Sigh. One more day of Black History month, and here we have Mrs. Devos making an arse of herself. Again. I’ll paraphrase… “Historically Black Colleges and Universities were started from the fact that too many students did not have equal access to education – therefore, they were pioneers when it came to school choice.” Um…Huh? I thought they were created out of racial segregation and discrimination? Are these… alternative facts? Everyone should be scared by this lack of knowledge. Scared into educating themselves.
Why are you so interested in black history month, Erin, as the whitest of white people on the planet, you ask? Well…it’s precisely that. How can I ever know what it feels like to not have all the privileges given to a white person, if I never know what a black person has to go through? Makes sense, right? And at the very least, black history month says: “go pick up a book, and educate yourself. Start…anywhere.” I should send one to Mrs. Devos herself. I think I will. I am interested in people, in knowing the human spirit, in sharing its ties. Maybe that’s why I have chosen the writing path, to try and explore humanity as best I can.
This black history month I took a good look around my own community. I have been telling my friends back home for years that I have somehow landed in the wrong place, given its sore lack of diversity. For me, a place isn’t really alive unless it has lots of different voices representing it. Like Toronto. They have reason to feel superior, Vancouver, they do. (Our air is much nicer though)
I live in a community called Edgemont, and I had to laugh one day as I took a good look at the tin I’ve been hauling around from kitchen to kitchen (the one that holds my utensils) which had more to say than just its brand.
I live in Crackerville. I know about three black people here, that’s it. And one of them I don’t really know, I just practically made out with him at a party because he was so damn interesting. I didn’t get very far (my husband was right there) and also because he was gay, so my chances were pretty much nil. He was very charming, and to his credit he braved an En Blanc party…you know, where everyone is dressed in white? It was a food-stain challenge, for sure. The funniest part was he went out to his car to get something, and a nosy neighbour was out surveying the loud party scene. After seeing him, he called the cops.
“Guys, that guy just called the cops. I think he saw a black dude come out of the house and he was like…shit! I’m going to call the cops now!” said our friend.
We laughed and then said, yes, that probably is what happened. No sugar coating the blatant racism that abounds, is there. Wait, is that funny? No of course not. But, maybe. Because if we can’t laugh in the face of what sucks, we might just wither and die. (Keep at it SNL, keep at it).
I left the party feeling like, why don’t I have any friends here like him? Then I remembered. I am not an attractive friend-catch to the black gay man. I could introduce him to…I dunno…some moms? I know he likes his friend’s kids, but…I don’t feel I have much to offer him. Our taste in music and books and movies might be similar, but I will probably never know, which is too bad.
The book I just finished, Phoebe Robinson’s No You Can’t Touch My Hair and Other Things I Still Have to Explain is a good place to start if you are feeling the need for a few truths about race and feminism. She is hilarious; a stand up comedian. If she lived here, I’d have to ask her to hang out. But sadly, then I would fall into the category of the “woke” white person who has the black friend. She describes what its like to be the white person’s one black friend… and it kind of sucks for her. So what am I to do about this? Post a sign out front?
LOOKING FOR PEOPLE OF COLOR TO HANG OUT WITH SO I DON’T HAVE TO HEAR THE SAME SHIT ALL THE TIME.
This would be a bit pretentious, no? But how does one break any barriers, if you can’t find someone to hang out with? And really, don’t you want to find people to hang out with because you like nice people, regardless of their colour? How do I win this one?! I heard a woman walking down my street today speaking Spanish, and it gave me a lift of hope. But a few months ago, I was helping an Asian lady with directions, and a construction worker who was passing said,
“Oh, looking to sell her a house, are you?” I just gave him a blank stare.
“No, I’m helping her find where the suspension bridge is.” He looked confused and walked off. In his mind, the white realtor was showing the Asian buyer a home. So many stereotypes to battle. But what a dumb-ass!
If I was a realtor I would have had much nicer clothes on.