I grew up in the South Jersey suburbs of Philadelphia. My mother and I would get on the bus to Philly to get school clothes and shoes each July or August. I lived in a neighborhood with mostly white people, with a very few members of other races. When I got to high school, it was in a town about 7 miles away that had mixed races, and I met people who did not look like me. There were no serious issues with race, but once I remember two girls fist fighting, one white, one black. I don’t remember how it ended, but it never happened again during my years in high school. As a result, I did not recognize prejudice against those of different races, we had interracial friends, it was considered normal.
I hate racism, just like I hate misogyny. Both punish people for something over which they had no control. If I’m going to treat someone with disrespect, it will only be because they did something to earn it.
We had a pretty good mix in the south chicago suburbs where I grew up. Just a bunch of working class folk of all persuasions. The most severe racial animosities I experienced were in my own home, especially from my mom.
I think it’s a sign of mental illness. I was lucky for a kid with prejudiced parents. I had several close Black friends growing up. Hearing the n word infuriated me.
During my brief time there I remember the Black Panthers giving free books, free bag lunches and a sense of community. I vaguely remember Martin Luther King, Jr. and other great people being murdered because they cared. I remember outstanding teachers, entertainers and others encouraging world-class excellence. I even remember the names of a few friends and families I encountered during those formative years.
I guess you could say I was sort of mentored when I was a teenager from a social justice standpoint by a 30ish Black dude who I visited frequently at his home, which was a bit of a hippy dippy place but with a lot of Black nationalist paraphernalia around the house. He lived with 3 other guys, two of whom were white, and I learned that there was nothing threatening about Black nationalism. It was really just a movement that demanded equality, and pushed for individual expression (for example, giving babies African names based on national heritage — that nation being their ancestors nation of origin, if they knew it, or wearing African-style clothing), I was absolutely fascinated by all of it growing up.
I can’t remember how I met this guy. These days, he’d be accused of grooming me, lol. He was one of the nicest humans I’ve ever known.
My social justice tendencies might be instinctive (I never understood racism), but core values were shown to me by others.
I've read that lynchings are taking place in the US again. Not mentioned in the legacy media.
Yet another reason to avoid the country.
You are right about lynchings occurring… and mainstream media just ignores those incidents.
It's disturbing that they neglect this horror.
I grew up in the South Jersey suburbs of Philadelphia. My mother and I would get on the bus to Philly to get school clothes and shoes each July or August. I lived in a neighborhood with mostly white people, with a very few members of other races. When I got to high school, it was in a town about 7 miles away that had mixed races, and I met people who did not look like me. There were no serious issues with race, but once I remember two girls fist fighting, one white, one black. I don’t remember how it ended, but it never happened again during my years in high school. As a result, I did not recognize prejudice against those of different races, we had interracial friends, it was considered normal.
I hate racism, just like I hate misogyny. Both punish people for something over which they had no control. If I’m going to treat someone with disrespect, it will only be because they did something to earn it.
We had a pretty good mix in the south chicago suburbs where I grew up. Just a bunch of working class folk of all persuasions. The most severe racial animosities I experienced were in my own home, especially from my mom.
I think it’s a sign of mental illness. I was lucky for a kid with prejudiced parents. I had several close Black friends growing up. Hearing the n word infuriated me.
I hate the n word too. I’ve seldom heard it, but it is hateful, and I would prefer love over hate every day.
During my brief time there I remember the Black Panthers giving free books, free bag lunches and a sense of community. I vaguely remember Martin Luther King, Jr. and other great people being murdered because they cared. I remember outstanding teachers, entertainers and others encouraging world-class excellence. I even remember the names of a few friends and families I encountered during those formative years.
I guess you could say I was sort of mentored when I was a teenager from a social justice standpoint by a 30ish Black dude who I visited frequently at his home, which was a bit of a hippy dippy place but with a lot of Black nationalist paraphernalia around the house. He lived with 3 other guys, two of whom were white, and I learned that there was nothing threatening about Black nationalism. It was really just a movement that demanded equality, and pushed for individual expression (for example, giving babies African names based on national heritage — that nation being their ancestors nation of origin, if they knew it, or wearing African-style clothing), I was absolutely fascinated by all of it growing up.
I can’t remember how I met this guy. These days, he’d be accused of grooming me, lol. He was one of the nicest humans I’ve ever known.
My social justice tendencies might be instinctive (I never understood racism), but core values were shown to me by others.
Beautifully written. And I agree we are going in the wrong direction. I want to hope something will change in November.
Thanks so much. It will, if people bother to vote in the Midterms for a change.