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This week is International Blog Against Racism Week.
Here is another reflection. Another instance where in the moment, I deflected my own racism onto the victim.
Perhaps there are other interpretations of the event. I'm sure there are things I'm failing to consider. But that's all part of reflecting on it, to see what else I can learn.
* I am not positive that particular slur was the one used, it might have been honky, or whitey, or something similar, but it was definitely a slur word.
** I'm not positive that fool was his last word, it might have been more invective, but it was 15 years ago. The intent of the phrase remains.
*** Technically, two white people, and a part-white part-Native American. But if I didn't tell you my other friend wasn't 100% white, you probably wouldn't know that.
Here is another reflection. Another instance where in the moment, I deflected my own racism onto the victim.
In 1992, two friends and I went to the movies. The movie theater we chose to go to was the local one in downtown Teaneck. We used to refer to this as the "two dollar" theater, because that's what it cost. So, it was inexpensive--movies ran around $8 at the time at the big multiplex on Rt 4. The disadvantage was, the movies were older movies. You didn't get to see a movie here until a good month or so after it was out. Sort of a second chance theater, where you would see a movie if either you missed it during the opening splash, or maybe it just wasn't exciting enough to draw you to pay full dollar. I don't recall whether we went to this theater specifically because it was showing the movie we went to see, or, if we just went there, and picked from the two or three options, and that's how we ended up in this movie. The movie we watched was Deep Cover, starring Laurence Fishburne and Jeff Goldbloom.
A little more background. My hometown was overwhelmingly white. That's not to say there were no other ethnicities, there were, they just really were minorities in the physical you can count them easily sense. Teaneck, the town next door, had a remarkably larger non-white presence. Specifically, the town had a much larger african-american community. What's also possibly relevant, is that roughly two years prior to this event, was an event that happened in Teaneck to bring racial tensions to a high note. A black teenager was shot by a white police officer. I won't try to get into the details, because I'm certain I do not know them all. However, Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton got involved, so it was definitely high up on the National News for a while. It was also after Rodney King and not very long after the LA Riots. This should place things into a slight context.
Now, if you don't know anything about the movie Deep Cover, it's a movie that definitely takes on racial issues. It opens up with some provocative lines. You can read a transcript of the dialog here: http://www.script-o-rama.com/movie_scripts/d/deep-cover-script-transcript-fishburne.html It gets into some touchy stuff fast, real fast, like within the first few scenes. I would say you are supposed to be uncomfortable watching the movie, that is part of the point.
What we didn't know, was that our experience going into that movie was going to be quite different from what we might have expected at any other movie. See, we were the only three people in that theater who were not african-american, and it had to be at least two-thirds full. Maybe for one of the first times in my life, I was not only in a minority, but an extreme minority. In a time and place where racial tension was already high, watching a movie where racial tension was a part of the mood.
There was a point during the movie, where a black character shot a white character. From somewhere behind, someone yelled out "Yeah, that's right, shoot that cracker!*" I do not exaggerate that my friends and I literally slunk down into our chairs so that we would be less visible. And all three of us did it, you know, as if we had agreed to do it. Just a few seconds later, one of the men behind us stood up and shouted back. "Shut up you ignorant fool.**" It gave me a sense of relief. Someone was rational. Someone between me, and whoever it was that was angry enough to shout out at the screen such bias, had some sense. We watched the movie, and, as soon as it was over, we slunk out of there as fast as we could. Got to our car and congratulated ourselves at having "survived" such a tough encounter.
Now you might think that my point was to highlight a case where some white people*** suffered the effects on racism against them. Or perhaps it sounds like getting a little taste of what the other side might be like. But neither of those are my reasons, because while there was some prejudice involved in the incident, I don't think this is proof of anything. And I can't imagine that sitting through one movie, no matter how uncomfortable it might be, could possibly be a blip on the radar.
No, what this illustrates is racism in a more insidious form.
See, we were scared because racial tensions were high. Because mere months earlier in LA people had rioted. African-Americans had rioted. We bought into the idea, the media supported idea, that such people were prone to be irrational. They were going to fly off the handle. Hurt people because of a movie? I mean come on. Were we really ever in any kind of danger? Sure someone shouted out something inappropriate at the movie screen. Yeah, okay. But someone else had stood up, and told him to stop. And it stopped. We had evidence staring us in the face that the room was not filled with irrational people. Yet we continued to project our fear onto them. We had adopted the LA riots into our experience as evidence that African-Americans could fly off the handle with little provocation. And so we were attributing that behavior to them as a race. It was we who were being irrational, and we couldn't even see that. Funny how we placed our insecurities on them.
