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Dad and racism
Feb. 8th, 2006 11:27 amMarie recently joined a club called STAR, or Students Together Against Racism, and she told us about it at dinner. Dad gave us a lecture about it throughout dinner, about his personal biases and such. First of all, he told us that even though one might say they're not racist while they're young, their personal biases have yet to be discovered as they get older. That was just the beginning. Then he went on with reasons why he doesn't like black people in general. First of all, the few negroid families that have ever been our neighbors live like slobs and don't take good care of their property. Every now and then, they also have parties during which they play their explicit rap music loud enough to be heard a block or two away. One time on his way to work, some black family passed him in their car, blasting some of the raunchiest lyrics he had ever heard. In his words, "When you were little, we went to great lengths to protect you from that stuff."
After we finished eating and cleaning up, Marie burst into tears about everything Dad said while doing her homework, because she was shocked to find out that he's racist. Dad tried to calm her down, but also told her that people aren't gonna like everything that any one person says. "That's what freedom of speech is all about," I added from across the living room. He then showed her yet another reason why he doesn't like black people: music videos on MTV and BET. Dad asked her rhetorically, "Do you see me this way? Do you think these guys are saying 'I need good grades so I can get into college and have a good job,' or do you think they're saying 'You're the reason I'm a bum'?" (He knows exactly what he's talking about; just imagine if our mother dressed and acted like one of those girls.) Not having gone out of my way to watch such videos in a while, I began to crack up at the brief sight of it. Dad told me to shut up, and on the third strike, he asked me to go to the other room. In this case, the bathroom, where I let myself laugh as long and hard as I felt like.
Later on that night, Marie was on the computer, and Dad was much more calm when he continued to resolve her feelings. That is, by telling her the difference between himself and a member of the KKK: the latter (at least in their own opinion) is absolutely right in everything he says. Dad, on the other hand, has his doubts, even after years of pondering the subject, and knows he is not politically correct by a long shot.
After we finished eating and cleaning up, Marie burst into tears about everything Dad said while doing her homework, because she was shocked to find out that he's racist. Dad tried to calm her down, but also told her that people aren't gonna like everything that any one person says. "That's what freedom of speech is all about," I added from across the living room. He then showed her yet another reason why he doesn't like black people: music videos on MTV and BET. Dad asked her rhetorically, "Do you see me this way? Do you think these guys are saying 'I need good grades so I can get into college and have a good job,' or do you think they're saying 'You're the reason I'm a bum'?" (He knows exactly what he's talking about; just imagine if our mother dressed and acted like one of those girls.) Not having gone out of my way to watch such videos in a while, I began to crack up at the brief sight of it. Dad told me to shut up, and on the third strike, he asked me to go to the other room. In this case, the bathroom, where I let myself laugh as long and hard as I felt like.
Later on that night, Marie was on the computer, and Dad was much more calm when he continued to resolve her feelings. That is, by telling her the difference between himself and a member of the KKK: the latter (at least in their own opinion) is absolutely right in everything he says. Dad, on the other hand, has his doubts, even after years of pondering the subject, and knows he is not politically correct by a long shot.