Race Colored Glasses
By: Molly Secours
Tennessee Tribune
Originally posted 12/01/2005
The other day I received an irate e-mail from someone responding to a recent article I had written.
"Why can't you write about something else besides race?"
She was unnerved by the notion that I seem to 'see racism everywhere' and perhaps it was my obsession with it rather than racism being palpable and undeniable. She also suggested that I was just one of those 'guilty white people' trying to assuage the pangs of culpability by writing about it and making other white people feel bad -- hence elevating myself.
At first I was tempted to fire off a quick and equally irate response but then decided to wait a few days and think about her suggestion that I was 'obsessed' and to determine if I was seeing the world through 'race colored glasses.'
As fate would have it, as I was walking through the downtown library parking lot on my way to attend a lecture later that day, I happened upon an argument underway among several people at the other end. It seemed to have just started as I arrived and had something to do with sandwiches.
As I stood at the machine paying my ticket, the argument escalated as they moved closer. The people approaching me were walking quickly away from a group of folks who had apparently all just received a bag-lunch from someone with a large cooler full of food.
The two people arguing vociferously were a middle-aged white woman attached to long-haired dog and a young black man in his 20's who was carrying a backpack and eating one of the sandwiches being distributed.
As the woman walked briskly across the pavement, she slung insults over her shoulder hitting the young man square in the solar plexus. As the argument degenerated and the woman became more aggressive, she ordered her dog to attack him. Although backing away, he continued to defend himself against her insults when she began spitting out the 'n' word and threatening him with more verbal violence. Claiming proudly -- and loudly -- that she was a member of the Ku Klux Klan, she assured him that his kind 'were destined for nothing other than tree-tops'.
The young man was of course angry and called her 'ignorant' in response to the throng of racial ephitets and threats being hurled in his direction. By the time the woman and her white male companion were about to physically attack this man, I had caught the attention of a security guard down the street to intervene, but the argument quickly dissolved as both parties dispersed to opposite sides of the street.
As I walked next to the young man, I didn't know what to say. I said something innocuous like 'I'm glad you didn't get into it with that woman; she's crazy'. As if by identifying this woman as 'crazy' would somehow diminish the pain and humiliation of public ridicule. And if this woman is just crazy, then what does that mean about all of the other people this young man encounters who don't demonstrate their views so blatently. At any rate, I wanted him to know I had witnessed the insult and injury he just suffered.
But witness of what? That this woman who did appear insane was very articulate in espousing and expressing the deep hatred she feels towards black people? That without hesitation she inflicted her racial toxicity on anyone within spitting distance?
And that is what it made me want to do. To spit out the bitterness of racism once and for all. To vomit the insanity of this vile disease.
When I arrived inside the library, I found myself wondering what the rest of that young man's day would be like and if this was a daily occurrence, or did it happen once a week, once a month. And what were the long-term effects of enduring this kind of virulent attack.
And it hit me that this was only the most overt kind of racism. This wasn't 'under the radar' racism that most black people are accustomed to dealing with every day -- all day. It is the covert kind that can be so overwhelming. The seemingly invisible damage reflected in the disproportionate numbers of non-whites inhabiting prisons or who are without health or are victims of environmental racism. The list goes on.
And I pondered what societal vaccination could be powerful enough to inoculate further generations from contracting this chronic and deadly condition called racism. And who would create it?
When I got home that night, I thought of the irate woman who accused me of being obsessed with race.
And I thought of my response. Yes, I see the world through race colored glasses because if I didn't, I would be blind.
And when there is nothing left to say, I will stop writing about it.
Molly Secours is a writer/filmmaker/speaker and frequent co-host on "Behind the Headlines" on WFSK 88.1 FM. She can be reached at: mollmaud@comcast.net or www.mollysecours.com
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