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Tail the black guy buying moscato.

Erik

Aurora, CO

I was in a mixed-race neighborhood, in line at a convenience store behind a black man checking out with a white clerk. He asked if there were any larger sizes of the wine he was buying. After the clerk said he wasn’t sure, he went back into the store to look himself.

As he walked away, the clerk pulled a coworker over and told him to “keep an eye on him”.

The overt expression of distrust shook me. Only as I worked through my feelings did I realize how uneasy and on edge I felt in the neighborhood–out of my comfort zone. I think our self-imposed segregation breeds fear and division.

It was the night before Barack Obama’s second presidential inauguration.

OSMONDS BETTER THAN JACKSON 5, WHY?

jackson 5
OsmondsJuleah Richards,
Chippewa Falls, WI.

BORN IN 1960; ST.PAUL MINN. LIVED IN WONDERFULLY MIXED NEIGHBORHOODS IN SOUTH MINNEAPOLIS UNTIL I WAS 10YRS OLD. MY MOM MARRIED A FARMER FROM RED RIVER VALLEY. WE MOVED TO SPOT 10 MILES FROM NORTH DAKOTA AND 90MI FROM CANADA. THERE WERE ONLY SCANDINAVIANS AND FRENCH FOLKS. NONE OF MY PEERS HAD EVER BEEN “EXPOSED” TO ANYONE WHO DID NOT LOOK LIKE THEMSELVES. I ADORED MOTOWN MUSIC (MY SIBS MUCH OLDER) AND THE JACKSON 5 WERE WHO I DANCED TO…WELL, MY NEW FRIENDS THOUGHT I WAS VERY EXOTIC WHEN I SHOWED THEM HOW TO “BLACK DANCE” – (FOURSQUARE ANYONE?). AT 10YRS OLD I WAS TAUGHT A BASIC TRUTH. PEOPLE FEAR WHAT THEY DO NOT UNDERSTAND.

Not Member of Your White Club

FB_IMG_1447451188745Britt Verstegen,
Socorro, NM.

I grew up as a blonde, blue-eyed kid in an interracial family within a racially diverse neighborhood of inner-city Detroit. My step-father is Black and my sisters are biracial. Due to my family composition, I became aware of white privilege at an early age. For example, I knew in third grade why store employees followed my Black male friends while summarily ignoring me: they assumed I was an honest, safe, and kind child because I was white and female, and they assumed my friends were dishonest, dangerous, and mean because they were Black and male. Within my 48 years of life, there have been numerous occasions where I have been in the company of whites and experienced what I term “the white club.” This is when a group of 2 or more white people form an ad-hoc “club” with complete strangers and begin talking smack about people of color. I have experienced this from New Mexico to Alaska, Michigan to Florida, even in my travels through Europe. Once brown people are gone, (some) white people feel free to say terrible things about people of color. One example: back in the early 2000’s, I was standing in line at a DMV in a small New Mexican town. Three women were ahead of me, two white and one Navajo. When the Navajo woman left, the two white women – complete strangers to me – turned to me and began speaking of “lazy Indians.” Suddenly, I was in the white club. Of course, I had an obligation to correct them, so I said, “I am not in your white club.” I have had to say those words many times in my life. It is a persistent problem. If there is a race war in this country and everyone of color is forced to live in, say, Delaware…well, I am moving to Delaware, ha-ha. I want to live in an integrated society where people of all races and ethnicities are afforded the same level of respect and opportunity. So no, I ain’t in your damn white club. No.

No, not the nanny… They’re MINE.

Valerie Grajeda Rountree,
San Jose, CA.

I grew up not speaking Spanish in a very Mexican neighborhood. My mother sent me to schools out of my area to prevent me getting involved with the local gang population. I grew up with other nationalities and met my future husband in high school. He is white. Our children were very fair when they were toddlers and at one of the parks we used to frequent, I was always getting asked if they were mine. Hispanic nannies were predominant in this area. When I assured the questioner they were mine and I had birthed them not adopted them, they always had the same response. They don’t look like you at all…

I thought you were a “hoodrat”

image39Cierra Garza,
Parlier, CA.

When I first moved to my new high school 15 minutes away from my hometown, I had no friends. I am now a senior in high school. I’ve met new people and made friends but, one thing that always comes up when someone is comfortable with me is the phrase, “I thought you were going to be a hoodrat when I first met you.” or “gangster” or “chola” because of where I live. Yes, I admit that where I live isn’t such a nice place. Just last week 2 kids my age where shot in a gang related crime. But, what I want people to understand is where I live does not define me. I am not a “hoodrat”, I am me.

You’re American? Were you born here?

Araceli,
Pasadena, CA.

