Volume II: Fueling Fear: The Role of Language in Unmasking Implicit Bias
Tuesdays are boring. Mondays mourn the passing of the weekend, while Wednesdays mark the halfway point to finishing the weekly grind. However, September 10th was an exceptional Tuesday because it was the date of the 2024 Presidential Debate. I waited for the stream to begin, and my daughter expressed interest in watching with me. We made popcorn and settled down for what would surely be an exciting debate. Nearly thirty minutes in, we gasped in shock when Trump stated, "In Springfield, they're eating the dogs, the people that came in. They're eating the cats. They're eating - they're eating the pets of the people that live there" (“ABC News Presidential Debate: Harris and Trump Meet in Philadelphia,” 29:32-44). My 9-year-old looked at me, horrified, and I had to explain the absurdity of the claim. Trump used false, hyperbolic language as a fear tactic to sway voters. He was tapping into the implicit racial bias that has existed in our country since its inception. The trouble with implicit bias is that it's unconsciously rooted in stereotypes many of us hold. It lies dormant like a sleeper cell, waiting for code words to activate.
Millions of Americans readily accepted Trump’s statement as fact and amplified this rumor on a national stage. In “Politics and The English Language,” George Orwell explains a facet of this trend: “But if thought corrupts language, language can also corrupt thought. A bad usage can spread by tradition and imitation, even among people who should and do know better” (Orwell). It’s been only 158 years since slavery was abolished. At 78 years old, Trump was born just shy of the midpoint between the abolition of slavery and today. His rhetoric actively corrupted the thoughts of his listeners, distorted their perception of reality, and reinforced unconscious racial stereotypes. Although most Americans aren’t overtly racist, our unconscious bias primes us to accept blatant stereotypes on a conscious level. Springfield, Ohio, has become home to thousands of Haitian immigrants. They are here under legally protected status, and there has been no evidence to support they are eating pets. They fled their country because they were subject to widespread violence. Now, after Trump's blatant lies, Haitian immigrants in Springfield are facing bomb threats from individuals emboldened by his rhetoric. With one false, nonsensical statement, the real danger emerged—an irony our nation could not overlook. As Trump attempted to paint Haitians as treacherous pet eaters, his words incited tangible threats to the Springfield community.
Trump’s statement was effective because many Americans harbor unconscious racism, emerging from the shadows of their psyche to influence beliefs and actions. His words fed this bias and encouraged supporters to bring it to the surface. This shows how embedded stereotypes can shape our perceptions of marginalized groups. Abelardo ‘Lalo’ Delgado highlights this effect in a poem, “Stupid America.” Delgado’s words reflect the reality of minorities living in America—where implicit bias distorts perceptions of Chicanos, assuming violence when there is none: “stupid america, see that / chicano / with a big knife / on his steady hand / he doesn’t want to knife you / he wants to sit on a bench / and carve christfigures / but you won’t let him” (Delgado, lines 1-8). Delgado notes that Americans often assume Chicanos have nefarious intentions when they are simply engaging in their craft. He describes how Chicano artists failing classes are seen as ignorant, and poets reciting stanzas on the corner are perceived as hysterical (Delgado 2004). They could enrich our country with masterful art and literature if we could overcome the fear that racial bias instills.
Language allows us to communicate hope, pain, and the longing to see people treated as equals. It can also ignite fear and hate in the world, harming and ostracizing racial minorities. None of us are impervious to its influence, and the stirring of emotion in response to language is part of what makes us human. However, if we are unaware of the intention behind those words, the response it incites can make us inhumane. American politicians like Trump have their finger on the pulse of implicit bias, and we cannot allow them to use it to hijack our charity. Too many people give them the benefit of the "doubt" and rationalize their behavior in some form. To those people, I have one question: have you ever heard these politicians complain about European (white) immigrants? The conversation has shifted away from "illegal" migrants and is now targeting non-white immigrants, like the Haitians in Springfield. As Americans, we face a choice: to extinguish incendiary language or to let it consume our humanity. Our responsibility is to challenge harmful rhetoric and strive for a future in which understanding and empathy triumph over fear and division.
An Author’s Reflection: Language, Fear, and Hope
During the fall semester of 2024, while taking both a race and ethnic relations class and English 101, I found myself in the unique position of exploring the intersection of these topics during an election year with Trump running. My interest in politics and social issues, combined with the perspective gained from my race and ethnic relations class, culminated in this fiery piece of writing. Watching the debate, I was struck by the implications of his rhetoric, and when we received the prompt to create our own writing situation, I knew I had my topic.
Although a Works Cited page wasn’t required this semester, I met with my professor to challenge myself by including one and introducing the debate as a source. I viewed this essay as an introduction to gathering and integrating sources and preparing for further research in English 102. In the future, I plan to expand on this piece by citing additional sources, particularly to challenge the idea that immigrants are inherently dangerous, and to incorporate scholarly studies on implicit bias and its deep entrenchment in our society.
I also plan to be more mindful of those who may disagree. I tend to have an overly blunt communication style, which is something my own essay would argue against. It’s important to remember that everyone has a voice that is just as important to them as mine is to me. Coming from a family that expresses overtly racist views rooted in bias—views I once shared—I recognize the discomfort that comes with admitting to holding harmful beliefs. Empathizing with that dissonance could make my work more impactful and relatable.
