Some might consider this post political, but I don't consider racism political. I consider it a psychological disorder. The problem is that most people with the disorder don't even know that they have it.
People of my generation, and upbringing, had racism imbedded through the unconscious events of our childhood. There were no 'Negros' in our neighborhood, or within miles of our house. In the early nineteen fifties on
television, the only representation of blacks was the 'Amos n' Andy Show', and that program portrayed blacks as conniving, scheming, and stupid. We were brought up calling Brazil nuts, nigger toes. We would play a game in the yard where someone would yell "nigger pile!", and everyone would then pile on top of whoever was designated the nigger, as in 'nigger pile on Alan'. At Rudy's candy shop, behind the display case, were big red wax lips that we always referred to as nigger lips.
It didn't take us long to figure out that being a nigger was a bad thing, and in the fifth grade I got into big trouble for calling the school crossing guard 'nigger lips'. She dragged me back over to the school, and let Sister Lillian take care of me. I was in trouble not for using the word nigger, what I was in trouble for was insulting the crossing guard. It would have been no different if I had called her whore lips, the nun wouldn't have insisted I apologize to the whores, only to the crossing guard.
As I grew older, and entered my hippie/liberal years, I believed that I wasn't racist. The truth is that I was. Sometimes quite purposely blatant and sometimes unconsciously, just through the osmosis of my upbringing. Even after meeting black guys and "dating" them, I still clung to my racist attitudes. Although I found black guys exotic, I never really got to know any one very well. The sight of a black professional always seemed to startle me, and the thought of even going to a black doctor seemed strange. Blacks in positions of authority such as a policeman or judge, truly seemed out
of place to me. It was not until I met Mark and he moved in with me that I started to consciously attempt to remove racist thought processes from my mind. Every time I saw a black person, either on television or on the street I would say to myself, "That could be Marks brother, or mother, or father. That could be Mark.", and in doing so it humanized them in a way I couldn't before. Black people were no longer a caricature, but flesh and blood like me.
I am convinced that the best cure for racism is for personal integration. By this I mean you need to get out of your comfort zone, and meet all kinds of people. Invite them into your home, have them over for dinner, and talk about things that all people have in common. We have to realize that we are all family or we will continue to go around in circles and never get beyond race. This is just a personal thing for me. It is how I overcame and continue to overcome my racist attitudes. Others will have to figure it out for themselves.
People of my generation, and upbringing, had racism imbedded through the unconscious events of our childhood. There were no 'Negros' in our neighborhood, or within miles of our house. In the early nineteen fifties on
television, the only representation of blacks was the 'Amos n' Andy Show', and that program portrayed blacks as conniving, scheming, and stupid. We were brought up calling Brazil nuts, nigger toes. We would play a game in the yard where someone would yell "nigger pile!", and everyone would then pile on top of whoever was designated the nigger, as in 'nigger pile on Alan'. At Rudy's candy shop, behind the display case, were big red wax lips that we always referred to as nigger lips.
It didn't take us long to figure out that being a nigger was a bad thing, and in the fifth grade I got into big trouble for calling the school crossing guard 'nigger lips'. She dragged me back over to the school, and let Sister Lillian take care of me. I was in trouble not for using the word nigger, what I was in trouble for was insulting the crossing guard. It would have been no different if I had called her whore lips, the nun wouldn't have insisted I apologize to the whores, only to the crossing guard.
As I grew older, and entered my hippie/liberal years, I believed that I wasn't racist. The truth is that I was. Sometimes quite purposely blatant and sometimes unconsciously, just through the osmosis of my upbringing. Even after meeting black guys and "dating" them, I still clung to my racist attitudes. Although I found black guys exotic, I never really got to know any one very well. The sight of a black professional always seemed to startle me, and the thought of even going to a black doctor seemed strange. Blacks in positions of authority such as a policeman or judge, truly seemed out
of place to me. It was not until I met Mark and he moved in with me that I started to consciously attempt to remove racist thought processes from my mind. Every time I saw a black person, either on television or on the street I would say to myself, "That could be Marks brother, or mother, or father. That could be Mark.", and in doing so it humanized them in a way I couldn't before. Black people were no longer a caricature, but flesh and blood like me.I am convinced that the best cure for racism is for personal integration. By this I mean you need to get out of your comfort zone, and meet all kinds of people. Invite them into your home, have them over for dinner, and talk about things that all people have in common. We have to realize that we are all family or we will continue to go around in circles and never get beyond race. This is just a personal thing for me. It is how I overcame and continue to overcome my racist attitudes. Others will have to figure it out for themselves.
Well spoken. I'm currently dating what some people refer to as just the opposite; "White trash." I am going through the exact same process as Alan. I have come to realize these are human beings just like me with thoughts and feeling. It is just because of the environmental conditions of growing up or mental disabilties that caused them to be referred negativly by others. Once you get to know and understand them, your prejudices disappear.
ReplyDeleteThis is a great article Alan, your completely right about getting out and meeting different walks of life, maybe then people will see that we are all the same no matter what :)
ReplyDeleteI have noticed the apathy too. Maybe everyone is focused on the election or else they are so hypotized by all the campaign ads that they are in a stupor. Thank goodness all those ads will end today after almost 2 long years. What a relief!
ReplyDeleteIt's interesting that our parents didn't "imbed" us with racism. I had a lot of contact with black people as a child because of the "clinics" that Mom took me to for my birthmark and eye problems. I don't remember any negative feelings or talk at that age. And when I went to nursing school.... well, it was Cook County Hospital! Of all the patients I ever had, the people there were the most appreciative of the care that they got.
ReplyDeleteNo, Peggy, our parents did not imbed me with racism, but my surroundings did. I also hung around grandpa a lot, and he often referred to the spooks and shines. He of course grew up during the worst time for race relations in America, the Jim Crow years.
ReplyDeleteGreat Blog, Alan.
ReplyDelete