the Isla
Vista tragedy. It was all of them plus everything else. And, at
least part of what made it difficult for anyone to intervene, was the system of
visible and invisible protections and privileges afforded to Rodger in virtue
of his whiteness. Given that mass shootings committed by alienated, resentful,
and aggrieved white men are becoming part of normal life in America, it might
be time to consider whether this system, which we white people set up to
protect us from scary black and brown others, can protect us from the monsters
of our own creation.
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