No I wasn’t born here. Does it really matter? My family moved to this country when I was 2.5 yrs old. I grew up in the US. My family lived in a middle class suburban neighborhood. We all speak to each other in English. We’re just Americans who also pay 23% of each paycheck to taxes.

Race doesn’t define how you act

Ethan Flechner,
Milwaukee, WI

I’m a white man and I act very differently then most white people I see in stories and on the news. I act differently then most people I see. My race doesn’t automatically mean that I’m going to be formal or what white people are generically showed as. Throughout your life the way you act changes by how you feel, what you’ve gone through and how you dealt with it. I live in Milwaukee, a very segregated city. My neighborhood I full of people mostly of Hispanic heritage. It’s a very bad neighborhood, garbage, gunshots. It’s not the best. Even though I grew up there I don’t act how other people who grew there did. Many people in my neighborhood, even though they are mostly all the same race act so differently. I grew up dealing with so much, anxiety, stress, depression, and self harm. I was a horrible problem solver, and still am. Going through that and solving it gave me a very dark humor. I make jokes that would be deemed offensive to many. I’m usually kind as long as I’m not being weird saying stuff that most people would go “His parents must be disappointed.” I’ve grown up and realized that race doesn’t define the way you act but the way you’ve grown up and how you deal with everything does.

I am White and Hispanic getoverit

Matt JP J,
Tewksbury, MA.

My grandmother’s father was from Puerto Rico and she never knew him very well. She grew up as Irish with her Irish half siblings. My grandmother likes to view herself as Italian and Irish, rather than sharing her Hispanic heritage with her children. This is due to feelings of abandonment. My father, her son, grew up around Puerto Rican culture despite his mother’s disassociation from that part of herself. I too grew up around Puerto Rican culture in the same city as my half French Canadian-half Puerto Rican American father and American born Nova Scotian mother. Both actually grew up in almost the same neighborhood, went to the same high school, and learned Spanish growing up. Despite a very tan grandmother (and an even darker Pardos great grandfather from Mayaguez) my family is white. Other than my father saying once in a while that I’m a little Latino/Hispanic, I would have never thought about it. My father looks white and he also looks Mestizo. According to him, when he was growing up, the white kids would tease him for looking Mexican and the Hispanic kids in the neighborhood would tease home for looking Spanish or Irish, it depended on the story. Both sides of my family married heavily into different Hispanic families from all over and I looked very non-Mediterranean European. It wasn’t until college that I started to do my dna test and a family tree (I even did a paternity test because I was so confused why I looked so white and I just wanted to make sure, you know.) The results reassured me what I was told growing up was true. My father is my father, and AncestryDNA results linked up to another family with a common ancestry, reassuring me that my great grandfather was in fact my great grandfather. Since, I’ve considered being a little more open about that part of me, I find that people who didn’t know me are skeptic about whether or not I am Hispanic but way more open to the idea than some people who already know me who think I am confused or that I’m pranking them. I have an incredibly large family and I don’t feel comfortable being open to anyone on my mom’s side who might not know this fact in case it will create awkward confrontations in the future. I feel like my Hispanic identity might have to stay at home because of what people see, and that sucks because that’s a decent chunk of who I am, just not necessarily what others see. What’s more is that I have a fiancé who is Italian and everyone confuses her for being Hispanic. She swears up and down that she has no Hispanic nor Portuguese ancestry whatsoever. We have been talking about having children lately and it’s been making me wonder about what our child would look like. And the reality is that my child will probably have more credibility as being Hispanic than I ever will. At least he/she actually will have Hispanic ancestry because of me. I can’t say being white Hispanic sucks though. I would never give up my dad’s cooking.

Young Hispanic male, possible gang member

Jonathan Pineda,
San Francisco, CA.

I’ve been living in the Mission District all of my life, due to the gentrification going on and many natives being pushed out and tech workers moving in, police presence has increased dramatically. Also due to the gang injunction which has done nothing except give police officers an excuse to stop hispanic youth and be able to search them just for the reasonable suspicion of being a gang member. I myself have been a victim of this racial profiling three times, the most recent one was the worst. I was walking home after getting out of work and an undercover officer pulled up next to me and started asking me questions about what I was doing in the neighborhood, where was i going, and if I had any warrants. I was then proceeded to be searched to see if i had weapons and while they ran up my name to make sure I didn’t have warrants. In the end they let me go after 15 of me being stopped just for walking home.

