I like to interact with people, and I find I learn more about them, and about myself, by interacting with people I may not agree with. Either one of us persuades the other, or we learn more about ourselves, or we find new insights into our positions.
This apparently isn't common.
I've occasionally interacted on Facebook with one Ashley Protagonist Holmes, as she styles herself. She's big on gender issues, race and social issues. I probably agree with her about 40% overall, which is better than average.
I was looking at some links on her page, and the tone there was strident. I do that myself. No harm, no foul. However, if one is fighting stereotypes, one should avoid using them oneself. I made a polite comment that a message aimed at people in general agreement, with the intent of bringing them closer, should be worded amiably, not accusatorily. She seemed to miss the thrust, replied with something else, and I posted my infamous summary of worldwide historical repression, because a lot of Americans (apparently including her) miss that there's a lot more to it than black/white and the former Confederate slavery.
Her response was "Oh, wow, a middle class white male has an opinion on race. I don't think I'll waste time reading that." And it ended with, "Why don't you actually try talking to some black people?"
My first thought, was "Wait, this teenager is white, middle classed, middle American. This is not just the pot calling the kettle black, given my background, it's the pot calling the fine china black."
Then I thought, "That can't be what I just read. Did I just walk into The Simpsons or Monty Python?"
Then it was, "Wait, this person is supposed to be passingly aware of my background, WTF led to this outburst? Did her brain just shut down and she revert to tribal shouting?"
I bowed out of the conversation, because obviously, no rational discourse was going to be possible. We'd gone from generalizations to epithets, and by "we" I mean "she."
After that, I decided I needed to finish edits on my story collection coming out in August, and then come back to it.
So, let's go back to, "Why don't you actually try talking to some black people?"
~~~
CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.
I was in high school in the early 80s, peak of the break dancing craze, and I was a pretty damned good dancer. That means I hung out with a lot of black guys—at clubs, at school, at home. They came to my place to practice, I went to theirs. Sometimes our parents invited us or them to stay for dinner. I remember one who had a vivid sense of humor, including self-deprecating jokes when he found out we had watermelon. And yes, occasionally, one of them was a punk, but there were a lot more white punks who wanted to emulate what they thought black people were like.
Most of them lived in a slightly poorer area near the school, with numerous material goods--cars, projection TVs, which I'm led to believe was because their traditional areas were cheaper, so status was shown materially. (And for the record, we spent a couple of years receiving food stamps and other assistance after my parents divorced.)
My mother sold real estate, and occasionally (and let me stress occasionally) someone would ask about racial makeup of a neighborhood, or ask her to limit showings to whites only, and she would tell them it was illegal for her to discuss such things, or to attempt to limit purchases. Interestingly, it was generally poorer whites who were concerned about this, not middle or upper class, and it happened only a handful of times over several years.
Of course, that small element of racism does affect things, as does the natural tendency of people to form into tribes of like-minded individuals.
I had black teachers in school, and they were generally the funnest, most informative and down to earth.
The observant respondent would remember that I served in the US military. They may also be aware that the military is no longer segregated. Guess what? I was trained, and trained with, people of every race and color, some of whom barely spoke English, being either recent immigrants like myself, or from the Philippines, where we have a treaty agreement allowing them to join our military directly.
And, when I got to my permanent duty station, my roommate was…BLACK! Kersey was an odd duck from Cleveland, and we didn't talk much, until the time he threatened to kill me with his bare hands and an iron pipe, and shortly got some mental health treatment and processed out. It seems other people had had issues too.
My next roommate was a white kid from Oregon, an alcoholic, didn't last long, and moved into an abandoned mobile home with no power because he couldn't keep even a minimum wage job.
So, the last three years of my service I roomed with Wendell, who'd trained in an overlapping timeframe with me in Texas, so we already knew each other slightly. Wendell was not your typical black, I guess, since he was an immigrant from Antigua, thereby being British.
