I Am A Racist

Okay, now that my title has grabbed your attention, let me clarify.

I am NOT a racist, but I would be foolish to pretend that my background and upbringing had no impact on my worldview. 

For most, the primary factor in their beliefs is their family of origin. People often make jokes about their "racist grandparents," and while I never heard my grandparents say anything overtly offensive, I do remember my grandmother referring to the "coloreds" with a bit of disdain in her voice. There was another time a family member took me shopping and I was allowed to pick out a Barbie doll. I initially selected a doll with dark skin. My relative hesitated, then asked me to pick a different doll. I was old enough to notice the sole difference between the doll I wanted and the other dolls was the skin tone. Luckily, I was also mature enough to realize that wasn't right, but imagine the scenario from the perspective of someone younger: I was subtly being taught that color divides us and that darker colors were not worthy of my attention.

Your experiences in your hometown will also frame your opinions on many topics. I have already mentioned that my city of birth was not very diverse. There were no Black individuals in my grade school and only a handful at my high school. I didn't get the chance to interact with them much, hear their perspectives, and listen to their stories. I didn't see very many minorities in professional positions, though they certainly existed. How does such a scenario shape a community's beliefs about entire groups of people?

Fortunately, my parents, teachers, and other positive role models taught me not to judge a person based on the color of their skin. They pointed out injustices and prejudiced lines of thinking. They challenged me to be better. 

They helped me become not a racist.

If everyone had the same experience, maybe - just maybe - that would be good enough. It is clear that not everyone had role models to teach them to be better. In fact, some people still hold actively racist and sometimes violent viewpoints.

In this climate, then, a new term has emerged: antiracist. Those of us who are not racist are being called to become antiracist to help counter the racists in our midst. Each of us will need to become antiracist in accordance with our gifts and comfort level.

For me, a person averse to confrontation, I thought that meant I should keep quiet and work behind the scenes for racial justice. I planned on assessing my talents and discerning how best to implement them to work toward change.

Even as I remained relatively quiet, I witnessed things that made me uneasy. On social media, an acquaintance shared a picture that implied Black individuals hold each other back and prevent each other from achieving success while White individuals support each other and help each other advance. Someone sent me an article that blamed Blacks for their problems, saying they are lazy and lack any family values. Another person, quoting a talk show, opined that Blacks are stereotyped by their lowest common denominator. She didn't offer an explanation for that belief, nor did she propose any solutions.

And here's the thing: I don't live in the bubble of my youth anymore. I interact with many minorities as a teacher; I hear their stories about being called a racial slur in the hallway or being made to feel as though they don't belong in the school. I have extended family members who are of different races. They talk about their negative experiences, of the hurt they have endured.

Perhaps most notably, I have a two-year-old niece who is half-Black. She is outgoing, funny, and beautiful. But I wonder how old she will be when people start to tell her to change her personality, to hide herself to fit their standards. I wonder if she will she be made to feel that she doesn't belong in her school. I wonder when her parents will first have to explain to her what the n-word means.

For my precious niece, if no one else, I need to be a better antiracist.