Casual Racism

Man, there is no way for me to know what direction my mind will go sometimes.  This morning, while drinking my morning cup of coffee, I overheard someone on the TV say, "I thought they'd be darker."  This triggered a twenty year old memory that has been plaguing my thoughts ever since.  I figured it would make good fodder for the blog, so here goes...

First, for any that come across this blog who have not met me, I'm white.  Descended from Scottish ancestry, with a little German thrown in for good measure, I'm about as white and white gets.  I grew up in a firmly middle-class suburban family and never had to personally struggle through any sort of economic or racial hardship as a child.  Still, my parents never showed any hint of racism, and I feel raised me right to judge people based on their actions, not their genetics.

In addition, as a teacher in a 30/30/30 school I have never consciously evaluated a student based upon racial, religious, or orientation.  I believe my students would agree that they didn't feel that I was a person who they would consider racist, and I actively work AGAINST such prejudices in my classroom.

That said, recalling an incident from decades ago has reminded me there is more than "active" racism I must work against.  About twenty years ago, I was an assistant manager at McDonalds.  One day, I swear someone exploded in the men's bathroom.  There was feces everywhere, including the walls and ceiling!  As I was one of those who felt he had to lead by example, I assigned this "shit job" (English teacher pun!) to myself.  It wasn't fun.

Later I was talking about it to one of my co-workers, a shift manager named Beverly.  Beverly was a classy lady; a hard worker and pleasant personality.  She also happened to be black.  I clearly remember describing the scene in that bathroom and saying to her, trying to not say the actual word and be funny, "the walls were covered in something the same color as you."  Even today I can remember the look on her face.  I just described a woman as the color of shit.  Why would I do that?

As I've grown older, I begin to understand more.  I'm not racist, but society remains so.  I didn't say that horrible thing because I was trying to belittle her because of her race.  I said it because I had no idea that such a statement might be wrong as I was the definition of white privilege.  I didn't think of how it would make her feel because I was completely oblivious to her situation.  It never occurred to me that calling a proud (and rightly so) black woman the color of shit was harmful.  Even today, it fills me with disgust at myself for having done that.

I need to do better.  We all need to do better.  It isn't enough not to be actively racist.  Every joke that makes use of color, sexual orientation, religion, or any other stereotype as a punchline reinforces perceptions that I know I believe shouldn't be maintained.  It isn't enough to just not be racist.  I must make sure I also actively work against the social acceptance of such "casual racism" so as to make future generations not even consider doing so.  And Beverly, wherever you are, I'm sorry.