A post on racism that really touched me, and how I need to get off my butt and help a friend in need
I just read the most interesting post that will stay with me for a long time. I had never read this blog before but linked to it based on seeing her name on various comments. NML's August 2nd blog is heartbreaking, maddening, frustrating, enlightening, and still full of hope for the future and how she has gotten beyond all the small-minded people and comments and terrible experiences. But still, to think that one person experienced all of the blatantly racist things that she has just breaks my heart. And makes me respect her so much for how she addresses it and how she loves who she is and realizes that she's special because of her heritage, even though I know hardly anything about her. I can't believe a mother would send her home from a sleepover and let all the other little girls stay, just because she was black! And that's in Ireland. I'd love to rant about all the other things she experienced. It's absolutely infuriating. I was so naive to think that racism against blacks was mostly just in the U.S.
I grew up in Grand Rapids, Michigan in one of the many suburbs (although it's all pretty much suburbs). I went to a tiny Lutheran school from kindergarden through eighth grade. The number of people in my class fluctuated slightly but always declined through the nine years, so that I graduated with six people in my class. Of course, two grades would be together in each classroom, so there were more people around than just six. There were a few black people in our school. The two I remember were a guy a grade below me and a girl a grade above me. I think what I thought about them at that time were that they had weird names. The guy, Temley (and I don't remember if I'm spelling that right) was really nice and kind of shy, and I liked him as a person. But I was also very shy when I knew him (he left the school in I believe 6th grade). I knew he was black. So I knew he was different in some way. But I liked him. The girl, Shanette, was outspoken and so she intimidated me a lot. And this is the terrible thing that I remember, and I don't like saying it, but she sometimes had a strong odor about her. When I was in 7th grade and she was in 8th grade, and at that time I had finally thrown off part of the ultra-shyness and realized that it was okay if I talked and once in awhile a teacher told me to be quiet, she told me that she and others had always thought I was stuck up. That was the biggest shock in my life to that point. I remember her pointing to certain examples. And pointing out that I had never talked to anyone and never talked in class, and had maybe one or two friends. It was only because I was painfully shy, and so afraid of being yelled at in class that I would not say one word. And I thought I was fat and ugly, so I made friends only with the other fat girl in the class. Yet now I look back and I wasn't fat at all, just not teensy skinny like some of the other girls. And that was when I was 9 or 10 years old.
Anyhow, I digress. I remember in high school when I'd go to the mall, whenever I would see a group of black people sitting around, I would make a wide circle around them. It wasn't because I thought they were dangerous. It was actually because they tended to talk loudly and seemed to be very outspoken and I always feared that they would pick on me and I wouldn't be able to respond. But still, I felt they were different, if only because they came from a different part of town and talked and acted differently.
When I moved to Chicago for law school almost 8 years ago, I loved being thrown into a city where we see and live around people of all colors and all ethnicities and all religions. At first it took me a little while to get used to, but now I don't bat an eye usually. And for this reason, I don't want to leave the city. I don't want to live in some stupid, gross suburb with my big house on the street looking like every other house, and everyone seeming the same, and everyone in my view being sort of close-minded and self-consumed and judgmental of others who aren't like them. Instead, I want to stay in the city, and I want to raise my future children in the city so that they will be used to people of all colors, and I will try to teach them to judge people based on each person and not based on a color of skin or a religion or where they come from, or who they are sexually attracted to. But that's going to be very hard, because stereotypes are so persistent in our culture, and now I see in the world over, and as much as I try to be open-minded and chastise people when they say racist comments, I know that I have ingrained stereotypes. So I have to be constantly, constantly aware of my thoughts so that I try to not let those things creep in. I want to be a good person and love all people, and not prejudge anyone based on stereotypes or their skin color, where they are from, or what area of town they come from and/or live in. But it's something that I do sometimes have to work at. And it's very sad, but some of my friends are not quite that way. Granted, they are mostly older, in their 50's, so a different generation. But that doesn't excuse it. And with regard to my grandparents, both 85, my grandma still every once in awhile calls black people "colored people" and my grandpa refers to people with mental problems as "idiots". I've had so many words with them with regards to derogative terms that they usually don't say that around me anymore.
