Hi all,
This spins off of the recent megathread about the teleprompter and racism. There was a separate discussion amongst a few of us in which a liberal had described Herman Cain as a minstrel. I think that was an ugly comparison, but no more so than some of what I read when Obama was running himself. But that’s not what I’m posting about tonight.
I’d never considered myself to be a racist. I grew up in a proper liberal household. My dad was a professor at a small college (Hastings, Nebraska) and my mom was a speech pathologist. It would be accurate to say that I had a non-racial upbringing in that there wasn’t much racial diversity in Hastings, Nebraska (where I grew up) or Pocatello, Idaho (where I spent my teenage years). The only kid I remember spending time with who wasn’t white was Triet Huen (I’m going phonetic here–Tree-ET, Huyen). He was a Vietnamese immigrant. This would have been around 1976, so I’m guessing his parents left before the end. So, I’m just establishing that my interactions up to going to college were almost exclusively with other white kids.
I had an eye opener the summer after I graduated from college. I went to Macalester College in St. Paul, Minnesota. I wound up renting an apartment for the summer after I graduated with three friends. Two of had just graduated and the other two were between junior and senior years. We rented a place on Marshall Avenue. There’s a striking shift in income within just a few blocks. Summit Avenue is mansions. Marshall, about a half mile to the north, is the “hood”.
Our place on Marshall was just off Victoria, about a half mile from Victoria Crossing, where Victoria crosses Grand Ave. It’s a place with some posh shopping and once had a great book store (Odegards). I particularly liked going to Chocolate & Bread as well as Coffee & Tea, Ltd. In order to get there, one walks about a half mile south on Victoria, past a youth center. Outside the youth center, there would often be a group of young, black men. I felt nervous every time I walked past. Know this. Up to that point, I’d never been assaulted by a black man. [I grew up before African American became proper usage, so I’ll stick with black and white for the purpose of this discussion.] I’d had virtually no interactions. And still, I felt nervous every time I walked by.
Without realizing it, I’d absorbed something in our culture. I know that had it been a dozen white teenagers hanging around outside the center, I wouldn’t have felt nervous. It was solely because of their race. It was an eye opening moment for me.
We all make judgements. We all react to race. I think that is equally true, regardless as to one’s ethnic background. That doesn’t make you or me a racist. In my case, I chose to keep walking past that place (corner of Victoria and Selby) as I refused to give into that visceral reaction. I don’t think that I’m a racist, but I am not immune to racial judgements. The struggle against those judgements is something that I face.
Many years later, I faced a little of what it feels like to be judged. I lived in England for four years as an American. Every so often, I’d be hanging out at the pub and someone would make a crack that made it clear to me that I wasn’t local. That’s only a shadow of what others must feel, but it was a valuable lesson.
Good night to all. And just ’cause….
BB
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Brent Nyitray
Fairlington Blade
Let the mutherfuker burn!
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Kevin S. Willis
Michigoose
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markinaustin
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