Race

I am a racist.

Not a George Wallace racist.  I am more subtle than that.  But a racist nonetheless.

I want to talk about it because I am not particularly proud of that fact.

Maybe I should back up a minute.  I am a racist the way a lot of people are racists but never admit it.  I am talking all kinds of people including people that don’t think of themselves as racists yet are.

Talking about racism is hard so sometimes I am going to talk about homophobia, a subject that’s easier for me to talk about because it’s not as controversial.

In fact, it was when I dealt with my homophobic feelings that I realized I was a racist.  I am a homophobe, too.  And I am gay but then I am dark skinned, too.

What makes me a racist?

I think what makes me a racist is that I still, despite knowing better, haven’t gotten beyond skin color.

Now I admit I have tried.  I have even gone so far as to consider making friends with a black person in order to overcome my racial feelings but I live in Phoenix and with the exception of Salt Lake City there probably isn’t another large metropolitan area in the U.S. with fewer black people.  What I am trying to say is that I want to make friends with a black person but it’s difficult to naturally form friendships with black people when you live in a town where you can go all day without seeing a black person.  I mean I don’t want to make friends with a black person just because they are black.  I want it to happen more naturally than that.  I may be a racist but I’m not an insensitive racist.

But that’s getting off topic.  What makes me a racist is that when I see a black person that is the first thing, the middle thing and the last thing I notice – that person’s skin color – and I know that’s not right.  I should see the person first and the skin color should be secondary – it should be background music like his or her height or weight or shoe size. 

What is the point of this whole post?

Well, I am making progress.  Very slowly.  And that progress emboldens me.  It emboldens me so much that I am willing to risk being attacked for being racist in order to address my shortcomings.

And the fact that nobody reads my blog makes it easier for me to address this very sensitive issue.

What is this progress you might ask?  OK, here goes.  The last few years I have been experiencing something that I have never experienced before.  I see a black person and sometimes, instead of that person’s skin color being the first thing that comes to mind, I see something else.

I’ll give you an example.  Last summer I was waiting at a light and a jogger stopped just ahead of me.  He took off his shirt and I saw a very trim body; no body fat.  First, it was insane to be jogging in 115 degree heat but what was most strange about this experience is that something kept nagging me as I witnessed this young man strip off his shirt – I just couldn’t place what it was that was nagging me.  Than it hit me.  His skin was black.  This European’s skin was black.  And that is my breakthrough.  Now every once in a while when I see a black person I see some other dimension than skin color and it takes a while to register that this person is African, too.

So my breakthrough is that I saw a European where before I would have seen an African or to be honest where I would have seen a black person.  And it’s not about the skin color.  It’s about the whole package.  The whole package is that this person struck me as being European because he was so much more European than anything else that I didn’t see the anything else. 

I don’t know what this says about me that I can forget a black person's skin color but only infrequently.  I am almost afraid to ask.

But it is happening on a more frequent basis.  I am use to this happening when it is a white person or Hispanic or Asian or a mixed person of Asian and white heritage or of Hispanic and white heritage but having this happen with a black person or a mixed person of African and white heritage is a fairly recent development.

I think this might be happening now because of all the Indians from India I work with.  With Indians I oftentimes see a European person with dark skin.  The Indians often seem Italian or Irish or even German.  It is almost like I knew this guy back in Chicago but back then his name was Palumbo or Dieter or O’Malley not Surya or Javed or Dhiraj.  I don’t see how others don’t see this.  It is so evident. It’s like seeing double; same face, build, height, weight, etc.

I guess I thought this old dog couldn’t learn new tricks but now I know this old dog can still learn new tricks and I want to.

But I know more progress needs to be made. 

Why is it so hard to unlearn prejudice?

I think it is a trust thing.  Intellectually I know it is wrong but emotionally I must still not trust black people enough to let go of the underlying fears (whatever those fears are these fears exist even if I am not conscious of them and don’t even know how they got there) long enough to stop bringing race to the forefront instead of leaving it in the background where it belongs.

Did I mention I am a dark skin person?  And also gay?  Well, I mentioned that because I have gotten over most of my homophobia in a natural way so in my mind what I did for homophobia I should also be able to do for racism.

