What?
You'll notice the missing gender cues. I'm getting a little too good at reframing my past in an ambiguous way. *sigh* Anyway, don't read if Blatant Examples of Racism bother you. It's just some stuff I'm... remembering?
Growing up, I never considered racism as a reality of daily life. I separated myself from my understanding of racism, believing naively that racism existed, but did not currently exist. In my elementary school, populated primarily by African American and Latino students, we spent a great deal of time focusing on civil rights, Martin Luther King, Jr., Cesar Chavez, and the KKK-- but all through a historical lens. And since, to me, racism wasn't a present reality, no one around me could be racist, least of all my parents. In hindsight, I recognize that many of the “jokes” I remember from that time in my life focused on subjects of race; my mother told me to be careful to not fall for a 'n---' or our children would be 'zebra children'-- half-black, half-white, or saying she'd rather have me gay than dating a person of colour. Comments by my stepfather about “porch monkeys hanging from trees” went over my head, as I scanned the canopy for signs of playful monkeys, perhaps escaped from a nearby zoo.
These statements were always made in jest, as if they shouldn't be taken seriously or repeated in polite company. The idea, however, that schools in “black neighborhoods” were inferiour and riddled with gang violence was constantly perpetuated; my parents made sure that by the time 'the kids would have guns in the schools,' my sister and I were safely ferried to the all-White school in the next town over.
That being said, it isn't surprising that I didn't have very many friends in elementary school who were different racially from me. Those I did have were friends of mine through other friends, and weren't ever invited over for dinner, even though we all lived in the same neighbourhood. Many of my 'best friends' in the younger grades were light-skinned (either Mexican or of mixed racial heritage), as if similar skin colour erased our racial and cultural differences.
Other than my parents, my perspectives of racial diversity were shaped in a large part by faculty and staff. Many of the staff at my elementary school were African-American. One clash between my home culture and the culture of my school that I remember quite vividly involved Martin Luther King Day. Our district observed MLK day as a school holiday-- no classes, just teacher in-service. My mother, for some reason she never fully explained to me, was enraged at this fact-- “he ain't a kin to you,” she explained, “he had nothin' to do with you. Why should you have to stay home because of some black man?” In defiance, she refused to allow either me or my sister to go to school on Lincoln's birthday and made sure Ms. Trudy, our principal, knew exactly the reason why.
But, like I said, I was largely unaware of these events having racial undertones until much much later. I liked my teachers well enough, my 'favourites' were White, and the White teachers treated me better, anyway. The Black teachers never treated me 'fairly,' though, I didn't say it was because of their race, rather recontextualising it as a shortcoming of their personality.
Growing up, I never considered racism as a reality of daily life. I separated myself from my understanding of racism, believing naively that racism existed, but did not currently exist. In my elementary school, populated primarily by African American and Latino students, we spent a great deal of time focusing on civil rights, Martin Luther King, Jr., Cesar Chavez, and the KKK-- but all through a historical lens. And since, to me, racism wasn't a present reality, no one around me could be racist, least of all my parents. In hindsight, I recognize that many of the “jokes” I remember from that time in my life focused on subjects of race; my mother told me to be careful to not fall for a 'n---' or our children would be 'zebra children'-- half-black, half-white, or saying she'd rather have me gay than dating a person of colour. Comments by my stepfather about “porch monkeys hanging from trees” went over my head, as I scanned the canopy for signs of playful monkeys, perhaps escaped from a nearby zoo.
These statements were always made in jest, as if they shouldn't be taken seriously or repeated in polite company. The idea, however, that schools in “black neighborhoods” were inferiour and riddled with gang violence was constantly perpetuated; my parents made sure that by the time 'the kids would have guns in the schools,' my sister and I were safely ferried to the all-White school in the next town over.
That being said, it isn't surprising that I didn't have very many friends in elementary school who were different racially from me. Those I did have were friends of mine through other friends, and weren't ever invited over for dinner, even though we all lived in the same neighbourhood. Many of my 'best friends' in the younger grades were light-skinned (either Mexican or of mixed racial heritage), as if similar skin colour erased our racial and cultural differences.
Other than my parents, my perspectives of racial diversity were shaped in a large part by faculty and staff. Many of the staff at my elementary school were African-American. One clash between my home culture and the culture of my school that I remember quite vividly involved Martin Luther King Day. Our district observed MLK day as a school holiday-- no classes, just teacher in-service. My mother, for some reason she never fully explained to me, was enraged at this fact-- “he ain't a kin to you,” she explained, “he had nothin' to do with you. Why should you have to stay home because of some black man?” In defiance, she refused to allow either me or my sister to go to school on Lincoln's birthday and made sure Ms. Trudy, our principal, knew exactly the reason why.
But, like I said, I was largely unaware of these events having racial undertones until much much later. I liked my teachers well enough, my 'favourites' were White, and the White teachers treated me better, anyway. The Black teachers never treated me 'fairly,' though, I didn't say it was because of their race, rather recontextualising it as a shortcoming of their personality.