It happens more often than I’m comfortable with… And I’m not sure if it’s happening more as I get older or if part of the wisdom that I’m earning as I get older is a more sensitive ear to it… But we live in a world that is still so racist.
No, thankfully, we don’t segregate public bathrooms anymore. It’s not as outward as it was sixty years ago… It’s an undercurrent and, same with the ocean, the undercurrent is the one you really have to watch out for. If we’re not careful, the secretly sweeping subtle racism will tangle around our feet and pull us all back down under.
I’m a white, southern, middle class-raised woman and I can say with absolute honesty, I didn’t experience first-hand racism until I was 25 year old. How foolish of me to think that I was living in a progressive world where we had learned from history. No, I was just in a bubble… As a child, my parents would reach out to people in the community they met — black, asian, white, whatever… It didn’t matter what color someone was because my parents saw the person inside. My parents loved all my friends — as daughters of their own — no matter what color they were… No matter what social or financial world they lived on… People are people.
They’re just people.
I remember it was a Sunday afternoon. My boyfriend at the time, an early-thirties black hipster with a mohawk, and I were waiting for our movie to start, killing time in Atlantic Station wandering through shops. We found ourselves inside Publix, reading magazines. The aisle was at least six feet across… Andrew was three or four feet to my right, browsing magazines. I was a half a step back from the shelf, reading a magazine. A woman, heavyset and older, came down the aisle. She made a deliberate and obnoxious display of herself, brushed against his shoulders as she went by and then barreling between me and the shelf, where there was hardly room for me, much less someone of her size. I was shocked at how rude she was with her heavy sighs and painfully sarcastic grunts… But I brushed it off, looking up at my boyfriend, hoping to catch his gaze and commiserate on how rude this bitch had been… But when I caught his gaze, I didn’t see irritation. I didn’t see frustration. I saw RAGE. It caught me by surprise.
“Racist cunt!” he said, not quite under his breath. She was out of ear shot, thankfully. I wasn’t looking to cause a scene in the grocery store. But… racist? What? I didn’t understand. She was black!
Andrew laughed at me. Oh, to live in that bubble again… That foolish, naive bubble where it NEVER occurred to me that a black woman would be racist toward ME. “She’s just like all the rest of the black women in America who are pissed that their “good black men” are dating cracker bitches.” SHOCK AND AWE! Wait… What? Is that my boyfriend, a black man, being racist against a black woman?
What the fuck? We made it to the movie on time, but I don’t even recall what we saw… I was too distracted, gathering up the pieces of my shattered heart… My bubble was popped. And now, armed with this newfound sensitivity to the world around me, I took care to watch what I said…
Later on, I would work with a woman named Millie. Millie was this incredible soul, a petite strict vegan made out of nothing but muscles and bones and a bitty little afro, wrapped up in beautiful batik fabrics and a kufi. She was unmarried, well-educated and dedicated to her work as a Montessori teacher. I had so much respect for this woman… So strong but so gentle… I worked under Millie for four years and learned so much about the world and my place in it during that time. She was the epitome of afro-centric. We spent all of February learning about the struggle of black Americans and, no lie, I learned more in those years with her, assisting her in teaching 2-6 year olds, than I learned in all my years of school during Black History Month. We learned about and celebrated Kwanzaa, learning the Principles of Kwanzaa in Swahili. My world became bigger when I was working with her… But it wasn’t even really about the lessons that were planned for the children… It was more in those conversations with her, sitting quietly together and rubbing the backs of children who were napping. I learned about her upbringing in Baltimore during the early 1950s… Her first hand accounts of the racism she experienced… I imagined what life must have been like for her… Knowing her and how sweet and strong and amazing she was… And thinking about someone perhaps spitting on her, hitting her, denying her of any of her rights as an American.
It still rattles me.
So, no… I’m not black. I wasn’t raised in a world where I experienced racism… I have only experienced first-hand racism a handful of times and it was so subtle that I just dismissed it at the time, as people being rude…
Someone posted something on facebook this morning and it… It frustrated me. I tried to sit on my hands because, really… It’s foolish to engage with people who are stupid and racist, right?
But I just couldn’t… I had to say something.
God, I am so disgusted. I am shocked and I shouldn’t be… The girl that posted this, she’s dropped little sly racist remarks in the past (“I would NEVER date a black man, GOD, no.”, etc) but to so blatantly show your ass on your facebook like this? So stupid.
Defriended. I can’t hang with that shit.
Racism is insidious and subtle, thought not so much in this case, and by no means is it limited to any particular ethnicity. Thank you for sharing your experiences and thoughts; may we all strive to eliminate prejudices against ethnicity, religion or sexual orientation.
We ain’t so different after all.
Jackie
That’s it. That’s really it… We are not so different.
Jami, I sympathize. I grew up right outside of Boston, turned 10 in ’73 and didn’t know there was a black projects just 2 miles from my house. My mom was very inclusive; my father didn’t show his racism until I was in my 20’s, thank god. Race has been and will be a bitter and divisive issue in this country for a long, long time and all you can do is work against it, as best as you can. I have a friend who is racist and I told him I hate that part of him and I will not give up on him, to get him to understand the damage it does. It means that sometimes I’m pretty pissed off at him.
You’re deep, J. Keep your head up.
Chris
I’m not mature enough to be friends with racist people. Maybe one day. I don’t hate them or anything like that… When it’s glaringly obvious that they’re racist and they aren’t apologetic or anything, I associate that with some real, hard-core conflicts in our morality.
The tragedy is in the racism that is drunk in like mothers’ milk, that people don’t even realize is there. This is not that, of course; it’s big and blatant and appalling. But the little ones that I find even creeping up in my thinking are the ones that get me. Occasionally I have to turn on myself with a stern finger of reproach.
It’s so true, Tony. I know I find myself, because of the work I do in retail, having some knee jerk reactions sometimes and I have to reel myself in because really… it’s not who I want to be. It’s not the world I want to live in.
I am so proud of the way you describe the way you were raised that I have tears running down my face. I grew up with racism all around me and somehow do try my best to see people as people and not see race or economic status as a means of judgement. I am glad you were raised in the bubble that we worked hard to build around you so that you would not be tainted by the stains of what we grew up with.
I always thought our grandchildren would be like the united nations with so many colors- ironically it has not happened that way. I love the way you think. I hope and beleive that my grandchildren grow up being colored blind too!
I know what you mean. I grew up in a similar household with very welcoming parents no matter who my friends were, and even though now I’ve studied race in a variety of contexts (having been a sociology major in college and then a law student at a very progressive school that is all about fighting for civil rights and social justice and the like), I still get rather shocked when I encounter really blatant racism. I feel like we should at least be past the days of such blatant, outwardly racist behavior, and should be able to focus on solving the systemic racism that is still quite prevalent. Maybe someday…
Along the same lines, I got into huge wars with a now former “friend” on FB during the whole gay marriage prop vote.
And really if you’re posting updates like “I would NEVER date a black man, GOD, no.” that’s more than subtle racism…that’s flat out racism.
Good for you for defending MLK and defriending her.