Everyone’s a litte bit racist
Before I get an onslaught of hate mail suggesting that I’m going to burn in hell (which may be the case but if so it will be for a completely different set of reasons), the title to the blog references a song in the show Avenue Q which, if you’ve not seen it… well, I feel bad for you because it’s just about the funniest musical… maybe ever.
The song is sung as a duet between Kate Monster and Princeton and is a tongue-in-cheek look about the real and imagined differences between races making the point that perhaps we’d all be a bit better if we acknowledged and celebrated our differences as opposed to pretending that they don’t exist. We’ve gone so far toward the center of political correctness that we’ve lost our sense of humor.
The metro Washington DC area is about as close to living in El Salvador as I could get without, you know, moving to El Salvador. Driving back from Labcorp this morning (could be thyroid, might be knocked up- just kidding Moms), I was driving by this park and there huddled around a metal BBQ grill at 11:00 in the morning stood 6 flannel-shirt clad Latinos alternately warming themselves by the fire and you know, making a little something to snack on.
When white people BBQ, we gather around a neighbor’s Viking Grill with kabobs made from prime rib, roasted red pepper and summer squash. White people grill a maximum of 3 nights a week: Friday- Sunday. For a complete list of caucasian foibles visit Stuff White People Like
Observing these differences doesn’t make me a racist. Treating my flannel-shirt neighbors as less-than because of differences that I perceive through my own wacked out filter, that would make me racist.
Don’t you love it when white people say, “I have several friends who are black”? Like it’s a right of passage to somehow demonstrate how progressive we are. I don’t know a single white person who, at one point or another hasn’t wanted to tell someone about the friendship they’ve made with a black person. I don’t think there’s any malice behind it. It’s just a curious bit of human nature.
I remember when it became politically correct to use the term “African American” instead of “Black” out of respect for a herritage of enslavement in this country. No disrespect intended but I dislike the term “African American” about as much as I dislike “Caucasian”. If I’m white, isn’t it OK for you to be black?
If we can laugh when a white family names their kid, “Taylor”, “Regan” or something equally bland, why can’t we laugh when a black family names their kid, “Shaniqua” or “Jendahvi”?
If this blog has point, and it might not be anything more than a mid-day ramble, it’s this: we are all different and we are all the same. Some of our differences are related to the color of our skin or our religious and political belief, or where and how we were raised.
Everyone’s a little bit racist
It’s true.
But everyone is just about
As racist as you!
If we all could just admit
That we are racist a little bit,
And everyone stopped being
So PC
Maybe we could live in -
Harmony!
Just read your latest blog post – loved it!! Particularly the part where you said that white people like to tell others that they have a black friend. _______came to my Super Bowl party this year (which is completely comprised of white people), and she was treated like a celebrity. Seriously, my friends were all over her the entire night. Not even Britney Spears would have received as much attention. In fact, several of my friends exchanged contact information with her and a few even went so far as to make tentative plans to hang out with her. I wanted to stop the party and announce to everyone that _________was MY black friend – and that they all needed to go find their own! It was hilarious. Anyway, your post reminded me of that so I thought you’d think that story was funny.
i have a black friend (guilt as charged), named ‘rachel’ and she just belly-laughs when she sees, as she calls them, ‘silly african-american names’ like shaniqua. again, her words, not mine. she shakes her head and asks ‘what’s wrong with these people?’
The best for me is when a child tells you about race. They dont understand it but are so curious as to why people are white, tan, and brown. In a 5 year old’s mind, there is no “black”, just shades of brown and white. If it could only be that simple.
Brilliant!