Now here is another thing. Throughout this post, I have said "blacks" or "black people" instead of "African Americans". I don't know what is right! I kind of liked when a few years ago I heard Whoopi Goldberg say something to the tune of "I'm a black American, I'm not from Africa". And I seem to hear both terms. But I hope I haven't offended anyone by using "black" as opposed to "African American". I know it doesn't have the same connotation, but I'm called "white", and the term white encompasses a whole continent of heritage and more.
I also liked NML's thoughts at the end of her post with regard to terrorism and the fear that it breeds. Obviously she just experienced July 7th while living in London, so it's fresh in the minds of Londoners and also anyone who lives in the UK. And I'm sure any New Yorker would say that 9/11 is still fresh in their minds. I do see the ridiculousness of the random searches at airports - they always seem to pick out old grandmas and me. But at the same time, the random searches are at least searches and raise the possibility of a search for everyone. Today I read a headline on yahoo news - and I didn't read the story yet - about a couple of officials who were advocating getting rid of random searches and instead searching those that really need to be searched, i.e. Middle Easterners, Muslims, Arabs, etc. That would be such a disgrace. What if a group of young girls, all Protestants, with light skin and strawberry blond hair suddenly committed some attrocities, and people were targeting people who looked like me. Things like that have been on my mind recently. When I'm in our court building, or walking underground by the L, or anywhere where I see guards or policeman, I always sort of look down, look up and smile at them a little, and they always smile at me. And I consciously like that I know that they know I'm a good person and are not worried about me being bad. But then I think about the millions of wonderful and good Arabs and Muslims who walk around the same areas as me. And I'm sure they never get that smile. They are always under a cloud of semi-suspicion. I would hate that! And I hate that good people have to feel that way! And for the people advocating the searching of every Arab, Muslim, Middle Easterner - they should think of the legitimate ongoing shame of the U.S. for putting the Japanese in camps during World War II. I understand the fear. I understand that there are bad people who are plotting against us. I understand that many of them might be of Middle Eastern heritage. But the vast majority of these people are good and just want to live their lives, be good citizens, work, and be happy. And it's not right to punish millions for the bad acts of a few. And also, as we've seen from the London bombings, it's not always people fresh from the Middle East who are behind these things.
It's a hard time and a scary time in some ways. I think it could be worse, and honestly, even though I have serious problems with our current administration, I think that the FBI and CIA and Homeland Security and any other agencies that I'm forgetting have I'm sure stopped many possible attacks and caught many dangerous people - way more than they have let us know. Of course, I have a serious problem when no charges are leveled against them and they are just left to rot in Guantanamo. That is a whole other rant that so so so so so pisses me off. It's an embarrassment to our country, our constitution, our way of life, human rights, and what should be an innate knowledge of what is right and wrong. Enough said.
In conclusion to this portion of the post, I thank NML for her post. It has gotten me really thinking and so ashamed that people would act the way that they did and still do. And I vow to be constantly trying to assure that I never become that way and instead become ever more open-minded, accepting, and loving of all people. And I will do my small part to educate my children and teach them by my example. And I hope this happens all over the world. In our age of internet, TV, and information, I would hope that people become more united instead of more divided.
I'm now going to document my food etc intake, which is not so good:
Wednesday, August 3rd
Food:
2 cups coffee w/ milk
1/2 burger w/ cheese
a few handfuls of some cheddar little fish mixture
a package of Lipton Butter Noodles - according to the package, I had 580 calories
Alcohol:
1 bottle Pinot Grigio
Exercise:
None. I suck. I didn't go tonight cause every possible exercise outfit smells so bad from me exercising in it. And tomorrow night I now have to take James to the vet. I'll have to see if he's still having diarrhea. But also, I got home and was tired and then because I'm so smart, decided to start drinking wine before I even got my clothes ready to put in the laundry. So again, I've done no laundry. Nor cleaned. Sometimes I get really pissed off at myself.