Let me elucidate for the civilians: we spent three years serving in the same unit, and sharing a 15' square barracks room. I knew him pretty damned well. We drank together, cruised bars together, did road trips to conventions together, and did a bunch of field exercises together.
Now, I had to sit down and think about all this, because my roommate was not "That black guy, Wendell." My roommate was "Wendell, the sergeant from the Power Section I spent three years of my life with." I've said it before, I will say it again—race is only important if you insist on making it important. If anyone asked, "Who do you room with?" I replied, "Wendell, Power Shop." And no one ever said, "Oh, right, the black guy." Largely because we had a LOT of "black guys" including the First Sergeant, our Section Superintendent and one of the engineers. So, yes, I took orders from black people, Hispanics, Asians, women, and never kept a tally because it never fucking mattered to me. Were they competent? By and large. Did they have the authority to define my tasks? Yes.
Were there racists in the unit? Yes, a few.
Now, for reasons not relevant here, engineering tends to congregate immigrants. My shop had me, a Mexican, and a Filipino and five native born Americans (one of them black). In the unit of 120, there were a couple of other Mexicans (And I mean men with Mexican passports, working on their citizenship, as I was), several Filipinos, another Brit, a German. We hung out in groups of our own nationality, and groups of immigrants vs native borns, and Engineers vs other units, and cadre vs transients, and AF vs other branches, and military vs civilian, because that's what people do. I rarely saw color itself be a defining matter, except among a handful (both white and black).
I do recall one asshole in my shop liked to refer to us as the "Fuzzy little foreigners." Though he generally didn't deliver it in a derogatory fashion, and we wore the sobriquet proudly. And note: I was included in that definition, despite being "White."
It wasn't the only bigotry I encountered from him, and that first roommate, Kersey, repeatedly mocked my birth nation to my face. Words were had over that. Occasionally, other people made comments about "Damned foreigners taking our jobs" and expressed that we shouldn't be allowed to own property or businesses.
Now, at least I was able to honestly identify the assholes, since I don't "look" like an immigrant, though I did still have a bit of an accent. They'd usually trot it out right in front of me, against regulations and common sense. But, bigotry works in all directions, and if you assume because I look like a certain imagined stereotype, I must think and act like said stereotype, congratulations, you just did it yourself.
So, moving on, I was Reserve and Guard for 20 years after that, and again, served with many people of many races and cultures. In fact, my last deployment was a 4-way split between Utah Air Guard (mostly Mormons), New Jersey Air Guard (mixed bag), Guam Air Guard (Mostly Chamorro people, and Catholic) and Puerto Rico Air Guard (very Hispanic and very Catholic) in a desert full of Arabs, Bangladeshis, Pakistanis, Filipinos (all Muslim), Indians (from India, and mostly Hindu, with some Muslims), Georgians (Muslims and Christians), Japanese, Koreans, Aussies and Brits. And being the military—you don't get a choice. You go fix, move or fight with whomever you're told to, and you have to manage to get along. And I enjoyed the hell out of it. We took turns doing Saturday night cultural dinners.
But that was Reserve, meaning I had a real job and a real home otherwise. And in college, I was a stripper. That meant I hung out with other strippers, mostly female, including a Thai and a very astute, striking black woman working her way through law school.
Oh, yes—it was a mostly Asian neighborhood we lived in.
Now, as far as Indianapolis, for anyone familiar with it, go take a look at East 52nd Street. I'll wait. What color are most of the people in that area? Oh, right—THEY'RE BLACK! Didn't matter to me. Most of them were good neighbors, though it was amusing watching the "photographer" next door, who never had models or materials or any camera gear, get busted by 17 cop cars and a SWAT van. That is, until he went to jail for dealing drugs and his ex and her friends burgled my house. But yup, several years in a black neighborhood as one of the few white people, and it didn't bother me at all. My daughter at age 3 insisted on stopping at several local revivals, because she's always loved to dance, and a bunch of people dancing and singing was definitely her thing, even if we're not Christian. (And before that we lived in the Irvington neighborhood, which might have a few blacks, too. I honestly never bothered to keep a tally, as hard as that is for some people to believe.)
