Contradiction of a Modern-Day Colonizer

Racism, Contradiction, and Social Reproduction

According to Memmi (1965), the colonizer who seeks to justify their privilege faces an agonizing contradiction: on one hand, the colonizer desires to eliminate the colonized as a reminder of inequality, yet on the other, the colonizer’s power and privilege cannot exist without them. Racism becomes the mechanism through which this contradiction is resolved. By constructing the colonized as inferior, incapable, or in need of guidance, the colonizer preserves dominance while simultaneously rationalizing dependence. Racism does not merely excuse oppression—it stabilizes it.

Memmi’s concept of “charitable racism” (1965) initially struck me as deeply unsettling. The phrase itself feels paradoxical, almost grotesque in its self-justification.

At first reading, I rejected it outright, disturbed by the arrogance embedded in the colonizer’s rationalization. Yet upon returning to the text, I began to understand the persuasive power of perspective and how easily morality can be reshaped to serve structure. Charitable racism allows the colonizer to see themselves not as exploitative, but as benevolent—necessary even. In doing so, racism becomes not an aberration of the system, but its emotional lubricant.

The idea that racism could help sustain a social structure challenges my instinctive belief that it exists only to hinder progress, growth, and critical thought. However, as Memmi (1965) argues, colonialism is inseparable from racism; without it, the colonial order could not survive. While deeply uncomfortable, this acknowledgment forces me to consider how societies organize themselves and how social order—however unjust—becomes normalized and reproduced. Racism, in this context, functions as a survival strategy for the colonizer, one that legitimizes privilege while rendering inequality inevitable.

This is where MacLeod’s (1995) concept of social reproduction becomes essential. Social reproduction explains how systems of inequality persist not through overt instruction alone, but through everyday practices, institutions, and expectations—particularly within education. While we may no longer explicitly teach prejudice in schools, our academic systems continue to sort, track, and categorize children in ways that reinforce “us versus them” ideologies. These divisions—whether by class, ability, or perceived potential—quietly reproduce existing power structures. Colonizers raise future colonizers; the colonized are prepared to remain within the margins assigned to them.

As I reflect on these theories within my own lived reality, the discomfort sharpens. Racism and other forms of discrimination continue to function as tools for maintaining social, political, and professional positions. Stepping beyond race, I am forced to interrogate my own role as an advocate for children with disabilities. In this framework, I occupy the position of collaborator and protector—yet that role exists precisely because inequality exists. If full acceptance and equity were realized without the need for advocacy, my profession would cease to be necessary.

This realization leaves me unsettled. Am I, too, navigating Memmi’s contradiction—benefiting from a system that requires inequity in order for my role to exist? Or is advocacy a genuine disruption of the colonial dynamic rather than a charitable mask worn to make it more palatable? I do not arrive at a clean answer. What I do arrive at is the recognition that discomfort is not a failure of understanding—it is evidence that the question matters.

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• Memmi, A. (1965). The colonizer and the colonized. Beacon Press.

• MacLeod, J. (1995). Ain't no makin' it: Aspirations and attainment in a low-income neighborhood (Expanded ed.). Westview Press.