It's 10:43 p.m. and I haven't heard a peep from Warsteiner. Right now I'm of the attitude "Fuck him". He fucking comes by on Monday night just to say goodbye and give me a hug, and can't give me so much as an email or little message when he's on vacation. And it's just with his sisters and their families. So he's spending time with nieces and nephews. But what the fuck!!! Everyone always can make two minutes. So I am starting to be really turned off. I really am starting to think that guys really do think completely differently than girls.
And I need to call Wiggles. He's another Match guy. I think it was in maybe October or November when we first went out, to brunch. I thought he was a little weird. He dressed kind of European/alternative. I'm all about everything European, but his whole profile was about how he loved to travel and blah blah blah. And he was cute, but had some weird little movements/jerks. However, after brunch, he suggested we walk for awhile, so we did, and then we went to the local wine store and he had some tastes of hard alcohol (I don't drink that stuff and the wine tasting was shut down) but then we went to a bar that has tons of Belgian beers, and after three or maybe four of them, we went back to my place and fucked for forever. I hardly remember any of it. But my top mattress was two feet off my bed when I finally seemed to come to.
Wiggles really liked me, and he's a sweet guy. But he wiggles alot. He tries to be outgoing and talk to everyone, but he jerks and wiggles when he does. And when we were seeing each other for a little while, before I broke it off, he touched me all the time (which I fully understand) but when he'd be holding me and kissing me he'd be so weird in that he'd, how can I describe it?, be rhythmically pulling me toward him, jerkily and always. This is so mean, but I almost wonder whether his mom was on drugs when she was pregnant with him.. He's just jerky in his movements and wiggly. And he'd always try to make out during the rythmic hugging, but I just found his tongue in my mouth disgusting. I'd always turn my head away but he'd keep going. He was so sweet though when I told him that I just wasn't feeling it. On the walk back from the bar (I hate telling people bad things so I got drunk to tell him) he kept saying the guy who finally got me was going to be so lucky.
Since me breaking it off, we've gone out a few times to keep in touch. He's very sweet and a good person and when I'm with him I really do care for him and want him to be happy. The last time we went out was maybe 3 weeks ago. He came here first to see my place and we sat on the balcony and had a couple of beers. And then we headed out to Jake's - the bar with the Belgian beer. I stopped off on the way to get my mystic tan (love those things, best invention for light-skinned people EVER) and then met him at the bar. We were talking and talking and talking and eventually somehow I talked about my recent bought with depression and my switch of medicine, and he got real quiet, and I asked him if he had ever been depressed. He said since about age 8. He said when he was very young he'd gone to a psychologist but without much luck. However, nothing since. It seemed so obvious to me that from how he was describing his moods and feelings that he has depression. And I know there are others in his family with mental illness. However, what scared me is that at some point I said "but no matter how bad it's ever gotten for me, I have never, ever considered suicide..." and he looked down at that point. So I pressed the issue, and he got teary-eyed and said with conviction that he didn't want to talk about it right now. I could feel the hurt and pain eminating from him. I told him he had to make an appointment to go see his doctor and talk about his depression. I told him I was going to check up on him. He asked if he could spend the night just to cuddle, and because I was drunk, I said yes. (It was right before I really started liking Warsteiner). So he came back and just slept in my bed and while we were awake before we fell asleep, he pulled me to him in his jerky, almost spasmodic (sp?) way.
He called me I think the next week and I haven't returned his call. I'm really so bad sometimes with returning calls. But I want to check in on him. I can't be his girlfriend and I'm not his soulmate. I'd like to be his friend but he likes me. But I want to help him, because he really has no one else who he can talk to. He told me he'd never told anyone else about this, and I completely believe him from his reaction to things. He needs some medication and some therapy as well with someone who he feels comfortable with. Tomorrow I'll call him. I should have called him much earlier. He's in a fragile state and opening up to me was a big thing, and I'm so irresponsible for not having returned his call right away. My only excuse, which is no excuse, is that when he left the message, he talked about some festival and I know he would love to be a couple with me. But I just need to suck it up, stop hiding and denying, call him, tell him the sort of truth, and be there for him as a friend, to make sure he takes care of himself. I feel responsible in just a human way, and I want to help him as I would want to help anyone. I just hope I can get him to go for help. He really scared me once I knew he'd considered suicide on multiple occasions. I have an obligation now that I welcome, because he opened up to me and can now get help that will affect him for the rest of his life.
