confessions of a half-asian

This is very difficult for me to do because I grew up in the south where it is of absolute necessity that one deny racism at all costs whether it exists or not. Any mention of race is typically sidestepped with as little awkwardness as possible. It is important to note that here I am speaking of the discussion of racism among your average man-on-the-street and not the discussion of racism in the news (where it is used mainly for the scandal appeal and not for any real effort to unite the races) I realized my own racism today when driving home from the after school program where I volunteer. I realized that I had automatically judged the children based on their Jerry curls and baggy pants.

The after school program usually goes like this: I walk into the building. Suddenly I am assaulted by the sights and sounds of about fifty children running wild. This entails screaming, chasing, throwing, biting, jumping, eating, and basically any other gerund you can think of. At any rate it is all very loud and chaotic. Also there are usually about ten tutors standing there looking bewildered and frightened. After the children get their snacks (which involves a lot more negotiation then you would think–i.e. “I didn’t get enough juice.” “yes, you did” “no, I only got to here” < etc.), then it is time for the tutors to take them upstairs and work on their homework. Depending on the child this can be very enjoyable or very miserable. (A side note: the girl I worked with today thought that George Clooney–not George Washington–was a president.) Also, during this time the tutors live in fear of Coach W. who will pop unexpectedly into the work room and terrorize us for not making the kids sit up or down properly and using battered pencils and allowing them to wear coats and all manner of unexpectedly deviant behavior. When all the kids have done their homework we usually go downstairs to the gym or out to the playground and play any variety of game involving chasing or throwing a ball. At five o’clock I gracefully and gratefully exit.

One part of this picture that I have neglected to paint for you is this: almost without exception (there is one white girl named Riley) the children are black. The majority of the tutors are white or Indian. And this is where my racism kicks in: although I never attributed it to their skin color I did associate their loudness, obnoxiousness and bossy-ness (is this a word?) to their race. I am ashamed to admit it. As I have done more and more tutoring with them, however, I have learned an important thing. In general this children are just as smart and compliant as white children (there, how stark is my racism now). And just as lazy as white children, too.They are eager to learn when the opportunity is provided and fun to be around. I continue to think that they are in general louder and more bossy with each other but this is largely the way they have been socialized. There is the occasional loud trouble maker, seeking attention in any way possible but when have you ever been around more than five children and not had a child like that?

And so I have learned a very valuable lesson: that I was a racist without even knowing it. that all those subtle underhanded comments we in the south throw in about “blacks” had made their intrusive way into my thinking. Never again.