I am Mexican, Black, and American

My 6 word memoir is about my family because I am Mexican, but my cousins are black and Mexican. Most of my family is Mexican because my mom’s side is all Mexican and so is my dad’s side. But on my mom’s side I have black cousins. Some experiences I’ve had with racism is when Donald Trump said mean things about Mexico and how they are bad people. I also had an experience with race and racism when someone said, “Hey are you from China?,” and they said because I squint a lot and I was really offended by that when I heard that. If you’re wondering what my ethnicity is, it is hispanic. In my neighborhood there are lots of people that are hispanic and I feel like that’s why they put a police station near my home because they feel like it is a very dangerous neighborhood. But in Balboa Park it’s a peaceful place and I almost never see a police car there or never hear a siren but I kind of almost hear mostly sirens because there is a hospital near bye. I used to think that there were a lot of police in my neighborhood because there was a lot of homeless by the train station but now I think I know why. I think the police feel our neighborhood is dangerous because lots of latinos and hispanics live there. I don’t think it’s very dangerous though because it is peaceful with lots of people minding their own business. In my culture everybody in my neighborhood would put dia de los muerto decorations because almost everybody there was hispanic and so do we put up decorations. My family is also christian and we believe in god but we don’t really go to church any more like we used to. We do celebrate christmas though because it brings us a lot of joy. We also celebrate this holiday called, ¨Los Reyes Magos,¨ which is a holiday similar to christmas. I am actually black from my mom’s side. My dad’s side of the family is one hundred percent Mexican. So that means that I am 99% Mexican because the majority of my family is Mexican and 1% black because I have only one set of cousins that are black.

RACE is NOT REAL

Race is not real. According to psychlologytoday.com “Race is real but, not in the way we think because race is only something that people think exists because people have different skin colors or look differently.” Also according to them there is only one race and it is called Homo sapiens. I think that race should be something that separates you not by how you look but by the way you act. Martin Luther King Jr. said people should be judged not by the color of their skin but the content of their character. This evidence proves that race is something that was socially made not scientifically discovered. Although race isn’t real, racism is because people sometimes do offend other people that have a different skin tone. We are the same because we are all one human species so that means we are all equal, we just look different.

Be mighty whitey not humble honkey

TODDS-PHONE-223Todd Johnston,
Baltimore, MD.

Tired of the violence and racism towards productive working white folks that gets swept under rug and buried by the media. Why am I racist for wanting the same respect as blacks, it’s ok for blacks to preach and say black power yet I’m scrutinized for just writing this. Recent web video shows blacks beating up a white mother and child on a playground,,,nothing on news? It’s one of a daily trend of black on white attacks that go unheard of because the liberal media CHOOSE not to show the public the reality of our society. Honestly, face it, walking thru the black neighborhoods in Baltimore at night is 100xs more dangerous than walking thru a white neighborhood.

I blend in, wherever I go.

Brenda Footer
Silver Spring, MD

I live in a very diverse neighborhood, where many El Salvadoran and Dominican families live. People are always trying to speak to me in Spanish, because I have olive skin and dark hair. I’m as white as can be, but it’s always been this way. Italians assume I’m Italian, Latinos assume I’m Latin. Arabs assume I’m Arab, Jews know I’m a Jew. I went to a predominantly black college, and there I was always told, “You don’t talk like a white girl, are Spanish?”

I hate hearing “The neighborhood changed.”

Glenny Brock ,
Birmingham, Al.
Submitted via Twitter: @glennybrock

 

Always code. In fact, most of the people I’ve heard say this were people who themselves CHANGED neighborhoods by leaving.     Glenny’s 6Word essay launched an interesting exchange via Twitter, follow along below…How do you weigh in on the topic?  Comment below. I hate hearing “The neighborhood changed.”  Glenny Brock  @glennybrock      
 “neighborhood changed” definitely code word for “no longer white”. Coworker told me this when her family moved to Montana.
Mana ‏ @fuun57

 

Will you still talk to me?

Susan Duncan,
Bristol, NH.

When I was in the fourth grade, my family moved from Concord, North Carolina, to Leaksville (now Eden), North Carolina. Our street, Patrick Street, was parallel to Henry Street and the dividing line between the “white” neighborhood and the black/African-American neighborhood. Our next door neighbor, Miss Mary, had a large yard and kids would gather to play ball. Even though this was the late 1950’s, our ball team was mixed with both black and white kids. We just played ball. One day, one of the young men asked me: “Susan, when we are able to someday go to school together, will you still talk to me?” This was absolutely a defining question of my young life — even though at the time, I had no idea whatsoever of the significance of the question. I was in high school in another town when North Carolina schools were finally integrated. My senior class of 333 students had 3 black students! I have so often thought of this young man: what did he go on to become in life? did he even survive the south of the 1960’s and the Vietnam war? It haunts me that I do not remember his name. But I so remember his question to me.

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