When people say they believe a particular institution is racist, or are convinced that they, their children or others have been treated unfairly for reasons of color — by educators or the police or anyone else — I'm in no position to disagree with what's in their hearts. My history is not theirs; their shoes are not mine, and if that is what they sincerely believe, that is what they sincerely believe.
What I can do, however, if I disagree with their views about the presence or power of race in particular situations, is to explain, with full appreciation for centuries of sinful American history, why I believe their arguments are faulty on the facts or excessive in gravity.
For instance, I don't believe the Minneapolis Public Schools, for all their troubles and shortcomings, are choking miasmas of institutional racism. Big-city school districts tend to be as "enlightened" and "correct" on matters of race, gender and the like as any institution.
Many students are doing poorly and dropping out, not because of any embedded racism, but because they don't take their schoolwork seriously enough, and because too much family breakdown in the Twin Cities means that too few homes are sufficiently conducive to academic effort and achievement.
More broadly, I agree with a colleague who argues that while racism in Minnesota and the United States is wide, rarely is it any longer deep.
As for questions of gravity, recall how it came to light a few months ago that reading books intended for young children featured offensively stereotypical characters: a black girl named "Lazy Lucy" and an American Indian girl named "Neiko, the Hunting Girl."
Did those books deserve to be tossed? Without question. But did the screw-up by Minneapolis school officials rise to a level warranting demonstrations closing down a school board meeting? Not nearly. Might potential school board members of major accomplishment, perhaps men and women equipped to bring world-class business savvy to the Minneapolis Public Schools, have said to themselves: "Who needs any of this? No way will I ever run."
Or recall when Bernadeia Johnson, a former superintendent of MPS — who's African-American and grew up in Selma, Ala. — was called "Jim Crow" by disoriented African-American critics and was accused of treating "black kids like cotton."