The other day, an ad for the movie “Love Hurts” showed up on my Facebook feed. For a moment, I thought the main actor was Jackie Chan, but then realized it was someone else, an actor named Ke Huy Quan. Someone in the comments wondered why they thought he was Jackie Chan, and I commented that it was probably because they were both Chinese. Shortly thereafter, I was corrected by a random stranger, who informed me that he was Vietnamese, adding, “Don’t be a racist.”
That comment really threw me. I had an almost visceral reaction to the statement. I did not like it at all! At the same time, my logical brain was puzzled; why was I reacting so strongly? Normally the things people say about me online—especially if they are strangers—don’t bother me. So why did this comment bother me so much?
Conscientious human that I try to be, I decided to be vulnerable and asked my friends on social media if I was actually being racist. A couple of them explained that it could be considered racist to assume someone’s race, which is fair. One of them even posted a funny video that expounded on the problem. Another friend who knows me well pointed out that I am definitely not one of those people who assumes that every Asian is Chinese, any more than I would assume that every Hispanic is from Mexico. With this in mind, she looked up the actor’s heritage, and discovered that although he was born in Vietnam, his ancestry is actually from China. Further research uncovered the fact that he had actually played Chinese characters in several movies. So although I did not know that he was born in Vietnam, I was not wrong in calling him Chinese.
The validation felt good, but I still wondered why some random stranger on Facebook calling me a racist had bothered me so much. Apparently my brain was working on it while I slept, because I woke up in the middle of the night with the answer. By calling me a racist, that stranger had not called into question my actions, but my intrinsic identity—or at least, that’s what it felt like. They did not say, “Do not make racist comments.” If they had, it would have been easy to own the fact that I had made a mistake. But instead of pointing out my behavior, their cynical comment felt like an attack on my identity. Ask any of my friends who know me well, and racist will not be anywhere on the list of ways that they characterize me. In fact, I take pride in how not racist I am. Not being racist is part of my identity, and someone attacking my identity felt truly scary. It made it hard to hear what they meant.
Once I realized why I had reacted so strongly to the strangers comment, I was able to let it go. But it got me thinking about other places where people label someone’s identity instead of simply calling out their behavior. Censorship of behavior can lead to guilt, which is healthy, because it can prompt a person to make efforts to change their behavior. But labeling someone’s identity is actually shaming, because how can you change who you are?
Guilt Vs. Shame
There is a significant difference between guilt and shame. This isn’t just semantics or fancy rhetoric. The difference between guilt and shame is found in the contrast between behavior and identity. According to Dr. Brené Brown, famous shame researcher, “Guilt is, ‘I did something bad.’ Shame is, ‘I am bad.’ ” Good people sometimes make mistakes, but those mistakes don’t make them bad people. What we do habitually comes out of our identity. A generally honest person might tell a lie once, but that doesn’t make them a liar. On the other hand, there are people who lie chronically. A kid who once stole a candy bar on a dare is a far cry from a kleptomaniac who steals from their classmates or coworkers every day. There is a big difference between a bigoted racist and a person who makes an ignorantly racist comment, like I did.
What we call people matters. Kind or neutral identity labels like friend or physician’s assistant are helpful. Calling people unkind names is not, even if their behavior is consistent enough to deserve the label. Let’s say a person posts a racist meme on their public social media page. Pointing out that their meme is racist is calling out the behavior, and that is fair, especially if it’s public. But if you call them a racist, all you will do is make them defensive, and they won’t be able to hear you over the ad hominem argument.
What is an ad hominem argument? An ad hominem argument is a logical fallacy that happens when the person making the argument attacks the character of the person with whom they have a disagreement, instead of attacking that person’s ideas. This happens from time to time on my Facebook page. Recently some random stranger was commenting on a post I had made, in which he called all of the people on the left hypocrites and other derogatory terms. His pattern when he disagrees with a statement I make, is not to present facts or argue why he thinks the statement is incorrect, but rather to attack the people who support the statement. That a classic example of the ad hominem logical fallacy, and it has no place in frank and honest discussion.
Homophobia
One of my passions is being an ally for people in the LGBTQ community. One aspect of being an ally is standing up against homophobia and all the prejudice that goes along with it. Yet while I may call out homophobic behavior, I would never call them a homophobe or even a homophobic person. I do not know their heart any more than that random strange on Facebook who called me a racist knew mine. I can only judge the fruit, which is what Christians are supposed to judge (See Matthew 7:15–20). I can judge behavior and call it out, but I cannot judge the person. If I call someone a homophobe, they may have such a strong reaction that they will not be able to hear anything else I might say. If they feel that I am attacking their identity, I will have lost any influence I could have had if I had avoided name-calling.
The truth is, anyone can accidentally exhibit homophobic behavior, even if they are a heterosexual ally that advocates for equity and inclusion, or even if they are gay themselves. I have heard so many gay people talk about struggling with their own internalized homophobia. With this in mind, it behooves us to have grace, and to keep a close eye on our own behaviors. Here are a few examples of homophobic behavior to watch out for:
- Making derogatory comments about a person’s gender or sexual orientation
- Using slurs or calling them names
- Excluding someone because of their sexual identity, or otherwise discriminating against them
- Bullying gay people, even in subtle ways
If you see these behaviors, by all means call the behavior out. Rather than saying, “You’re such a homophobe,” say, “Calling that person a hypocrite is unkind.” Even if the other person is name calling and generally being rude, don’t stoop to their level. Take the high road. Call out the behavior. If it persists, do what you need to do for your own sanity and mental health, and unfollow or unfriend or block them as needed. But whatever you do, do not attack their identity. Doing so only destroys your own influence over them and others. It matters not how just your cause is; supporting it within invalid methods does nothing to further your mission. Remember, the person you disagree with is human too. They are a mother or a daughter or a son or a husband or father. They were created in God‘s image, just like you and I were. And for that, they deserve to be shown respect. Disagree with their ideas, sure. But never attack them. It will only bring you down to their level if you do.
If you struggle with those who exhibit homophobic behavior because you are part of the LGBTQ community or love someone who is—or if you realize that you might be exhibiting it yourself and just want to do better—reach out to me. I would love to talk to you!
