Racism 101: Figure it Out

by damali ayo

Cross-posted in her blog on March 16, 2009.

This is why I am a hermit.

Last night I went to a much needed party. After having spent six hours with my taxes, human company was a welcomed end to my day. After greeting all the hosts and being introduced to the food, my first conversation,went like this:

“So, how long have you been growing….” a hand from a 50something man moves toward my hair.

I had plate in one hand, garden burger in another so as his hand reached, my body moved in tandem, with a kind of racial-aikido, away from his hand, keeping a distance enough so my hair remained out of his grasp.

“Ahh…ahh…rude.” I muttered between garden burger chews. I was surprised at my present and very calm, yet clear reaction. It’s taken decades to be this “in the moment” and I’m getting better at it. Probably because this response is strikingly similar to commands that I give when trying to train my dog away from bad or potentially dangerous behavior. “Nooo…nooo…no begging” is a common refrain around my house these days.

He looked stunned. I smiled.

“Thirteen years.” I answered his actual question, finding it to be a logical one to ask about dreadlocks.

Quite honestly, I don’t remember his response. I don’t recall any further conversation. His expression faded from delighted child to chided puppy. His chin sank. I noticed because the direction of his chin drew my attention to his mock turtleneck. I hate mock turtlenecks. They should be outlawed or uninvented somehow in a way that will remove them from the face of the earth.

He wandered off.

I was pleased at the kind of presence I had. Believe it or not, I don’t go into those situations expecting this kind of behavior from people. As much as it happens over and over and over again, I continue, stubbornly to insist that I can have a racism-free evening and enter into social occasions with the naivete of any other party-goer. So I am often caught off guard, and as a result, lack the type of patience it takes to deal with such situations, and end up in the “I offended that black lady” role.

Did I mention I was the only non-white person at this gathering?

The night continued, but it wasn’t long before I was in another racial quagmire. I was still only half-way through my garden burger when a woman and I struck up a conversation. After a few short topics she started talking about how much fun it is to shoot a shotgun and how she goes out to the “rural areas” and does that for fun. She said the phrase “redneck” several times when referring to herself and friends who would go out and shoot. In fact she described her friends as “yuppie rednecks” which is an emerging and trendy category for sure. I nodded and said “I know exactly what you mean.” Then she mentioned how it would be fun to empower women with target practice and that I might enjoy going out to the country and shooting things with her.

I stopped nodding.

Me: “Um, I don’t think so. Probably not.” I answered, politely, gazing around for another conversation to steal me away.

Pause.

Lady: “Why? Do you think your race would be a problem for people there?”

Now, here’s an important point. Though later she would accuse me of brining race into the conversation simply by “being different,” it was she who decided that my discomfort was a racial (as opposed to a violence, I don’t know you, or general avoidance of crazy behavior) response. I admit, as thoughts of my grandfather who got run out of Mississippi by the Klan (a story which involved shot guns) ran through my head, that yes, racial discomfort was one of the things that crossed my mind.

Me: “Well, I don’t think that *I* would have an issue with my race, no.”

Lady: “I mean do you think that just because people are rural that they have some notion about you because you are urban or…(i don’t recall the other euphemistic descriptors she used).”

Me: “Well, even in a setting like this,” I motion to the party around us, “I often find urban, modern, supposedly enlightened people in their 50s saying and doing things that I wouldn’t expect out of someone older than 8 or so. So I don’t often press my luck with people who might not have that kind of sophistication.”

I’ll spare you the details of all that transpired- here are the highlights.

1. She went down the classic “How am i supposed to know?” path:

Lady: “I didn’t mean to upset you.” (note: I’m not at all upset) “I mean I didn’t know that about lynchings and all of that, that hanging a noose would make someone uncomfortable?”

Me: “Really? You couldn’t figure that out?”

Lady: “No, I mean, I didn’t know.”

Me: “Really? That’s like saying you didn’t know about swastikas.”

Lady: “Right. I didn’t know.”

She’s not even listening to me. Of course she knows that swastikas are a symbol of hatred. How can you know *about* lynchings but not figure out that nooses are a symbol of….lynchings? Or that lynchings are a symbol of hate? Is there a kind of “just getting to know you” lynching? Happy birthday lynching? No. No there is not. Put it together lady, it’s not that hard.

2. Next she went down the path of trying to care for me (aka infantilization) by indulging her own guilt:

Lady: “You are obviously sad and I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

Me: “I’m not sad, I’m just listening. I actually haven’t said much. You’ve been talking quite a bit. It seems to me that you are the uncomfortable one.”

3. Then, there was the apology route:

Lady: “I”m sorry.” Can I be that? Can I be sorry?”

I don’t know how I responded to this one, I despise insincere or defensive apologies. I don’t even hear them so I probably just gave her a blank stare.

Here’s the thing. (and trust me, I mentioned this to her). It is not my fault or responsibility that you allow yourself to be willfully out of touch with the realities of the other members of our multiracial society. I’m not asking you to be black, i’m asking you to be a good American. We live in this country *with* each other, in case you haven’t noticed. I firmly believe that we can be better by knowing the ways in which our actions affect our community members. Not knowing that a noose or a conversation about rednecks shootin’ up stuff is going to make a person of color, particularly an African American uncomfrotable is not just inexcusable it’s downright dumb. This is not a subtle thing to grasp- its incredibly obvious. She clarly already understood race relations on some level because she raised the question of race in the scenario. What is sad is that she, and many people, can’t exercise their minds enough to follow that thought through to its logical conclusion and use the information to develop behaviors that reflect an understanding that allows them to treat those around them with respect and understanding.

Unfortuately, this whole thinking thing gets people really frustrated. They don’t want to think, feel, grow, or examine themselves from another person’s perspective. They want to blunder through, step on people, and then apologize after.

This is one of the great failings of our “community.” And we can be better than this.

Which is why I do what I do.

I hung in there for a good long while. I thought that yeah, I am really just at peace and thought this really kind of messed up my relaxing night and now I am tense and irritated, I am not going to show that, I am going to try to sanely and politely engage this woman down for as long as I can because maybe this will turn out in a way that makes us both feel more human in the end.

4. But just then, she said this:

Lady: “You know my relatives came to this country and they were all Norwegian and they experienced a lot of racism because they were all blonde.”

That was it.

Me: (Calmly) “That’s not actually racism. And now I’m getting exhausted.”

Before I was finished with the word ‘exhausted,’ she walked away, in a frustrated pout. I finished my garden burger, and went to inform my friend that she’d be hearing some ‘feedback’ about me after the party.