A former girlfriend and I had a several month long affair with a full blooded Sauk woman who was a very strong LGBT and feminist activist. We didn't agree on everything, but I certainly learned a lot.
Quite a few of these people—such as the last lady—would have a strong level of agreement with many of your positions. Some would agree in part (and I do myself). Some would not agree at all. In the subjective world of human interaction, there are solution sets of right and wrong, that intersect in various ways. If you're stuck looking for one point solution, you clearly didn't manage calculus, and might need to go back and look at basic algebra again.
But let's move back to my childhood for a bit—I grew up quite poor near Liverpool, originally in a small flat with no central heat and no TV. My father is Scottish, my mother is English, and if you bother to read a little history, you might find that the two cultures had a few issues over the last few centuries.
My maternal grandfather was an RAF officer, and my mother spent several years as a child in Rhodesia, when it was Rhodesia, with all the household and base staff being local Africans. If I recall correctly, India, Cyprus and Kenya were in there, too.
Now, Britain, or rather, England, has its own history, but most of its colonial repressions were overseas, and for different motivations. And that's key. When I meet someone of a different color, my first thought isn't, and can't be, "OMG! This person's ancestors were slaves and my family profited from that!" Nope. The Brits pretty much didn’t keep slaves, my working class family certainly didn't, though several likely served on a few slave-busting ships.
No, when I meet someone of exotic looks for the area I'm in, my default thought is, "Oh, this person must be of or descended from one of our colonies." And even if some of the colonials were lower class, lower class is INFINITELY above "slave." There is simply no way possible for me to look at a black person and feel what a native born American of any color feels. Add to that, I moved here in 1978, so nothing that happened before that can possibly involve me.
If you look at my FB wall, you'll find blacks, Hispanics, whites, Asians (actually in Asia, as well as Asian Americans), transsexuals, gays, bisexuals, white people married to blacks, Hispanics and Asians, and people with backgrounds that include multiple races, cultures and ethnicities.
My friends include agents, authors, editors and technical people of (a variety of) color. We often disagree, and I've noticed that color is an issue for a lot of Americans. It's inescapable. Given the segregation issues shortly before I was born, the war a century before that, and the slavery before that, I accept it's a valid concern. But here's the important part: I don't share that concern, and assuming I do, can or must is trying to stereotype me based on my skin color.
So, you tell me, does that count as "actually talking to black people"? I'm adding up somewhere around a couple of decades or more of my experience, though as I said, I don't really keep a tally for score. I talk to PEOPLE.
See, the problem with a lot of self-claimed "liberals" is they're not. They're only tolerant if you agree with them. This seems to include you. You like it when I agree on certain gender issues. You go childishly apeshit when I just might have an informed opinion that differs slightly from yours, based on my own subjective experiences, broader world view, longer life and different background.
But even if I am "Wrong" on an entirely subjective subject, then any persuasion aimed at me must be diplomatic and with cited sources, otherwise it's simply an opinion, and available evidence suggests my opinion is more informed than yours…which does not mean it is necessarily objectively correct.
You don' t want actual debate, because it might shake you out of your comfortable worldview. What you want is tribal association.
If you look at me and assume based on my skin color I think like some stereotype of a middle class American white guy—you're a racist. If you assume that all black people agree with the position you've assigned them in your worldview—you're a racist. If you insist that people can't tell the same jokes about this President that they told about previous presidents because he's partly black and that somehow makes things different—you're a racist (especially as you insist simultaneously they can't treat him differently).
Much like the most virulent anti-gays are often hiding a secret part of their orientation that scares them, the most vocal users of the race epithet frequently demonstrate the most stereotyping and racism.