I'm off to bed, my bottle of wine is gone, James is laying next to me cuddling, so I'll sleep with the vow that tomorrow I won't be going to the store to get any wine and instead will do laudry, clean, vaccuum, organize the DVD pictures, and call Wiggles and the friend that I hurt.
I grew up in Grand Rapids, Michigan in one of the many suburbs (although it's all pretty much suburbs). I went to a tiny Lutheran school from kindergarden through eighth grade. The number of people in my class fluctuated slightly but always declined through the nine years, so that I graduated with six people in my class. Of course, two grades would be together in each classroom, so there were more people around than just six. There were a few black people in our school. The two I remember were a guy a grade below me and a girl a grade above me. I think what I thought about them at that time were that they had weird names. The guy, Temley (and I don't remember if I'm spelling that right) was really nice and kind of shy, and I liked him as a person. But I was also very shy when I knew him (he left the school in I believe 6th grade). I knew he was black. So I knew he was different in some way. But I liked him. The girl, Shanette, was outspoken and so she intimidated me a lot. And this is the terrible thing that I remember, and I don't like saying it, but she sometimes had a strong odor about her. When I was in 7th grade and she was in 8th grade, and at that time I had finally thrown off part of the ultra-shyness and realized that it was okay if I talked and once in awhile a teacher told me to be quiet, she told me that she and others had always thought I was stuck up. That was the biggest shock in my life to that point. I remember her pointing to certain examples. And pointing out that I had never talked to anyone and never talked in class, and had maybe one or two friends. It was only because I was painfully shy, and so afraid of being yelled at in class that I would not say one word. And I thought I was fat and ugly, so I made friends only with the other fat girl in the class. Yet now I look back and I wasn't fat at all, just not teensy skinny like some of the other girls. And that was when I was 9 or 10 years old.
Anyhow, I digress. I remember in high school when I'd go to the mall, whenever I would see a group of black people sitting around, I would make a wide circle around them. It wasn't because I thought they were dangerous. It was actually because they tended to talk loudly and seemed to be very outspoken and I always feared that they would pick on me and I wouldn't be able to respond. But still, I felt they were different, if only because they came from a different part of town and talked and acted differently.
When I moved to Chicago for law school almost 8 years ago, I loved being thrown into a city where we see and live around people of all colors and all ethnicities and all religions. At first it took me a little while to get used to, but now I don't bat an eye usually. And for this reason, I don't want to leave the city. I don't want to live in some stupid, gross suburb with my big house on the street looking like every other house, and everyone seeming the same, and everyone in my view being sort of close-minded and self-consumed and judgmental of others who aren't like them. Instead, I want to stay in the city, and I want to raise my future children in the city so that they will be used to people of all colors, and I will try to teach them to judge people based on each person and not based on a color of skin or a religion or where they come from, or who they are sexually attracted to. But that's going to be very hard, because stereotypes are so persistent in our culture, and now I see in the world over, and as much as I try to be open-minded and chastise people when they say racist comments, I know that I have ingrained stereotypes. So I have to be constantly, constantly aware of my thoughts so that I try to not let those things creep in. I want to be a good person and love all people, and not prejudge anyone based on stereotypes or their skin color, where they are from, or what area of town they come from and/or live in. But it's something that I do sometimes have to work at. And it's very sad, but some of my friends are not quite that way. Granted, they are mostly older, in their 50's, so a different generation. But that doesn't excuse it. And with regard to my grandparents, both 85, my grandma still every once in awhile calls black people "colored people" and my grandpa refers to people with mental problems as "idiots". I've had so many words with them with regards to derogative terms that they usually don't say that around me anymore.
Now here is another thing. Throughout this post, I have said "blacks" or "black people" instead of "African Americans". I don't know what is right! I kind of liked when a few years ago I heard Whoopi Goldberg say something to the tune of "I'm a black American, I'm not from Africa". And I seem to hear both terms. But I hope I haven't offended anyone by using "black" as opposed to "African American". I know it doesn't have the same connotation, but I'm called "white", and the term white encompasses a whole continent of heritage and more.
