I come to you today
with an issue that has been near and dear to my heart for awhile now.
This issue of hatred seems to be a sensitive one in our society
today. One that shouldn't be a problem, but sadly is. I've avoided
writing about the subject simply because it's a hard one to comment
on in our politically correct era. This topic that I wish to share
about today is racism.
I grew up in a
small town in northern Minnesota, that was mainly inhabited by
Scandinavians. Although I was living in an essentially exclusive
culture, we were raised with all sorts of diversity. My parents did
not let us grow up naive like many others in our community. We
learned about different people groups from all over the world.
Learning meant trying their foods, discovering their religious
beliefs, their history, their traditions, and never was it looked at
as strange. It was merely normal. For the younger years of my life,
the fact that some people are prejudice against differences never
crossed my mind. In my world it was as simple as the fact that
although the water in my bath and the ice cubes in my coke seemed
different, they were the same substance. I grew up believing that
there are differences and commonalities between every person, and
those things aren't wrong or strange, they just are.
As we entered
our reading years, my mom started introducing us to the cold
existence of racism. I will never forget the first book I read about
racism. I was about eight years old, and my world revolved around the
American girl dolls and their stories. Each doll had a chapter book
that told her story and the events unfolding in history during her
time. I never got the dolls, but I was able to go to the library and
borrow the books. After reading roughly thirty different stories only
one is burned into my mind forever. Written in first person, the book
was about an adolescent slave girl named Addie. My world became
shaken; I couldn't believe that one human being could be so cruel to
another human being. And to a little girl no less. My sleeping eyes
were suddenly awakened by the glaring light. A light I couldn't turn
off.
From then, all
the way through high school, I read book after book. I started with
our countries history with racism, then spread out across the globe,
over years and years of generations and past events. This was an
issue in the past that spanned through and touched thousands of lives
and countries. I read novels, biographies, and history books, along
with quite a few disheartening films. I was not blind to the
injustices of our past. Then came the second most influential moment
in my life related to this issue of discrimination.
During my teen
years, my family did foster care, and every other weekend we had a
set of African American two-year-old twin boys who came to stay with
us. On one particular Saturday afternoon they seemed to have an extra
bit of energy; consequently, we struggled to get shoes, jackets, and
hats on but, finally we were prepared for the park. When we arrived,
there were already two white mothers there with their children
playing. We set the boys free, and the park became filled with
laughter and little toddler introductions. Not even five minutes
later the mothers looked up from their all-consuming conversation on
the park bench and seemed to have a mini heart-attack. Quickly they
jumped up and scrambled to gather their purses and children. Glaring
at us, they hurried their protesting youngsters off to the minivans
sitting in the parking lot.
The look of
anger in my mother's eyes made the realization of what had just
happened hit me hard. I had just witnessed first hand one human being
treating another with utter disrespect for absolutely no reason. My
next mission had just been brought to my attention. I needed to know
how prevalent racism was in modern day America. Determined, I set to
work. The results of my research were heartbreaking and maddening.
About five years
after all of these revelations unfolded, I moved to the great ATL.
Everything that I had read and learned about in my quiet little town,
I was now living in and witnessing firsthand. The diversity in
styles, beliefs, cultures, and races had me over the moon. Before
moving to Atlanta, I had the opportunity to travel a lot, to
experience bits and pieces of diversity. But, to be able to live in
it full time was a freeing feeling. You'll quickly realize that when
you live in a diverse area not only do you experience the greatness
of it but, you also experience the heartbreak of it. As a white
female many say that I don't personally experience the cruelty of
racism, I'd beg to differ though.
The people that
I care about, I care about because of who they are not because of the
differences or commonalities between us. I love all these people
dearly, and when anyone one of them gets hit hard in this battle of
racism, it hits me hard too. When stereotypes get forced upon them,
labeling them as something they're not, my anger starts to boil. When
a child I babysit comes home crying because of something said in the
lunch room, the tears run down my face as well. When I can walk
around with no fear of the assumptions and corruption going on in our
cities, but the person I'm walking with can't, I ache for justice and
equality. I may not be the one getting the brunt of the injustices,
but I do feel it very personally.
There are many
different reasons why racism is still a looming problem in our
country, but I'd like to take a moment to state one of the biggest.
Here in America there is a majority, and there is a minority, and
those of us who are in the majority have done a thing far worse than
the vocal racists. I was waiting at the train station a few weekends
ago when a young white man came and sat next to me. Our conversation
took the typical route for first-time introductions. Two or three
questions in he asked me where I was from. I stated that I was from
Atlanta, GA and his eyes got really big. Lowering his voice, he
leaned in a little closer and asked me if I was one of the only white
people living down there. That right there is our problem, ignorance.
The majority of
people know racism exists, but people also enjoy comfort zones and
hate conviction. We'd rather hear the rescue stories of the poor
puppies at the animal shelter; than the stories that reveal the
corruption that is creeping around in our cities. I could sit here
giving you statistic after statistic, story after story, reason after
reason, just to convince and inform you of the extent of the
epidemic. I'm not going to though because you have to want the
information; you have to have a heart for the issue presently at
hand. I'm not going to treat this problem how we treat every other
problem in America. This isn't about animal cruelty, environmental
friendliness, or the chemicals in our food. No, this is about HUMANS.
Human rights. Human love. Human compassion. Human equality. If you're
not going to have any compassion towards the relevance of racism
without the statistics, graphs, and emotional videos neatly placed in
front of you then you may be more racist than you think. I don't want
to sit here and judge people, but I do want to encourage people to
step outside the scope of their knowledge and explore. If you realize
that yes, there is a serious issue at hand go, study the statistics,
soak up the history, listen to the stories, allow your eyes to open
so that a change may begin.
Ignorance is a
dangerous source of injustice. Those who are openly racist rely on
you not wanting to know the facts so that they can continue on in
their exploitation. If nobody cares to know about what is going on in
our backyards, then it's going to keep happening. I don't want that,
and I'm getting tired of hearing uninformed and offensive questions.
Let's come out from underneath our warm, comfortable blankets and
face reality. There are generations coming up after us, and they are
going to be watching. What do you want them to see?