After all, let's look at your screen name again: "Ashley Protagonist Holmes." Ah, yes, the "PROTAGONIST!" The white, middle class, middle American woman flying in to right wrongs and correct perceptions, and tell people how they must think and feel, on behalf of those poor minorities who aren't capable of doing so themselves. And if you have a different perception than she? Well, then maybe you need to talk to people on her approved list, to learn the right things. No right-thinking person could disagree.
You're not a protagonist. You're not even an antagonist. You're an annoying little nit. And until you can accept and believe there are people with different worldviews, who may cross paths with you, share the path for some of the journey before taking another route, or walk alongside without joining you, you will continue to be only a minor irritant, accomplishing nothing.
In short, you need to learn how to be liberal and tolerant.
You might start by actually looking up the Wikipedia article on the word "privilege" and consider the many definitions and meanings it can have.
And then maybe go talk to some black people…who don't entirely agree with you.
I like to interact with people, and I find I learn more about them, and about myself, by interacting with people I may not agree with. Either one of us persuades the other, or we learn more about ourselves, or we find new insights into our positions.
This apparently isn't common.
I've occasionally interacted on Facebook with one [name redacted by request], as she styles herself. She's big on gender issues, race and social issues. I probably agree with her stances about 40% overall, which is better than average.
I was looking at some links on her page, and the tone there was strident. I do that myself. No harm, no foul. However, if one is fighting stereotypes, one should avoid using them oneself. I made a polite comment that a message aimed at people in general agreement, with the intent of bringing them closer, should be worded amiably, not accusatorily. She seemed to miss the thrust, replied with something else, and I posted my infamous summary of worldwide historical repression, because a lot of Americans (apparently including her) miss that there's a lot more to it than black/white and the former Confederate slavery.
Her response was "Oh, wow, a middle class white male has an opinion on race. I don't think I'll waste time reading that." And it ended with, "Why don't you actually try talking to some black people?"
My first thought, was "Wait, this teenager is white, middle classed, middle American. This is not just the pot calling the kettle black, given my background, it's the pot calling the fine china black."
Then I thought, "That can't be what I just read. Did I just walk into The Simpsons or Monty Python?"
Then it was, "Wait, this person is supposed to be passingly aware of my background, WTF led to this outburst? Did her brain just shut down and she revert to tribal shouting?"
I bowed out of the conversation, because obviously, no rational discourse was going to be possible. We'd gone from generalizations to epithets, and by "we" I mean "she."
After that, I decided I needed to finish edits on my story collection coming out in August, and then come back to it.
So, let's go back to, "Why don't you actually try talking to some black people?"
~~~
CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.
I was in high school in the early 80s, peak of the break dancing craze, and I was a pretty damned good dancer. That means I hung out with a lot of black guys—at clubs, at school, at home. They came to my place to practice, I went to theirs. Sometimes our parents invited us or them to stay for dinner. I remember one who had a vivid sense of humor, including self-deprecating jokes when he found out we had watermelon. And yes, occasionally, one of them was a punk, but there were a lot more white punks who wanted to emulate what they thought black people were like.
Most of them lived in a slightly poorer area near the school, with numerous material goods--cars, projection TVs, which I'm led to believe was because their traditional areas were cheaper, so status was shown materially. (And for the record, we spent a couple of years receiving food stamps and other assistance after my parents divorced.)
My mother sold real estate, and occasionally (and let me stress occasionally) someone would ask about racial makeup of a neighborhood, or ask her to limit showings to whites only, and she would tell them it was illegal for her to discuss such things, or to attempt to limit purchases. Interestingly, it was generally poorer whites who were concerned about this, not middle or upper class, and it happened only a handful of times over several years.
Of course, that small element of racism does affect things, as does the natural tendency of people to form into tribes of like-minded individuals.
I had black teachers in school, and they were generally the funnest, most informative and down to earth.
The observant respondent would remember that I served in the US military. They may also be aware that the military is no longer segregated. Guess what? I was trained, and train