I also liked NML's thoughts at the end of her post with regard to terrorism and the fear that it breeds. Obviously she just experienced July 7th while living in London, so it's fresh in the minds of Londoners and also anyone who lives in the UK. And I'm sure any New Yorker would say that 9/11 is still fresh in their minds. I do see the ridiculousness of the random searches at airports - they always seem to pick out old grandmas and me. But at the same time, the random searches are at least searches and raise the possibility of a search for everyone. Today I read a headline on yahoo news - and I didn't read the story yet - about a couple of officials who were advocating getting rid of random searches and instead searching those that really need to be searched, i.e. Middle Easterners, Muslims, Arabs, etc. That would be such a disgrace. What if a group of young girls, all Protestants, with light skin and strawberry blond hair suddenly committed some attrocities, and people were targeting people who looked like me. Things like that have been on my mind recently. When I'm in our court building, or walking underground by the L, or anywhere where I see guards or policeman, I always sort of look down, look up and smile at them a little, and they always smile at me. And I consciously like that I know that they know I'm a good person and are not worried about me being bad. But then I think about the millions of wonderful and good Arabs and Muslims who walk around the same areas as me. And I'm sure they never get that smile. They are always under a cloud of semi-suspicion. I would hate that! And I hate that good people have to feel that way! And for the people advocating the searching of every Arab, Muslim, Middle Easterner - they should think of the legitimate ongoing shame of the U.S. for putting the Japanese in camps during World War II. I understand the fear. I understand that there are bad people who are plotting against us. I understand that many of them might be of Middle Eastern heritage. But the vast majority of these people are good and just want to live their lives, be good citizens, work, and be happy. And it's not right to punish millions for the bad acts of a few. And also, as we've seen from the London bombings, it's not always people fresh from the Middle East who are behind these things.
It's a hard time and a scary time in some ways. I think it could be worse, and honestly, even though I have serious problems with our current administration, I think that the FBI and CIA and Homeland Security and any other agencies that I'm forgetting have I'm sure stopped many possible attacks and caught many dangerous people - way more than they have let us know. Of course, I have a serious problem when no charges are leveled against them and they are just left to rot in Guantanamo. That is a whole other rant that so so so so so pisses me off. It's an embarrassment to our country, our constitution, our way of life, human rights, and what should be an innate knowledge of what is right and wrong. Enough said.
In conclusion to this portion of the post, I thank NML for her post. It has gotten me really thinking and so ashamed that people would act the way that they did and still do. And I vow to be constantly trying to assure that I never become that way and instead become ever more open-minded, accepting, and loving of all people. And I will do my small part to educate my children and teach them by my example. And I hope this happens all over the world. In our age of internet, TV, and information, I would hope that people become more united instead of more divided.
I'm now going to document my food etc intake, which is not so good:
Wednesday, August 3rd
Food:
2 cups coffee w/ milk
1/2 burger w/ cheese
a few handfuls of some cheddar little fish mixture
a package of Lipton Butter Noodles - according to the package, I had 580 calories
Alcohol:
1 bottle Pinot Grigio
Exercise:
None. I suck. I didn't go tonight cause every possible exercise outfit smells so bad from me exercising in it. And tomorrow night I now have to take James to the vet. I'll have to see if he's still having diarrhea. But also, I got home and was tired and then because I'm so smart, decided to start drinking wine before I even got my clothes ready to put in the laundry. So again, I've done no laundry. Nor cleaned. Sometimes I get really pissed off at myself.
It's 10:43 p.m. and I haven't heard a peep from Warsteiner. Right now I'm of the attitude "Fuck him". He fucking comes by on Monday night just to say goodbye and give me a hug, and can't give me so much as an email or little message when he's on vacation. And it's just with his sisters and their families. So he's spending time with nieces and nephews. But what the fuck!!! Everyone always can make two minutes. So I am starting to be really turned off. I really am starting to think that guys really do think completely differently than girls.
