Under the White Gaze: Solving the Problem of Race and Representation in Canadian Journalism
Under the White Gaze: Solving the Problem of Race and Representation in Canadian Journalism
By Christopher Cheung
UBC Press, 2024; 288 pages; $24.95
Review by Jesse Donaldson
There was never going to be a bad time for Christopher Cheung’s Under the White Gaze: Solving the Problem of Race and Representation in Canadian Journalism. But given the state of the world — the rise of xenophobia in Canada, and the all-out assault on diversity initiatives south of the border — there has arguably never been a better time.
There’s also no one better to take the topic on; for ten years, Cheung’s work has represented some of the smartest, most engaging journalism in the province of British Columbia, and his upbringing in Vancouver’s Oakridge neighbourhood — where 75% of the population are people of colour — put him in a unique position to see what was lacking in the broader news landscape.
As he writes in the opening: “I have a hard time finding the Canada that I know in the news.”
Naturally, this isn’t an easy problem to solve, but Cheung tackles it with wit and nuance. Over seven chapters, he combines academic arguments with impeccable research, and valuable questions, layered atop a through line of lived experience. As the title states, the book focuses on Canada — with special emphasis on Cheung’s home city of Vancouver — but it also draws upon diverse voices from across the literary spectrum, including heavy hitters like Toni Morrison and Robin DiAngelo.
After defining the concept of the white gaze, he devotes two chapters to characterization; what Cheung calls the “4 Ds”: “Darlings” (model minorities), “Deviants” (people whose behaviour — usually bad — is linked to their ethnicity), “Damaged” (sad/suffering people), or “Delicious” (cultures framed as commodities for consumption). He also takes time to examine intersectionality and how journalism overlaps with and affects the literal cultural landscape — whether that’s fears about neighbourhoods as “ethnic enclaves,” or the implicit perspective of framing an ethnic restaurant as a “hidden gem.”
Crucially, the book also confronts the problems inherent in reporting on race: namely, the inevitable blowback from a subset of (white) readers who are determined to take any examination of the issue as a personal affront — be it through aggression, or minimization and “shutdown commands.” Throughout the book, Cheung takes great pains to frame his critiques with an awareness of those voices — sometimes too much so (though, in fairness, he has waded through that crap for years, and even devotes a chapter to the phenomenon).
Though most useful as a tool for journalists, this doesn’t read as a rule book. Instead, each section ends with a series of worthwhile questions for readers. How is a story framed? Who are its main characters? Whose perspectives are included? Whose are left out? Does the story rely on stereotypes — even positive ones? What specific words are chosen?
The book is at its best when Cheung lets his wit show through (in one instance, after reading too many stories painting time-honoured culinary traditions as “new” and “novel,” he and his friends joke that he should do a story on toast, “the delicious new way to eat bread”).
Solving the problem of the white gaze in Canadian journalism will take time. Trapped within the bounds of the 24-hour- news-cycle, journalism leaves little space for nuance. Today, the majority of Canada’s newsrooms (and the vast majority of senior editorial staff) are white. That won’t change overnight.
But Cheung’s perspective, and the questions he brings to the forefront will be a valuable resource for journalists who choose to use them, so we can help Canadians from every neighbourhood and culture finally see themselves in the news.
“Without representation, the news is a distortion of reality through a narrow gaze,” he concludes. “But with representation, journalism can help us see our world more clearly.”