What did I do?  Well, I am a masculine gay man and for years I felt uncomfortable around effeminate gay men. Get an effeminate gay man around me and all I would notice was his hand flurries and the way he moved his hips and the voice, especially the voice, and I never, ever got beyond the fact that he was effeminate.  I wasn’t proud of how I felt even though all my masculine gay buddies felt as much or more disdain than I did.  They may have thought it was OK but I knew it was not OK even if I felt just as uncomfortable as they did.   Because after all how could I as a gay man expect to be treated equally by straight people when I had disdain for other gay people.  I mean I can’t actually demand respect when I was not giving it.  Yet I didn’t know how to let go of whatever it was that kept me from accepting my effeminate brothers as equals.  Fortunately for me, my best friend had an effeminate gay lover that cut my hair.  So every six or seven weeks I would sit down and talk to this effeminate guy with his flurry of hands and his sashaying hips and listen to that voice.  And what I found was a real human being.  Someone constantly stared at even when doing mundane things like grocery shopping.  Someone afraid to go into a men’s locker room.  I listened to him and laughed and joked and then one day, after months of getting my hair cut by him, I trusted him enough to let go of my fear of effeminate men (and who would have guess that a masculine man like me had a fear of effeminate men) long enough to start hearing what he had to say.  All I know is that one day all this static (“look at this hands flurrying”, “look at his hips sashaying”, that voice, omg, that voice) was gone and Chris (that’s what his name was) started coming through loud and clear.  I realized I was hearing Chris so much better because the static I had never before been aware of was gone.  I was really hearing Chris for the first time.  But get this.  It didn’t happen overnight.  It took time.  Lots of time.  But it was so worth the time and effort.  It was and is so liberating.

And that’s what I want to do with black people.  I want to rid myself of all that static.  But I am not there yet.  I guess that won’t happen until I make friends with a black person and then only if I have enough patience to give me enough time to trust enough to let go of that fear whatever it is.  But it has to happen naturally.  I won’t make friends with a black person just to get over my racism.  That’s like making a friend with an effeminate guy just to get over my homophobia. That’s just too insensitive.  I couldn’t do that to anyone even for a good cause.

But on the other hand, if some straight guy said to me “Phil, I like you but I want you to know that I am having trouble getting over the fact that you are gay” then I think I would react positively because I would know he was trying and there was a good chance of success.  However, I don’t think I would feel the same way if a white guy said to me that he liked me but that he wanted me to know that he was having trouble getting over the fact that I was Puerto Rican.  I know I would have more trouble with that because I would be thinking of my half Puerto Rican kids.

I guess that’s why talking about racism is more difficult to talk about than homophobia.  And why I am more willing to accept prejudice in others when it comes to my sexuality then when it comes to my ethnicity.  Because more often with race or ethnicity than with homosexuality it impacts people we love; people we love more than ourselves.

So my long range goal is not to become color blind but to have a person’s skin color just be another factor like hair or eye color or masculinity/femininity.  I just wish I could hurry the process along.

Because I know the person that would benefit the most if I could overcome my shortcomings would be me.  It would be so liberating.

Any thoughts?

Deja Vu...all over again

I was in our local bookstore. I knew what he was up to the moment I saw him. He was off to the side but staring intently at the Culture Studies section. Since he didn't look Hispanic or Asian or African American and he wasn't a woman then it must be the GLBT shelf. I am intimately familiar with that shelf. It is two-thirds full of titles mostly written 10 or more years ago. The GLBT shelf had been my destination. I changed direction and headed towards the Bargain section. I didn't want my presence scaring him off. I noticed the slight build and youthful clothes. I purposely didn't look at his face.

Later on while in the bargain section trying to convince myself to buy another book I will probably never read, "blue shirt" walked by and stood in the cashier line. Impulsively I grabbed my $4.98 special and got in line behind him. He was holding a tradebook in his hand with the title face down. I watched him make his purchase. His voice held but his hands gave away his nervousness. Or was it my over-active imagination at work? I watched the young man walk away. Seemed to me that his pace quickened as he neared the door. The cashier was talking to me. I was being rude and turned my attention away from the young man. I held eye contact with the cashier longer than I should have. He gave me a half smile. Here was a kindred spirit. I wondered if he was thinking of what had just transpired, too.

When I got outside I felt silly but searched for the young man. He was gone. As I waited for my ride, I couldn't help but think of another young man long ago and how that young man's heart had pounded while making his purchase and the relief he had felt when the cashier nonchalantly rang up and bagged the purchase without accusation. I can even remember the title. "Men on Men", the first in a wonderful series. My ride arrived.

Depression

I don't know what is going on. He use to work far from where we live so I never got to see him but then he was in between jobs and we started spending a lot of time together. Then he got a job where I worked and for a while we met on breaks and went to lunch and talked almost every day. And we both belong to the same gym so we started working out together once or twice a week. I enjoy being around him so I'm at a loss as to why recently I have also felt depressed. I am sure people think we are a couple even though we are not. I didn't think it bothered me what people thought; not even the guys at the gym. The way I see it - I know what we are to each other and we are just friends. But I have to admit that we have a closer friendship than most guys. But something is bothering me enough that I am fighting this depression for at least two weeks. And, except for the occasional gay pon farr, I almost never get depressed for more than a couple of hours. I was thinking I would just wait this feeling out but then what's a blog for if not to talk about the things bothering you. At least I got it off my chest. Maybe tomorrow the depression will lift.