I haven’t said much on my social medias about the current events. While I’m sure a few have interpreted my silence as complacency, or not caring, I have hopes my friends know I’ve been contemplating the best way to express my thoughts. On a topic such as this, taking the time to reflect, tear apart, and reconstruct a thought process is important.
I grew up in a small farm town that was known for its racism. It was known by every town for miles that if you are black, you don’t go to Bremen. While my father figures didn’t have much to say on the topic other than I should treat everyone with equal respect. My mother, on the other hand, while telling me I shouldn’t be racist, displayed blatant racism of her own. As a small child, I just couldn’t figure out why people hated someone just because they had a better tan. I hadn’t learned about melanin, culture differences, and all the good stuff yet. I just knew it was something they couldn’t control. Why hate someone for something they have no control over?
I heard her drop the N word on occasion, but she insisted I should never use it. I would hear her and others talking about how cops would chase black people out of the town. They seemed to think it was amusing. She once tried to tell me there was a study that proved black people were not as smart as white. I was skeptical. Later I dismissed that whole thing as a bunch of malarkey she twisted so she wouldn’t look bad. Plot twist: She’s a narcissist. Go figure.
By the time I was a teenager, I knew I wanted most definitely to leave Bremen and never come back. The general populace of the town was toxic, bigoted, and filled with stereotypes you’d expect from a small farm town. I was tired of hearing the N word. I was tired of hearing gay men being called faggots. I was tired of being surrounded by bullies that never grew out of being a bully. I swore that I would do my best to see each person I meet as just that. A person. That I would let their words and actions toward me help me decide whether or not I like them.
My Junior year of high school I moved to the next town over. There were a few black people there, but I didn’t think much beyond “New town, new situations, more to learn.” That was until the day I went to sit next to a girl on the bus and she immediately screamed “OH HELL NO!” and lept over me to get away from me and sit somewhere else. I was confused for those brief seconds until she said “I’m not sitting next to some racist Bremen bitch!” She had assumed I was racist because of where I was originally from. I felt gutted. I was being judged for something I had no control over.
I still have trouble admitting I came from that town. There is no pride in it.
I remember Rodney King. Not him personally, since I never met him. But I remember seeing the video of officers beating that man over and over. I remember the officers giving lame excuses that he was “resisting” and “Oh we think he was on drugs.” I remember the aftermath. There were the same lines then about how they won’t get anything accomplished with burning and looting. I didn’t understand the full depth of what was happening, but I knew in my heart those officers should’ve all been tossed in jail.
I have spent the years since I left there trying my best to learn. To be a better person. I admit I am not perfect. I have so much more to learn. I am guilty of so much bullshit that I don’t have enough words to express how much I deeply regret all of it. I have used the phrase “I try to be colorblind” without knowing what I was saying. I never wanted to be THAT person.
It is only within the last few weeks I’ve learned just how deep casual racism exists. I had to educate myself on how black people were called “Aunt” or “Uncle” because they were not respected enough to be called “Miss/Missus” or “Mister.” I never knew the background of phrases like “grandfathered in” or “peanut gallery” came from such horrible origins. I highly suggest looking it up if you don’t know already.
I’ve never had any great love of the police. As a child I watched my drunken stepfather beat the ever hell out of my mother. I ran to the neighbors and called the police. The police came, and because my stepfather was on the volunteer fire department, they did nothing. They sat him down and said “Now, you know you shouldn’t do that,” and then left us alone with him. I ran away from home to get away from the abuse and each time they would just tell me I was just being rebellious and sent me home to deal with the wrath. They taught me to never trust them. They taught me that they don’t care about you if what you need makes anyone they consider “one of their own” look bad. They taught me that we are not humans in their eyes. We are prey. Unfortunately, the more melanin you happen to be blessed with, the more you are seen as prey.
So, if you are my friend and you are reading this, I am asking you to call me out and educate me if you hear/see me doing something that is racist. I want to learn. I want to do better. I want to BE better.
#BlackLivesMatter