Cut n Pasted from another site
I am a white guy. I make rice look dark. I'm 5'11", 215 lbs. and the most average looking guy you could find. In the city of Chicago, I blend right in with the other Irish mutts.
The military was not an eye opener to me for race - meaning, I went to Chicago public schools, okay? I WAS the minority. However, I did notice some things that I might not have if I hadn't met some of the great men and women serving our country.
Just a few months ago, my friend Paul had leave from the Army and came to visit family here in Chicago. Of course, we spent a few night boozing around the town. Paul is black (BTW, he would tell Jesse Jackson to shove his 'African American' moniker right up his ass). Paul and I share the same last name. We also went to Ranger School together. We were Army Officers. We had a lot in common and knew each other very, very well.
Paul is comfortable with the 'black' label. Or so I thought...
One night, we had been drinking at Dublin's (my favorite Irish pub) for several hours and were moving north towards the touristy, cheesy, bar district known as Rush & Division. The closer you get to R&D, the more bums appear becasue there are more tourists to prey on. In Chicago, we name our bums (that's another post for later). We were hammered.
Paul and I were walking up the street. A bum approached and begged for money. He was about 5'6" and skinny, dressed in a, dirty, mis-matched sweatsuit. He was black. All he wanted was our loose change.
Paul lost control and got in the bum's face.
Paul yelling: "Don't you @#$%ing get it?!"
The Bum was startled: "What? It's cool, it's cool."
Paul screaming now: "You ruin it for the rest of us! Because of a$$holes like you, I have to be better than him!" Paul points at me.
Oh, Shit!
Paul lowers his voice a bit: "Because of a$$holes like you, every time someone sees me, I have to better than everyone else. Because of assholes like you, I have to prove myself every. @#$%ing. day!"
Wow!
Paul quieter now: "@#$% you, jacka$$. You are what is ruining our people..."
Paul storms off and I follow him. The bum is rapidly moving away from us at this point.
We went into Butch McGuire's and ordered beers and shots of whiskey. Then, Paul and I began to have a very frank discussion about racism and what it does to people. All people.
You see, Paul lives in a place that I will never live in. He lives in a place where women hold their purses tighter when he walks by. He lives in a place where he can't go inside a 7-11 without being watched the entire time. He lives in a place where cabs won't pick us up if he is the one hailing the cab. While I don't really notice it all that much, Paul sees it all of the time, every damn day of his life.
I won't ever understand how he feels about it because I can't live there. No matter that I was a minority in school or here in my home city. No matter if I attend Diversity training at work. No matter if I listen to the same music he listens to, eat the same food he eats, go to the same clubs and bars that he goes to...
Both of us have been forced to live in separate places. Unfortunately, there aren't any guidelines to understanding race or racism. Race hits people below the conscious - some place where experience is the only way to understand, where those who experience it can't explain it to those that don't experience it. Where all I can do is listen, try to understand, and try to recognize it when I see it.
And admire men like Paul...
I am a white guy. I make rice look dark. I'm 5'11", 215 lbs. and the most average looking guy you could find. In the city of Chicago, I blend right in with the other Irish mutts.
The military was not an eye opener to me for race - meaning, I went to Chicago public schools, okay? I WAS the minority. However, I did notice some things that I might not have if I hadn't met some of the great men and women serving our country.
Just a few months ago, my friend Paul had leave from the Army and came to visit family here in Chicago. Of course, we spent a few night boozing around the town. Paul is black (BTW, he would tell Jesse Jackson to shove his 'African American' moniker right up his ass). Paul and I share the same last name. We also went to Ranger School together. We were Army Officers. We had a lot in common and knew each other very, very well.
Paul is comfortable with the 'black' label. Or so I thought...
One night, we had been drinking at Dublin's (my favorite Irish pub) for several hours and were moving north towards the touristy, cheesy, bar district known as Rush & Division. The closer you get to R&D, the more bums appear becasue there are more tourists to prey on. In Chicago, we name our bums (that's another post for later). We were hammered.
Paul and I were walking up the street. A bum approached and begged for money. He was about 5'6" and skinny, dressed in a, dirty, mis-matched sweatsuit. He was black. All he wanted was our loose change.
Paul lost control and got in the bum's face.
Paul yelling: "Don't you @#$%ing get it?!"
The Bum was startled: "What? It's cool, it's cool."
Paul screaming now: "You ruin it for the rest of us! Because of a$$holes like you, I have to be better than him!" Paul points at me.
Oh, Shit!
Paul lowers his voice a bit: "Because of a$$holes like you, every time someone sees me, I have to better than everyone else. Because of assholes like you, I have to prove myself every. @#$%ing. day!"
Wow!
Paul quieter now: "@#$% you, jacka$$. You are what is ruining our people..."
Paul storms off and I follow him. The bum is rapidly moving away from us at this point.
We went into Butch McGuire's and ordered beers and shots of whiskey. Then, Paul and I began to have a very frank discussion about racism and what it does to people. All people.
You see, Paul lives in a place that I will never live in. He lives in a place where women hold their purses tighter when he walks by. He lives in a place where he can't go inside a 7-11 without being watched the entire time. He lives in a place where cabs won't pick us up if he is the one hailing the cab. While I don't really notice it all that much, Paul sees it all of the time, every damn day of his life.
I won't ever understand how he feels about it because I can't live there. No matter that I was a minority in school or here in my home city. No matter if I attend Diversity training at work. No matter if I listen to the same music he listens to, eat the same food he eats, go to the same clubs and bars that he goes to...
Both of us have been forced to live in separate places. Unfortunately, there aren't any guidelines to understanding race or racism. Race hits people below the conscious - some place where experience is the only way to understand, where those who experience it can't explain it to those that don't experience it. Where all I can do is listen, try to understand, and try to recognize it when I see it.
And admire men like Paul...
