The Race Card Project
By Michele Norris
Debbie Spragg Brisentine
Plain City, OH
I was born in 1954, lived in Mt. Pleasant Ohio, pop. approx. 500. Attended school from 1959-1972. Had both white and black friends but, to me, they were all just friends – no difference! I never knew anything about racial issues until maybe 1969, 1970. It was an idyllic childhood…
John Stephens,
New Market, VA.
Many years ago, when I was a young man, I went to see the movie The Defiant Ones with Tony Curtis and Sidney Poitier. The film was about two convicts who were both strident racists. They escaped from prison but they could not escape each other because they were shackled to one another. Over the course of the ensuing drama, they not only put aside their differences for their mutual benefit, but in the process they became friends. Driving home from the movie, I thought to myself how great it would be to have a black friend like that and to be free of the color barrier. Wait a minute! What about Bill Harkey? I wondered. He and I were co-workers and best of friends. We spent a lot of time off work traveling and dining together. I tried hard to picture him in my mind, until I finally realized that yes he was indeed a very dark African American. The reason for the momentary confusion was that I had never before thought of Bill as a Black man. I had only known him as a friend. Race is just a matter of mind.
Sara Proffett,
Healy, AK.
I am Russian, Scottish and Spanish. I’ve always been kind of tan and I have light brown hair. I’m short but not stout. I’ve always been made fun of for being a tiny little girl. I am a mix of different races so I was never really made fun of for being Spanish or Russian or Scottish. I hate it when people make fun of other people because of their background. Your background doesn’t mean anything!
Larry Bowditch,
Carrollton, TX
Time after time in meetings and discussions with white people my input on a topic goes without acknowledgment until another person, usually white, brings up the identical idea, which then is acknowledged as a great idea. I’m sitting there thinking, “Didn’t I just say that?” I used to rationalize it away with the thought, “Maybe they just didn’t hear me “, now I’m feeling “they just didn’t want to hear me”, especially after someone else in the meeting says “that’s what Larry said”.
My thoughts matter, don’t ignore me!
P. Contreras,
Benicia, CA.
How you choose to dress gives an impression about you. Whether that impression is accurate or not no one will know unless they get to know you. But, they won’t get to know you if your image repels them.
Example. Teenage Boy (black, Hispanic, Asian, white) in your neighborhood in jeans (that fit), t-shirt, and athletic shoes compared to a teenage boy in your neighborhood in saggy jeans (prison style), hoody obscuring most of his face, and athletic shoes.
It’s how you wear the clothes.
John H
McKinney, TX
King’s speech referred to the time when a man (actually he referred to his children) would be judged not by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. I think there are many, many who,lack character and use the color of their skin as an excuse. There are many who are principled and trying hard…. And when they fall short they keep trying and don’t use race as an excuse. The opportunity is there. No one thinks twice when they see a black cop, manager, lawyer, Doctor, politician, etc. etc. but you don’t usually see people, white or black, with violent attitudes, drug problems, inarticulate and dressed like a slob in these roles. It is not skin color it is culture and values. The articulate who,are willing to work, no matter their color… Have opportunity. The eubonics speaking, saggy pants wearing drug using gang bangers are despised. And it is not because they are black… Though they will try to tell you that’s why
Tina,
MI.
These six terms are my experience as it relates to every work environment I’ve encountered. I’ve been successful whereever I’ve worked and am now busy doing the “enterepreneur thing” (successfully). My employment experiences have all been the same. Single black female, alone in a sea of white as if no other qualified blacks (or any other minority) exist. It’s lonely. It actually sucks. And I’ve realized that, sadly, the lack of diversity has nothing to do with qualifications, but extreme nepotism. Sure, authors write about this phenom in the workplace. But, to actually witness whites hire people that only look like them/act like them, simply because its comfortable is mind blowing. It allows them this safety net so that they don’t have to try to get to know others. And sadly, most whites don’t even know they are succombing to racism. The need to mix with only white is so common and feels so natural, they they never question it. Meanwhile, I’m drowning in a sea of white and while so many people of color would love to dip their toes in this water, the sign above the pool says No Coloreds Allowed. Oh, except for me. Lucky me.
Kerri,
Riverside, CA.
I’m a Hispanic/English woman that was raised very, very Italian. It wasn’t until a few years ago I learned I was Hispanic and not even slightly Italian.
CBU HIS31
Patrick,
Philadelphia, PA.
This was thought provoking.
Leo Azucena,
Gaithersburg, MD.
Submitted via Twitter: @IslandvibeJason
#theracecardproject
Nicole
North Haven, CT
28 years later I still love him and realize he was always the one I had been searching for all this time.
Christine Mitchell,
Reading, PA.
I’m a black woman married to a white man but still, imagine my surprise in the delivery room when my baby came out white. Not “white” like black babies are often very light skinned until their color comes in, but white.
They put our bracelets on so our babies wouldn’t get mixed up but in the inner city ward of the Philadelphia hospital, we were all black mothers and no one confused their child with mine when they wheeled them in for feeding and baths.
As I looked at this child with blue eyes and blond hair I realized that I had to have some recessive white genes in me somewhere for her to be this fair. And, as my fingers traced her chubby legs, inspected every inch of her body as new mothers do, and watched her greedily latch on to my dark brown nipple, I also realized that it didn’t matter. She was a beautiful baby. She was our baby and her color just didn’t matter.
I’d say race matters as a society that has a very recent history of systematically oppressing people of color, and laws need to be passed and enforced to correct that injustice. But race doesn’t matter as far as who you love.
Now she’s a grown woman with her own children and if it’s possible, I love her more now than I did then.
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