Alcoholism, Racism and the Wilt Family

Alcoholism has long afflicted the Wilt side of my family, from at  least my great-grandfather to those struggling with it today. Many of us have been able to observe first-hand how alcoholism and other addictions affect those close to the addicted as well as the addicts themselves. Fear, anger, pity, cover-up, and distancing are some responses to a loved one’s addiction. The family swings back and forth between attempts to intervene and resignation. A successful intervention will help the addict admit that there is a problem, often after a low point even by the addict’s standards—a fight, crime, or accident—and accept help for the healing process. My grandfather’s response to alcoholism in his family was to insist on total abstinence and, as far as I know, most perhaps all of his nine children followed his model, the addiction awaiting the next generation to resurface. This family history has led me to think of alcoholism as primarily a snare for a few individuals within a large family. But I have recently learned of “alcoholic families.” Both mother and father are heavy drinkers and the children grow up thinking that the intake—and the results—are the norm. Heavy drinking, hilarity, fights, irresponsibility, self-justification, and earning enough money for heavy drinking, hilarity, etc. are what life is all about. If it’s hard to help an individual struggling with alcoholism, how much harder to help a whole family! 

There is another affliction that has been passed from generation to generation in the Wilt family: racism.  I observed and replicated the symptoms as a child, thinking them to be a normal part of any family. I would retell my uncles’ and aunts’ n- jokes to friends at school and they would reciprocate with ones I could tell at the next family reunion. I would laugh along with my cousins when an uncle flourished his n-shooter. In high school, I would sing songs with racist lyrics—and wonder why some would not join in. It was not until my college years that friends and teachers confronted me directly enough that I could begin to see that I had a problem—that my family had a problem, an addiction, a generational disease. With the help of many who were further along in the healing process and with the help of those who had been targets of racism, I could begin to heal.

Relatives’ Facebook posts over the past few years, especially after widely reported events such as the mid-August ones in Charlottesville, indicate that this disease has not yet been eradicated from our family. The symptoms are now not as obvious as in the family-reunion examples given above. They are more like an alcoholic’s quiet sipping of lemonade at a church picnic, yearning for the spouse’s signal that they can go home—and begin opening the bottles of the hard stuff.

In the past, I have started to write responses to Facebook posts that are especially troubling in this regard but given up. How, I wondered, could I respond in a way that would go beyond an exchange of emotional blows, beyond defensiveness or denial to constructive, healing discussion? I am hoping that the comparison of alcoholism and racism might be a helpful beginning. If we recognize that alcoholism has been a generational problem, can we recognize that racism has been as well? If so, can we take the crucial first step in the healing process of admitting that there is a problem? For many of us, “admitting” can be recast in stronger terms in keeping with our religious upbringing: confessing (verbal communication to others) and repenting (behavioral change, involving “turning away from” the destructive behavior).

To encourage dealing with this problem, I will suggest some symptoms of racism. Just as shaky hands are not necessarily a symptom of alcoholism, some features listed here might not necessarily be a symptom of racism. But as shaky hands combined with other symptoms such as dehydration, anxiety, irritability, and yearning for the next drink increase the likelihood that alcoholism is at play, so too the combination of factors listed below increase the likelihood that racism is at play. 

