Casual Racism--It's Not OK

In my early 20s I joined several NYC theater companies, happy to be a part of any group that would have me as a member.

One group was particularly small and was most focused on "collective" work. We met every week to read plays, to discuss vision, to vote on prospective members.

And every member of the group was white (yes, I count Ashkenazi Jewish as white).

Toward the end of my short year with the group I remarked to a member -- a West Virginian native -- that maybe we should try to bring in more racially or culturally diverse members. He shrugged and asked why. 

I thought this would be self-evident, but gave him the usual reasons about inclusiveness and representing at least some of the many cultures as New York had to offer. Or, more importantly, NOT excluding people for superficial reasons. 

He argued that we had no control over who applied to be a member. I suggested that we could advertise in less homogenous communities. 

He shrugged again, saying it wasn't important, then added, "Yeah. I don't know. I don't really care. I don't think it matters." My jaw dropped. 

He read my expression and added, "I guess I'm kind of racist. I don't know. It was just the way I was raised. You know, that like they just aren't as good as us? It's just how I feel. It's the way I was raised." My jaw welded to the floor. 

Seriously?!?!?!

It was like he was saying, "So, big deal if I'm a bigot, it's not my fault, and it doesn't really matter." But it was his fault. And it absolutely did matter!

Did he ever consider that any non-white prospective member just might pick up on this attitude and react accordingly? Did he ever consider that just maybe this was a heinous belief system that was responsible for some of our culture's most hateful acts??

No. 

To him it was just "how he was raised" -- in the same way a person might be raised to eat with a fork, or to love football, or to say please and thank you. But instead of being raised to have good manners, he was raised to have contempt based on skin color; and contempt is a close cousin to hatred and oppression.

Yes, racism was his "family value" -- which he embraced with a shrug of defiant indifference: If it doesn't matter, why should he bother to change it?

But racism isn't a "family value". I'ts not a "tradition" any more than child abuse is: Just because parents do it doesn't mean its OK to abuse the next generation!!

Racism is a destructive belief system -- even when it's latent -- that affects everyone in a culture: We may not be acting directly on destructive and hateful beliefs, but those beliefs influence other aspects of our behavior, as well as those around us ... who may be more inclined to act directly.

And that is important -- something for our all of us to care deeply about. 

As we have seen.

Regardless of "how we are raised" we must not unconsciously absorb the beliefs and values surrounding us.

As adults, we have a responsibility to test those values against our developing conscience. If we find ourselves holding a hateful belief, at least question it; don't chalk it up to it being "just how we feel." 

Because, while we may not be able to control how we feel, we might examine those feelings and the needs behind them. 

More importantly, evaluate how much these feelings affect our attitudes and actions, and ask: Do these beliefs harm others or ourselves? Do they cause us to hold others in contempt, to consider them less-than? If so, why would we cling to such a belief? 

To start, just ask the question... 

It is not OK to blindly perpetuate harmful attitudes as though we have no choice in the matter, as though it's "just how we're raised". We need to care and we need to choose our values.

But the only way to truly have a choice is to recognize that the beliefs we are hold are chosen, to look at why we have chosen to hold them, and acknowledge that we have the ability to un-choose them if they are harmful.  

But to do this takes honesty, introspection, and a willingness to change.

Never Judge! (Things are rarely what they seem...)

Chatting with a friend last night in front of Penn Station, we became aware of a large, heavy-set man standing a few feet from my left shoulder staring at us.

We were making our goodbyes, subtly upping the level of our chat to block our awareness of this odd fellow  and his persistent gaze.

"Well, OK, see you later!" I chirped, stepping backwards.

"Um excuse me," said the man. I looked down with a frustrated huff, preparing to deliver my usual firm-but-compassionate lie, "I'm sorry I don't have any money" -- but the moment I opened my mouth to say, "I'm so--" something in his eyes caught my breath. I looked at my friend, who had a similar reaction.

