I very nearly pitted my father just now. Why? His cellphone was stolen this morning as he was working and out on a delivery. When he got home and contacted my mother, his first words upon learning she got hold of the thief on the phone was “is he a nigger?” Obviously I bristled at such blatant (if infrequent) racism.
But then I thought, for what my family has experienced personally of race relations, maybe it wasn’t such an out-of-line question.
While at a movie at Baltimore’s historic Senator theater a few months back, my mother’s brand Chrysler was spraypainted with “Bitch! I fucking hate PTs.” The neighborhood is predominantly black, and the serial spraypainter(s) (who also got four other silver cars in the lots that night) were thought to be two black youths who were seen loitering mischievously around the area.
I was forced to move out of my dorm room freshman year of college because I genuinely feared for my safety after my roommate threatened, quite earnestly, to “fuck me up.” I believed him, the school really didn’t. Luckily, they were able to move me to another dorm location, but not after a lot of trouble and worry to my entire family, and my dorm contents being in a car for three straight days. The race of the roommate? Black.
Last of major events that I can think of, at least for now, is simply my dad’s entire time in teaching at two fairly low-funded public schools with large minority populations. Including the many violence and death threats he received while on the job (some of which were followed up on by the administration and found to be serious enough for disciplinary action) and even a select few on us, his family.
I have to think that he’s not really racist. At the very worst, he may now be, but it wasn’t always the case; instead he was pushed to it by a lifetime of really very significant events perpetrated by black people, with surprisingly few corresponding insults from other races. Either way, I can’t bring myself to pit him for his comment, because I fear I probably would have a similar thought about the race of my thief (as well as socioeconomic condition, education, and drug dependency). And I think in my case, as well as what I could easily choose to project on him as a result of this disproportionate number of race-referenced incidents, I’d at least briefly entertain the stereotypes, consider the racism, because it’s worked out too many times in the past.