And I need to call Wiggles. He's another Match guy. I think it was in maybe October or November when we first went out, to brunch. I thought he was a little weird. He dressed kind of European/alternative. I'm all about everything European, but his whole profile was about how he loved to travel and blah blah blah. And he was cute, but had some weird little movements/jerks. However, after brunch, he suggested we walk for awhile, so we did, and then we went to the local wine store and he had some tastes of hard alcohol (I don't drink that stuff and the wine tasting was shut down) but then we went to a bar that has tons of Belgian beers, and after three or maybe four of them, we went back to my place and fucked for forever. I hardly remember any of it. But my top mattress was two feet off my bed when I finally seemed to come to.
Wiggles really liked me, and he's a sweet guy. But he wiggles alot. He tries to be outgoing and talk to everyone, but he jerks and wiggles when he does. And when we were seeing each other for a little while, before I broke it off, he touched me all the time (which I fully understand) but when he'd be holding me and kissing me he'd be so weird in that he'd, how can I describe it?, be rhythmically pulling me toward him, jerkily and always. This is so mean, but I almost wonder whether his mom was on drugs when she was pregnant with him.. He's just jerky in his movements and wiggly. And he'd always try to make out during the rythmic hugging, but I just found his tongue in my mouth disgusting. I'd always turn my head away but he'd keep going. He was so sweet though when I told him that I just wasn't feeling it. On the walk back from the bar (I hate telling people bad things so I got drunk to tell him) he kept saying the guy who finally got me was going to be so lucky.
Since me breaking it off, we've gone out a few times to keep in touch. He's very sweet and a good person and when I'm with him I really do care for him and want him to be happy. The last time we went out was maybe 3 weeks ago. He came here first to see my place and we sat on the balcony and had a couple of beers. And then we headed out to Jake's - the bar with the Belgian beer. I stopped off on the way to get my mystic tan (love those things, best invention for light-skinned people EVER) and then met him at the bar. We were talking and talking and talking and eventually somehow I talked about my recent bought with depression and my switch of medicine, and he got real quiet, and I asked him if he had ever been depressed. He said since about age 8. He said when he was very young he'd gone to a psychologist but without much luck. However, nothing since. It seemed so obvious to me that from how he was describing his moods and feelings that he has depression. And I know there are others in his family with mental illness. However, what scared me is that at some point I said "but no matter how bad it's ever gotten for me, I have never, ever considered suicide..." and he looked down at that point. So I pressed the issue, and he got teary-eyed and said with conviction that he didn't want to talk about it right now. I could feel the hurt and pain eminating from him. I told him he had to make an appointment to go see his doctor and talk about his depression. I told him I was going to check up on him. He asked if he could spend the night just to cuddle, and because I was drunk, I said yes. (It was right before I really started liking Warsteiner). So he came back and just slept in my bed and while we were awake before we fell asleep, he pulled me to him in his jerky, almost spasmodic (sp?) way.
He called me I think the next week and I haven't returned his call. I'm really so bad sometimes with returning calls. But I want to check in on him. I can't be his girlfriend and I'm not his soulmate. I'd like to be his friend but he likes me. But I want to help him, because he really has no one else who he can talk to. He told me he'd never told anyone else about this, and I completely believe him from his reaction to things. He needs some medication and some therapy as well with someone who he feels comfortable with. Tomorrow I'll call him. I should have called him much earlier. He's in a fragile state and opening up to me was a big thing, and I'm so irresponsible for not having returned his call right away. My only excuse, which is no excuse, is that when he left the message, he talked about some festival and I know he would love to be a couple with me. But I just need to suck it up, stop hiding and denying, call him, tell him the sort of truth, and be there for him as a friend, to make sure he takes care of himself. I feel responsible in just a human way, and I want to help him as I would want to help anyone. I just hope I can get him to go for help. He really scared me once I knew he'd considered suicide on multiple occasions. I have an obligation now that I welcome, because he opened up to me and can now get help that will affect him for the rest of his life.
I'm off to bed, my bottle of wine is gone, James is laying next to me cuddling, so I'll sleep with the vow that tomorrow I won't be going to the store to get any wine and instead will do laudry, clean, vaccuum, organize the DVD pictures, and call Wiggles and the friend that I hurt.