"Hi..." he fumbled, "I'm uh..... I'm sorry to interrupt but I just wanted to say I was watching you two talking... and, I don't know, just the way you are looking at each other and listening to each other ... Well, I don't want to say.. uh... about your relationship. But whatever it is, it's beautiful."

We looked at each other, and at him, both completely speechless for a few seconds. I couldn't wrap my mind around what this was... Was he suggesting we were lovers and leering at us looking for some lesbo action? Maybe.. but his tone wasn't "leery" or "creepy." It was kind of warm and sweet ... and sincere.

Maybe, just maybe ... he was moved and curious and just wanted to say something nice.

"Um... thank you," my friend said, returning his smile.

"Yeah..." I smiled too, "that's very sweet of you to say."

"I don't mean to be weird or anything... I just wanted to .. you know...." he trailed off.

"Yeah," my friend said, "Thank you."

"You have a good night now." He turned and headed towards Penn.

My friend and I regarded each other for a moment. "Um.. that was ... kind of nice!" she said. I agreed.

We made our goodbyes and she headed down the subway steps. As I walked over to Duane Reade I turned the episode over in my mind. Was it weird and creepy? Was he just hitting on us?

Maybe... probably ... But you know what? If a guy is going to hit on me, then that is the way he should do it:  respectful, appreciative, sincere -- asking nothing more than simply to be heard and received with a smile.

Mr. Doodle and the Creeps

Numbly trudging home last night with over 50 pounds of groceries hanging off my body in various packs, slings and totes, with aching feet and groaning shoulders, I found myself walking alongside a young man munching his way through a bag of chips.

I was barely aware of him for over half of the long block before my building when he said, "I'd offer you a Dipsy Doodle but you don't look like you're in the mood."

As with most women in the city, my first impulse was to cross the street and get away from this creep.

In the past, I've spat, screamed and hissed at men who have approached me on the street. "Who the FUCK do they think they are?!?" I rage and boil.

But then I realized that there was, in fact, nothing creepy, leery or even weird in this particular man's tone. If anything, it was a little shy -- rough and good natured.

Plus his remark was about my mood, and did not strike me as being slimy or patronizing.

Creeps -- inasmuch as they ever notice a woman's mood -- say things like, "Hey baby, I got something to cheer you up."

But that was not this guy.

I laughed and turned to him; he grinned and shrugged sheepishly, raising the bag towards me.

"You know," I chirped, "I am in the mood!"

I reached in and pulled out his last Doodle.

"Have a good night!" he smiled, turned a corner and went on his merry way.

So -- for all the guys who think it's OK to say whatever they want to women on the street -- I began to think, what made this guy's actions not creepy?

In most cases, those exact same words in that exact same situation could have been very creepy indeed. I think part of what disarmed me was that I had come up behind him while he was walking, and not the other way around.

But mostly it was his tone. It was simply not the tone of a creep.

Creeps view any and all attractive women as potential sperm receptacles and little more. They have no more concern or ability to consider a woman's point of view than they would to consider the point of view of candy bar.

In the creep mind, women are there to be consumed.

If a woman tells a creep she isn't interested, this means nothing to the creep brain. If she says she has a cop/boxer/football player boyfriend, then this will usually (though not always) make a dent in him.

To the creep mind (and this is the most generous definition of the word "mind") only the presence of another male possessor can deter his "right" to whatever woman he wants.

Any action of the woman, up to and possibly including bashing him with a soup can, is seen as a come-on. (Once a Ruskie creep asked me for directions while I was pulling gristle out of my teeth. "What is zis sing you are doing wis your tongue???" he slathered. I wish I had puked on him.)

Anyway.

None of that was present with Mr. Doodle.

Granted, he might not have felt the liberty or desire to say something to another man walking down the street, similarly burdened and sad.

But I don't think it's completely wrong for men to speak to women on the street, or for there to be a hint of flirtation about it, especially if their approach does not assume anything.

And Mr. Doodle didn't.

He was just a nice guy who saw a woman in the dumps and wanted to make her laugh.

And it made me sad to think how close I came to shooting him down -- but doubly glad that I didn't.