“I think people were surprised when Donald Trump won the election because usually the president is black. But when Kamala Harris wins, things will be normal again.”
— Kid, age 11, whose hopeful, raised-in-the-Obama-era innocence is giving me a reason to live right now so I’ll ignore how shockingly off-base he is regarding norms, and how swiftly and miserably he’s going to flunk U.S. History class.
Seriously that’s some F-minus shit right there.
Forgive my blatant racism, but here’s a list of the most respectable group of men (from most to least respectable), by race, based solely on who has been standing up to give me their seat on the subway in this last trimester of pregnancy.
Seriously. Every. Fucking. Time. Yesterday two black men actually started playfully arguing over which one of them wanted to give me his seat more. So I settled the dispute by letting them both stand, and placing one butt cheek in each seat. Everyone was a winner.So that’s it. Those are my findings*. Did I really need to break this down by race, and was doing so kind of offensive? No, I did not. And yes, probably? 
But I notice what I notice and thought it was an interesting trend, and unlike people who claim “I don’t see race,” I’d like to counter with “Ok, but I have eyes.”
*Findings of this study** are based solely on MY experience and observations alone. They should not be generalized to apply negative stereotyping to any particular group of people, which shouldn’t really be an issue as all races above are presented in a complimentary manner. Except, as a reminder, white men. They are all dicks.
**calling this a study is an insult to the word study.
Years ago, fresh out of graduate school, I worked at a school in the suburbs and had an awesome boss. We’ll call her Diane. Diane was the principal at a predominantly white, predominantly Catholic private school. She was the only black person on the premises, and I was the only Jew, and I always felt like we had a special bond because of that (I am acutely aware that she likely did not feel the same).
Anyway, one day her 5-year-old son came to visit the school, and because we had this special bond (re: I was the only one standing there), Diane asked me to watch him in the yard while she made a quick phone call. He was a gorgeous little boy with huge, beautiful eyes and a vivacious spirit. As I was watching him, a coworker of mine came outside and sat next to me. She was a stuffy, judgmental old white lady who I had absolutely nothing in common with (other than our whiteness) and who, needless to say, never really “got” my sense of humor or personality in general.
It was clear she didn’t like me. But because I was young and insecure, and had a broad, all-encompassing respect for the older generation (a respect I now hand out more selectively, thanks in part to this woman but also thanks to the various old ladies who have spit at me on the streets of NYC), I still felt the need for her approval.
So I tried to strike up a benign, friendly conversation as we watched Diane’s kid climb the jungle gym. “He is just too much, isn’t he? Such a beautiful kid. Diane is in so much trouble when he gets older.”
The woman turned to me, completely unamused and said, “You know, it is subtle statements like that that keep racism alive and present. Most Caucasian people inherently just assume that African American children will grow up to be ‘trouble makers,’ and that attitude becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy for them. I don’t see why you would conclude, just from looking at an African American boy, that he will cause trouble when he’s older.”
I stared at her, stunned.
And in that moment, I decided I no longer gave a fuck what she thought of me. Yes, she was old enough to be my grandmother, but you know what? Grandmas are assholes, too.
The prospect of no longer having to impress her was altogether freeing.
“I think you misunderstood me. I said ‘Diane is going to be in trouble when he’s older,’ because he is gorgeous and girls will be falling all over him. Which was a joke. But, to be clear, a joke that had nothing to do with race, and zero to do with him making any actual ‘trouble.’ The fact that you would jump to that conclusion makes you, in fact, the subtle, underlying racist.”
Watching this stuffy old white woman’s face crumble was one of the most satisfying moments of my life.
A few days later, she removed the Swastika-adorned wigwams that had been decorating the entryway to her 2nd grade classroom.
So yeah. I’d say we both learned something that day.
Analyzing The Beatles’ song “Blackbird” with 4th graders…
Us (after listening to the whole song): “The lyrics repeat ‘blackbird fly’ over and over. What do you think this song might be about?”
Kid: “Freedom!”
Us (excited that for once, a kid is inching towards a non-literal interpretation…) “Ohhh, interesting! Explain!”
Kid: “BLACKbird. Like black people. Black people weren’t always free. So it’s saying black people should be free.”
Emily's Posts 