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10/30/01 06:18 PM: We have a reader
Wow, I’m just amazed to know we have a reader.
I finally got around to writing another college essay. Ugh, these suck. I realize this essay is attrocious, but I’m sick of looking at it, and I have too many other things to do to spend any more time on it. Hey, the first part isn’t so bad. Then again, the first part is more of a story than an essay. But it does get your attention, no? Anyway, I was to write about the current social issue most important to me, and why it is so important.
The air is cold. A gust of wind sends a shiver down my spine. I stuff my hands deep into my pockets to keep warm. I walk down one of the town’s major thoroughfares. It is late. The sun has long ago dipped under the horizon. Darkness has set in, though the street is well lit. The combination of cold, late, and dark has me slightly on edge. A noise startles me. No need to worry; it is only a dog. I walk on, my heart rate slowing down after its sudden spike. I reach the end of the block and turn the corner, all the while preoccupied with an untied shoelace. Not paying attention, I bump into a man. My heart again goes into overdrive. He apologizes and excuses himself. Even though I know I must return the courtesy, the words do not fall from my mouth until my hand reaches around and feels the bulge of a wallet in my back left pant pocket.
Why do my lips freeze until I am certain that my wallet is still in my pocket? Why wouldn’t it be? Perhaps I am frightened by the darkness that has enveloped the street. Maybe I am scared of what may lurk in the shadows. No, this is probably not the case. More likely, my fear comes from the light, rather than the dark. The streetlights allow me to see that the man I have bumped into is black.
Why does this matter? It doesn’t, really. To phrase it more accurately, it shouldn’t. Consciously, it doesn’t matter. That’s what I tell myself. That’s what I know. That’s what my seventeen years of experience tell me. I’ve bumped into lots of people. I’ve accidentally collided with Blacks, Whites, Christians, Jews, men, women, young people, old people, tall people, short people. None of them have ever stolen my wallet. As far as I know, no one is more likely to do so than another.
I know the man’s skin tone has nothing to do with the likelihood of him trying to rob me, and I am not in an area where such a thought is even necessary, yet I still have this reaction. It is an unconscious reaction, a reflex. I am not quite aware of the action until I am doing it, past the point where I am able to stop it.
I am embarrassed when I realize what I am doing. The embarrassment is similar to that which comes over you when you realize you have been staring at someone, and you know they know it. It is similar but not identical. This embarrassment contains a large dose of shame. I am ashamed because I know my reaction was unnecessary, insulting to the man and to myself. It was the product of unfounded prejudice.
Despite years of progress by civil rights activists and ordinary citizens alike, racism is still alive and well in the United States (and the world). Freedom and liberty and not without its tradeoffs. Freedom of speech applies to bigots and hatemongers as well as the tolerant and open-minded.
A broad spectrum of viewpoints exists on the issue of race. Bold, out-and-out racists are a minority, but they are not difficult to find. On the other end, a good deal of people truly draw no distinctions between people of different races. The majority, however, lie somewhere in between the two extremes. These are the people who claim to draw no distinctions between black, white, yellow, red. These are the people who profess to be colorblind, but in reality possess different attitudes toward people of different races. These are the average citizens. Their differences in attitude are not necessarily intentional. Acts based on prejudice are often not even recognized as such by the perpetrators. Or they are recognized for what they are after the fact but not before.
Racist messages both blatant and subtle are pervasive in modern society. Often, these are found right alongside messages of the exact opposite nature. For example, “racial profiling” is a practice decried by law enforcement agencies nationwide. Despite the denunciations, the practice is still widespread. Since September 11, “Middle Eastern-looking man” has become synonymous with “criminal” in America. This conjures up thoughts of the old DWB offense—Driving While Black.
What is an impressionable mind to conclude in light of these obvious contradictions? It’s wrong to discriminate based on skin color, says the mouth. Meanwhile, the hands are doing exactly that. Maturing in this atmosphere, it is easy for the mind to fall into the gray area duality, where it knows the right thing to do but doesn’t quite do it.
I am struggling to pull myself out of this quagmire, but it is easier said than done. Should I hesitate for just one moment, I am liable to slip back into the bog of prejudice. It is important that I lift myself out, though, for until I do so, I am wilfully living a lie, being untrue to myself, abandoning my principles.
I am aware of my situation. I do not pretend to be underprivileged or oppressed. By a lucky roll of the dice, I turned out to be an American, middle class, white male. Discrimination is virtually unknown to me, so my perspective is not the most insightful. But this is precisely why I find racism to be such an evil presence. I have never faced it personally, and I can’t think of a single reason why anyone else should, either. No justifiable reason exists for anyone being put at a social disadvantage because of something like skin tone, which they have no control over.
Racists are like cockroaches. No matter how hard you try, you just can’t get rid of all of them. But the battle goes on, and the roaches are on the losing end. If everyone begins to put a little more thought into their actions, our collective heads may become clear enough for us to be able to walk down the street without worrying about the skin color of the person walking next to us.
(Yeah, that’s a terrible analogy. Sue me.)
