Fear Lies at the Heart of Opposition to ‘Political Correctness’

There is a theory about “political correctness” – one hewed to by Donald Trump and his legions of fans – that is based on the assumption that everyone is actually racist and sexist, but that they are too cowed by women and people of color to say what they really think. The conceit is that no one really believes the “politically correct” things we all say, but we’ve somehow arrived at a tacit agreement not to say them.

The reality, though, is that the term “political correctness” has been co-opted and redefined, eroded in meaning to the point that the kindest interpretation merely implies being “oversensitive”, which is still dangerous and stunted.

If we are living in a time when racial, cultural and gender awareness is synonymous with being oversensitive, then we are in pretty deep trouble. And if the antithesis of some dreaded oversensitivity is spewing vile, hateful and venomous rhetoric about people who are leading movements both big and small to strengthen and enhance all of humanity, then, at a bare minimum, we are going to need a little more sensitivity.

But there is the fear of “political correctness”, and then there is the reality of what’s considered politically acceptable. It is not politically correct to recognize and honor the lives of undocumented immigrants and their children in this day and age; Republican candidates have been forced out of the presidential race for far less.

It is not politically correct to object to the gender pay gap; there’s a whole conservative cottage industry dedicated to proving there is no pay gap.

It is not politically correct to highlight the fact that black and brown people are violently profiled, discriminated against and underrepresented in government and industry; young black activists who have protested on our streets and rallied on social media have been arrested, had their patriotism and motives questioned even in the mainstream media and even shouted at by crowds of liberals.

It is not politically correct to ensure that transgender people are the arbiters of their own experience, and believe that they should be deferred to on matters of their safety and livelihood; students, with their parents’ support, have been applauded for trying to restrict a transgender classmate’s access to the bathroom, and liberals and conservatives alike feel free to openly question transgender people’s right to exist at all.

It’s also not rocket science that we ought to be sensitive to these issues. It’s being a decent human; it’s shifting paradigms; it’s working to change our culture so that there is equity and equality for everyone.

I understand that it’s not always easy to demand actual political correctness from others. During a recent tour of a potential middle school for my son – while parents were asking questions about homework and high school prep courses – I wondered if there were any immediate plans to make the school’s currently gender binary bathrooms gender neutral. Not because my son is transgender or gender fluid, but because I have friends and colleagues who are. I didn’t ask, though, out of concern that I might come across as too “politically correct”.

I’m already perceived by many white parents in my neighborhood as a militant racial justice warrior for speaking out and loudly about proper racial representation and inclusion in certain Brooklyn public schools. So I stayed quiet because given the tenor of the crowd – one parent said, after asking about the policy on hand-holding: “I don’t care if they’re going through puberty, you have to nip that sexuality in the bud” – it didn’t seem like the right moment for a conversation about gender neutral bathrooms.

Being “politically correct” has had consequences for me before. Last year I had a friendship collapse over the use of the word “hobo” – I felt my friend was being too facile in her definition (“a bum with a handkerchief tied to a stick”), she felt I was being too politically correct by suggesting that the term was offensive to actual homeless people.

There are members of my (white) family who refuse to talk to me about race because they do not think of it as part of the national conversation that it is and needs to be, but believe that I’m demanding that they feel badly about being white.

The people who cling to the idea that “political correctness” is a bad thing are afraid: afraid of how they’ll be perceived by those less reverent to outdated hierarchies, afraid of the power that true equality can give the historically disenfranchised, afraid of having been wrong. But if we know nothing else about America, we know that we can make space for everyone; we know that equality of opportunity was never meant to be an empty phrase.

The well of opportunity will not run dry if we learn what “PGP” means (preferred gender pronoun) and start using them; the economy won’t collapse if we get rid of a racist NFL team name and logo, take down the Confederate flag; people will still fall in love and get married and have kids if we stop using the word “tomboy” or referring to sexually active adult women as “sluts”. We are more interesting and nuanced as a culture and a society when we both recognize and value our variances and seek to include rather than exclude.

Right now, that feels a little politically incorrect to say.

Rebecca Carroll is a Guardian US contributing opinion writer and the director of digital media and marketing at Scenarios USA. She is the author of several nonfiction books, including Saving The Race and Sugar In The Raw. Follow her on Twitter: @rebel19

This piece was reprinted by EmpathyEducates with permission or license. We thank Rebecca Carroll for her kindness and for inviting us to look at our “perceptions” and how these affect our conversations. We also wish to express our appreciation for The Guardian for being an enduring source of information and ideas.