My Favorite Black Person in the world... (and some how it's STILL about me)

If we were all blind, would Baritones and Altos hate Tenors and Sopranos? Here's where I'm at. Race issues have been in the news around here quiet a bit, and I think it's really every couple of weeks that I wrestle with wether or not I am a racist. I wrestle with it because I have opinions that people tell me are racist, even though I don't see it that way. For example, if I saw someone who looked a lot like Snoop Dogg on the street, I'd try to avoid him. Now, why I think that's ok is because if I saw someone who looked like Colin Powell on the street, I'd be alright. It's simple really; one looks like a thug, one doesn't. Now, I know for a fact, Colin Powell has had enough training to kill me far more efficiently than any Snoop Dogg wannabe ever could. But, to me it's about presentation. Mr. Powell doesn't look like he wants to kill me. And don't get me started on the border. Really.

So, my stupid title for a post, 'My favorite black person in the world' is, my sister. My sister is my sister, and that is that. We share a bond I think is frighteningly like that of twins, though we are about 9 years apart. But for the sake of clarity, the technical term for her relationship to me would be "half-sister" (shudder). We share our adorable, white, euro-mutt mother (I kinda envy people who are just plain "Irish", or "Aboriginal" as opposed to all the hyphens in my description). Anyway, mom is white. My "bio-dad" was a resident alien Mexican, while Charyl's "bio-dad" was a black man. Mom is apparently NOT a racist (she's now been married to the man we call Dad, a full blooded German, forever. Is that a hat trick?), but Grandpa certainly WAS a racist, which is why I (and everyone) was told Charyl was ALSO of mexican decent until she was in High School. He already had a Latin grandson, so why not, right?

Well, this revelation caused me a lot of inner turmoil. Suddenly, I took every racist comment I heard personally. And there was a lot in our family. That someone could hate the absolute wonderful person that my sister is, simply because of her dark skin (and strangely, mine is often darker, much to her dismay) was not only staggeringly stupid, but personally offensive. She's one of the smartest, most gifted and loving people I know. And did I mention she is beautiful? I mean "fashion model" beautiful. "Keep a Big Brother up with a baseball bat at night" beautiful. Still, the inner doubt has me wondering if I use the love of my sister to make myself feel good about my other views. As if I couldn't be a racist because my sister, whom I love, is black.

I grew up with a lot of pre-judged ideas, that I unfortunately had validated by the people around me when I was young. I grew up so near the ghetto that if there was such a thing as a middle class ghetto, I lived in it. I also lived around, and went to school with scores of gang members, who fell into stereotypical categories. I grew to believe (and still believe) while stereotypes are be no means universal, many certainly have some sort of basis in anecdotal fact. I also believe that stereotypes become a self fulfilling prophesy of sorts, as those stereotyped actually conform to the stereotype.

So, I guess I am prejudiced, but is that necessary and sufficient to be called a racist? I think a more valid criticism of me would be to say I am classist. Not that that makes me proud, but I'm trying to be honest here. And my views on immigration and assimilation would make me more of nationalist than a racist. I believe in the melting pot, and I've been told the melting pot is racist.

Something else I grew up with was a blue collar work ethic, which made me willing to work for the things I wanted. I'll be damed if anyone was going to keep me from a college education and a solid middle class existence just because some accident of genetics made me brown! I am NOT a Mexican. I am an American, with all of the rights and privileges associated with that. I think Charyl felt the same way, though I'm not sure.

Now, I've written all this and I'm still riddled with self doubt. I want to believe that I take each person as they are. That skin color is not a factor in my view of people. But can anyone really say that? Aren't we all sort of predisposed to seek out the groups to which we feel we belong? This leaves me in a real bind, as I am an outsider in almost any ethnic situation.

I guess I've written all this because I find myself outraged at all the claims going around in the media these days. That a prank pulled on a black man, who himself is a vicious prankster, is somehow automatically racist. That people want to put a stop to illegal immigration, and because the vast majority of those people come from one place, it is by definition racist. That our very first freedom, in the document called The Bill of RIGHTS, should be suspended because someone in a moment of piss poor judgment, if not out and out stupidity, expresses his anger and frustration in the most derogatory and venomous fashion he could. I just find it all so infuriating. All these activist on TV and Radio...

Wait a minute... I just figured it all out!!! I'm NOT a racist at all. What I hate is bust body ACTIVISTS! Is there a word for that? An activist-ist? And Charyl, you're not my favorite black person in the world. You are simply one of my very favorite people in the world, defying all catagories. Anyway.. now I can sleep.

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And that's enough for now.

Brian Norwood

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