I could have been a Racist

I am a white, American woman.  I come from a middle class, Republican background, received an excellent education and have an impressive vocabulary.  I’m a pacifist but I’m from New Jersey, so don’t fuck with me. I fancy myself a starlight night philosopher, a champion of the underdog and a connoisseur of boxed wine.  If it hadn’t been for my mother’s influence and my vast, lifelong love of books, I would probably be a complete racist.

When I was about four years old I came home from my grandmother’s house and asked my mother what a nigger was. She was appalled and her response was perfect.  She bought me a little black baby doll and nestled it among my other dolls.  She told me that we are all people and we are all the same.  I have no memory of this event - my mother told me this story when I was older.  She also told me that it she had to drive all over New Jersey to find a black doll because (even today) they are not easy to find. My mother was enlightened and I’m so grateful for her because on the other side….

One day my father sat me down at my grandparent's dinner table, across from my ancient aunt Minnie and my decorated WWII veteran grandpa. My dad told me about the five groups of people that I wasn’t ever allowed to date. Here is the list, verbatim:

• Niggers
• Jews
• Spics
• Dot Heads
• Russians

The other adults at the table had a good laugh as he explained the meanings of some of those terms to me.  I believe, now, that he was using the term ‘dot head’ as a misnomer for all people of Arab descent – the rest I’m fairly sure are self explanatory.  He made me repeat the list twice before I could leave the table that night.  I was seven years old.  To this day I’m not sure if he was kidding or not.

When I entered my teen years he sat me down for a more serious conversation, all joking aside.  He told me that it would break his heart if I ever dated a black man.  I had black friends – so did he, and that was fine but dating a black person, that was a big no-no.  In my early twenties I met a black man that I really liked.  We had everything in common except our skin tone.  We spent hours talking on the phone about music.  He was a DJ and I was into classic rock at that time.  He mixed the opening notes of the Beatles ‘Blackbird’ with a hip-hop beat at my request, it was amazing and the most overtly romantic thing anyone has ever done for me. Shortly after that, he asked me out on a date.  I really wanted to go, but I knew I’d never be able to take him home and I had too much respect for him to carry on in secret.  I didn’t really ever get along very well with my father, but I wasn’t brave enough to defy him.  

I have racists in my life that I love. I don’t agree with them, but I can understand why they think they way they do. It’s how they were taught. It could have been me. I have no doubt that those people will hate every word I’ve written here but I’m not writing this for them.  

 

I’m writing this for my friend Nicole who doesn’t know what to tell her daughter when she asks ‘Mommy, why do they hate me? Is it because I’m black?’ I’m writing this for my play Auntie J and her blood nephew that I wasn’t brave enough to go out to dinner with. I'm writing this for Dylan, Maddy and Ben who laughingly remind me that they're Jewish when I wish them a Merry Christmas every year.  I'm writing this for my goddaughter who is Asian on her mother's side. I'm writing this for my friend Jamie who is Muslim and Edwin who is gay and Katie who is a practicing Wiccan. I am writing this for every single person, who knows that no race of people is better or worse than any other, because we are all part of the human race.  I’m writing this to try and explain the heart of the problem - ignorance and fear that some people are indoctrinated into from birth.  It goes on and on in an endless round robin cycle.  

But there is hope.   

It could have been me, but I had a person in my life who taught me that beauty is on the inside.  It won't be my son because I teach him the same. Every day the cycle is being broken. The racists have to scream louder now than ever before because they are so vastly outnumbered. At least that is my most sincere hope for the world.

They say the darkest hour is just before dawn.  I know it’s easy for me to write these words, I’m not the one being attacked but, for what it’s worth -  I will stand by you.  I will stand up for you.  I will kneel with you when the occasion arises.  I won’t be quiet.  I won’t just watch in silence.  However long this night is, the sun will eventually rise and I’ll be with you when it does.  Be safe until then.