• Denial. Similar to “I’m not an alcoholic; I just like to drink.” is the claim “I’m not a racist but…” or “I’m not a white supremacist but…”  (To loosely quote one comedian: how at ease would you be if your daughter began to communicate about her first date by saying “He’s not a necrophiliac but…”?)  Or prejudice is denied when talking about race. Most, perhaps all, of us have been brought up with racial prejudices: racism nurtures rather than counteracts these prejudices (Viewing “The Hidden Prejudice” can be a helpful start in understanding the relationship between prejudice and racism; you yourself can take a test for racial prejudice at the Project Implicit website.)
• Defensiveness and deflection. The alcoholic might snap “Quit nagging at me! I make a little mistake and you make a big deal out of it. Be thankful I'm not like ___” Similarly, racism can be defended along the lines of  “Okay, the KKK is bad but what about communists!” There is more interest in defending oneself or one’s predecessors against charges of racism than in understanding racism in America.
• Memory loss. “I don’t remember anything about last night, so let’s just forget it.” America’s long history of slavery, dislocation, segregation, mass murder, and public humiliation of minorities is forgotten or claimed to be irrelevant to current situations.
• Isolation. “My drinking buddies are the only ones who understand me.” Churches—or other key social groups—that ignore, tolerate, or actively perpetuate racism are almost always led by white speakers who offer comforting messages in the wake of situations such as the Charlottesville one, without any identifiable steps being suggested or taken to counter racism. The rare one of another race or culture who is allowed to speak is carefully vetted to assure that s/he reinforces the community’s norms. Schools tolerating or perpetuating racism often have a percentage of whites much higher than the national norm. Racists will often have no ongoing, close personal relationships with a person of color. When’s the last time you had a person of color in your home for dinner?
• The shakes. Anger or fear is much greater when a person of Arabic origin plows into a crowd in Europe than when a white-supremacist does the same in our own country. A white person being unjustifiably killed by a black cop brings outrage; a black person being unjustifiably killed by a white cop—or even by a self-appointed vigilante, is considered a better option than the risk of diminishing law and order. Crossing paths with a person of different skin color, whether on the street or professionally, makes one more nervous than with someone of similar skin color.
• Confusion. “I thought the stoplight was for the other guy.” Sherriff Arpaio, found guilty of contempt for the judicial system while accused of racial profiling, is considered a hero;  Colin Kaepernick, kneeling on behalf of victims of injustice, is considered a villain.
• Irrationality. Obama’s “A More Perfect Union” speech is unknown or ignored if not vilified while Trump’s ongoing rhetoric is viewed as telling things as they are. White supremacists’ support of Trump does not trouble the conscience and his attacks on the press are applauded.
• Hiding. “I thought if I drank enough coffee, the alcohol would not affect me.” “I didn’t think they’d smell beer on my breath if I ate enough mints.” Religion is used to hide racism and other expressions of hatefulness.  Fundamentalist Christianity (as taught, for example, in Liberty University, Bob Jones University, and Dallas Theological Seminary) is highly similar to fundamentalist Islam in stressing identity statements of “belief,” claiming that these identity statements are based on the only valid interpretation of a holy book, spiritualizing texts such as “Love your neighbor” and the parable of the good Samaritan to justify rigid group boundaries, condemning those who do not accept their beliefs, agenda, and actions, and ignoring their holy book's calls for justice and expressions of outrage against oppression, favoring militant nationalism, and dehumanizing others.
• Yearning for the next drink. Giving up on a balanced diet, one drinks in news, Facebook posts, and sermons that dull understanding of different points of view. 
• Irritability. Favorite programs and posts frequently use outrage rhetoric (yelling, belittling, name-calling, over-simplification, slippery-slope arguments, fear-mongering, etc.).
• Slurred language. “English Only” is supported and hearing people speaking different languages in one’s home area is upsetting.
• Combativeness. One could have walked hand-in-hand with the white supremacists in Charlottesville—or at least supports or excuses those who did.

How willing are we to admit that racism in our family has contributed to symptoms such as the above?  Can we develop a dialogue about this? Can we at least “admit there is a problem”?
I am not restricting this to descendants of the Paul Wilt clan since there are certainly many other families who suffer from generational racism. I hope that this post may be a first or further step in the healing process.  

​While writing this post, I tried to find other literature comparing alcoholism and racism. There is much on how the one can contribute to the other, but I have so far found only one book that focuses on how racism is analogous to alcoholism: Applying Alcoholics Anonymous Principles to the Disease of Racism by Rev. Kenneth L. Radcliffe, “an Administrative Chaplain, (Retired), for the New York City Department of Correction. His assignments included Rikers Island, detention centers, in the Bronx, Brooklyn, and Manhattan Detention Center, MDC, also known as "The Tombs" He is a trained Substance Abuse/Addictions counselor. He has worked as a Case Manager in a Homeless Shelter, and conducted relapse prevention programs for licensed outpatient drug and alcohol treatment programs.”