On Racism:
At 15, I started working at a black-owned and staffed Burger King in my neighborhood. Though I was the only white person there, they never made me feel out of place because of my skin color. My boss and coworkers treated me as a friend. Though not like a friend they would take to meet their families. I will say that I was terrible at making Whoppers. My sandwich making skills were less than stellar. I remember once blowing up the grease in the french fryer. So although I tried, I was never employee of the month material. Sometimes we partied in the back of Burger King. I even brought in some of the weed to share.
But growing up, I’ll admit that my neighborhood friends had it worse than me. My best friend’s father was an alcoholic building manager, who embarrassed me by the way he belittled his son in public. Some of my friends were molested at a young age, because nobody took that seriously back then, especially when it happened to poor kids. One of my close friends didn’t disclose this to me until we were adults. Racist attitudes were everywhere. The southern Appalachian transplants hated the blacks. Most of the white kids I knew, some of who were also racist, dropped out of school because they were frequently beat up because of their skin color. My baseball friend, across the street, exploded one night with his shotgun, killing several people in a bar where he thought they had slandered his sister as a prostitute. Which, by the way, she was. They stabbed one of my foster brothers in the center of his back trying to break up a mugging. An older, adopted brother was shot in Vietnam. Indeed the times were turbulent, but there was always love and friendship to get through the hurtful things..
Now around this time, you might wonder which incidents occurred with blacks and which with whites. Well, I’ll tell you, just because you still may think it’s important.
The man who killed my brother was southern Appalachian white. Whose family, upset with the trial, threatened my father, saying, you still got one boy right rev? I didn’t know this until much later. It was the reason they insisted I go to college out of town.
The man who stabbed my foster brother was black.
The man who shot my adopted brother was probably Vietnamese.
The mayor who helped my father bring so much money and programs to the inner-city was black.
The kids I played parking lot baseball with at my grandparents were Mexican
My childhood friend, Gary, when I first discovered racism was black.
My best friend in middle school was black.
A girl so kind and patient with me when I was going through tough times during my freshman and sophomore years in high school was black.
My girlfriend who carried me through the last two years of high school was Mexican.
The man who molested some of my friends was white,
The man who, when I was 12, cornered me in a bus, asking me to suck his dick, was black.
My murdered brother, Robert’s, best friend Bussie, was black. After Robert’s death, he just kind of faded away.
The gang, from another school, that beat me up in high school was black, as were 80% of my high school classmates angry about the incident and vowing to get revenge.
The men who daily propositioned my sisters from their cars, thinking they were prostitutes, were white.
The man whose death I mourned two weeks ago, whom I considered a little brother, was black. I still smile thinking about all the times he looked at me and said, “You just be crazy Richard”.
How’s your scorecard going? I never had one, except for the one I bought at the Tiger’s Opening Day baseball game.
Yes, like you I am racist, in fact I make preconceived judgements about many characteristics of people. The only way I know to break this vicious cycle is to get to know as many kinds of people as possible. Then we’ll look at others as whole people, not just reflections of our own fears and preconceptions.
There are so many more stories, but if you’re reading this to get confirmation of your biases, look somewhere else.
And please remember as you look at my white face, bowed legs and sometimes serious demeanor, I, like you, are so much more than what we see.
Peace & Love!