I don't believe we were in any more danger there, than we would have been in any other theater. My friends might well disagree with that, but, I think it was all in our heads. And that to me seems part of what's so insidious. The unconscious assumptions. Like, if we're the minority, automatically people were going to try to abuse us. Or that they were going to be violent at all. Or that they even would have taken notice of us. In fact, I can't be certain that the man who stood up to put a stop to it even knew we were there before he'd spoken up.
A little more background. My hometown was overwhelmingly white. That's not to say there were no other ethnicities, there were, they just really were minorities in the physical you can count them easily sense. Teaneck, the town next door, had a remarkably larger non-white presence. Specifically, the town had a much larger african-american community. What's also possibly relevant, is that roughly two years prior to this event, was an event that happened in Teaneck to bring racial tensions to a high note. A black teenager was shot by a white police officer. I won't try to get into the details, because I'm certain I do not know them all. However, Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton got involved, so it was definitely high up on the National News for a while. It was also after Rodney King and not very long after the LA Riots. This should place things into a slight context.
Now, if you don't know anything about the movie Deep Cover, it's a movie that definitely takes on racial issues. It opens up with some provocative lines. You can read a transcript of the dialog here: http://www.script-o-rama.com/movie_scripts/d/deep-cover-script-transcript-fishburne.html It gets into some touchy stuff fast, real fast, like within the first few scenes. I would say you are supposed to be uncomfortable watching the movie, that is part of the point.
What we didn't know, was that our experience going into that movie was going to be quite different from what we might have expected at any other movie. See, we were the only three people in that theater who were not african-american, and it had to be at least two-thirds full. Maybe for one of the first times in my life, I was not only in a minority, but an extreme minority. In a time and place where racial tension was already high, watching a movie where racial tension was a part of the mood.
There was a point during the movie, where a black character shot a white character. From somewhere behind, someone yelled out "Yeah, that's right, shoot that cracker!*" I do not exaggerate that my friends and I literally slunk down into our chairs so that we would be less visible. And all three of us did it, you know, as if we had agreed to do it. Just a few seconds later, one of the men behind us stood up and shouted back. "Shut up you ignorant fool.**" It gave me a sense of relief. Someone was rational. Someone between me, and whoever it was that was angry enough to shout out at the screen such bias, had some sense. We watched the movie, and, as soon as it was over, we slunk out of there as fast as we could. Got to our car and congratulated ourselves at having "survived" such a tough encounter.
Now you might think that my point was to highlight a case where some white people*** suffered the effects on racism against them. Or perhaps it sounds like getting a little taste of what the other side might be like. But neither of those are my reasons, because while there was some prejudice involved in the incident, I don't think this is proof of anything. And I can't imagine that sitting through one movie, no matter how uncomfortable it might be, could possibly be a blip on the radar.
No, what this illustrates is racism in a more insidious form.
See, we were scared because racial tensions were high. Because mere months earlier in LA people had rioted. African-Americans had rioted. We bought into the idea, the media supported idea, that such people were prone to be irrational. They were going to fly off the handle. Hurt people because of a movie? I mean come on. Were we really ever in any kind of danger? Sure someone shouted out something inappropriate at the movie screen. Yeah, okay. But someone else had stood up, and told him to stop. And it stopped. We had evidence staring us in the face that the room was not filled with irrational people. Yet we continued to project our fear onto them. We had adopted the LA riots into our experience as evidence that African-Americans could fly off the handle with little provocation. And so we were attributing that behavior to them as a race. It was we who were being irrational, and we couldn't even see that. Funny how we placed our insecurities on them.
I don't believe we were in any more danger there, than we would have been in any other theater. My friends might well disagree with that, but, I think it was all in our heads. And that to me seems part of what's so insidious. The unconscious assumptions. Like, if we're the minority, automatically people were going to try to abuse us. Or that they were going to be violent at all. Or that they even would have taken notice of us. In fact, I can't be certain that the man who stood up to put a stop to it even knew we were there before he'd spoken up.
Perhaps there are other interpretations of the event. I'm sure there are things I'm failing to consider. But that's all part of reflecting on it, to see what else I can learn.
* I am not positive that particular slur was the one used, it might have been honky, or whitey, or something similar, but it was definitely a slur word.
** I'm not positive that fool was his last word, it might have been more invective, but it was 15 years ago. The intent of the phrase remains.
*** Technically, two white people, and a part-white part-Native American. But if I didn't tell you my other friend wasn't 100% white, you probably wouldn't know that.