*So we had to write a microtheme for my English class in which we had to talk about an event in our life that changed our perception on race, and since I think I did a pretty good job I am posting this as my blog today, part out of laziness and part out of me just really wanting to share this. Also this contains racial slurs, I am only relating a story I do not mean to offend anyone in anyway. Also the amount of typos in here are fidicolous, I fixed the copy I'm turning in for class for clas but not this one, I do apologize.*
I grew up in Bayou La Batre, Alabama, the town made famous by the film Forest Gump. It's this tiny little fishing village right off the coast of the Gulf of Mexico, permeated with and endless smell of fresh seafood and water around every corner. Despite the place presented in the film, one populated primary by African-Americans, I grew up in a different Bayou, one several decades after the Vietnam War that brought a flood of new Asian immigration to our little fishing village.
When I younger, in a way, I grew up with color blind eyes. It wasn't really so much as choice more as ignorance; an ignorance that I think was good. I had friends who were Caucasian, African American, Asian, and later on, Hispanic. And too me it wasn't really a big deal, I didn't see the significance of the difference between our skin colors, to me we were all just people. There were people who were my friends, some who had families that were full of loud boisterous people, or homes that held statues of Buddha. It was common people around me, and as I'm sure you know, specifically the whites, threw around racial slurs like, "chink" and "nigger" and look at it like it was no big deal. As I stated before, I didn't see this as wrong when I was younger, I didn't know the significance to people being called different names because of their skin color. I grew older, though, and these things held more meaning, and I saw how they were wrong. But I never really understood how wrong they were until one event in seventh grade.
One of my closest friends was this girl names Lisa, a Vietnamese who had immigrated with her family when she was six years old. She lived in the same apartment complex as me and I loved going over to her house where her Mom would talk loudly in words I couldn't understand and there were always something tantalizing cooking. One day after class our teacher, a white woman, pulled Lisa aside and talked with her about her recent behavior in class. I didn't catch a lot of the conversation but one phrase I did hear was that the "she wasn't prepared to take this behavior because people of 'your kind' think you're privileged." Walking home that day, Lisa was upset, and when I tried to help her she lashed out at me, saying "all white people are the same because we think we're better." I told her that was not true and that if she generalized us then it wasn't any different from the teacher who was generalizing her. And then she said something that I don't think I'll ever forget; "But you guys can do that because you're white, you can call us chinks and it hurts. And the only thing we have to say back is that you're crackers, but who is going to be hurt by that--no one. Because being white isn't wrong, it's right."
Even years later I think about that event and how true her words are, I think what a lot of people forget is that people of all races are demeaned in some way everyday. It's hard because in being privileged with a certain lighter skin color makes people forget just how hard is to be on the other side. On that day, I think a lot of my perceptions on race were shaped because even though I knew racial slurs were wrong I never realized how much of an impact they truly made. Metaphorically I can say the last of my blinds were open and that I could finally see. Race is an issue that should be talked about, but at the same time it should be understand that no one race can be generalized or berated for the skin color they have. If people could see that, how is what race someone is both significant and insignificant, then maybe things, slowly but surely, would get better.
Fin.
-Keshia
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