![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
(no subject)
I wasn't going to write about this because it's so
Margaret Atwood said "Being white is getting more and more exhausting. There are so many bad waves attached to it."
I decided to emerge from seclusion and go out to breakfast with my cousin a couple of days ago. Pretty much I'd rather not do this, but it doesn't seem psychologically healthy to be as reclusive as I am. Or something like that.
So we eat breakfast together and tell each other lies that make our lives seem completely uninteresting (or maybe her life just is uninteresting, I don't know.
She had to stop at her son's house to pick up something after we ate and as we got out of the car I roused myself from my near comatose state to try to act normal and said, "Nice neighborhood."
She rolls her eyes and says, "Except a black family just moved in down the street. "
One of the most wonderful things about transracial adoption for me has been the truly astounding reduction in the number of blatantly racist comments I have to hear like this. Everyone in my neighborhood, everyone in my family, at the school, at 4H, everywhere I go, knows that I have African American children and I'm hardly ever subjected to this kind of thing anymore. On recounting this to my husband he was surprised to discover that my cousin harbors such racist sentiments. I am not at all surprised by that, I'm just mad that she shared it with me, that she wouldn't let me alone in my little safe deluded life.
Years ago I would have launched into a self righteous lecture about the evils of racism and just a short time ago I would have tried to gently nudge her towards a better awareness, but I found myself overcome by a feeling of futility. There was a long, awkward silence during which she no doubt remembered that I'm no longer completely white, and then she changed the subject. And I allowed her to do that because I'm going to be unhappy about this really no matter what I do or say.
I've become the kind of racist that packs off a couple of bucks to the Southern Poverty Law Center and then checks what's on TV and what we're having for supper. I'm worn down and exhausted from struggling with people and I just don't want to be bothered.
I'm going back into seclusion for a while now, but I don't feel good about myself.
Why do people talk to me anyway? I don't actually speak English and I'm pretty sure I'm not from around here.
I decided to emerge from seclusion and go out to breakfast with my cousin a couple of days ago. Pretty much I'd rather not do this, but it doesn't seem psychologically healthy to be as reclusive as I am. Or something like that.
So we eat breakfast together and tell each other lies that make our lives seem completely uninteresting (or maybe her life just is uninteresting, I don't know.
She had to stop at her son's house to pick up something after we ate and as we got out of the car I roused myself from my near comatose state to try to act normal and said, "Nice neighborhood."
She rolls her eyes and says, "Except a black family just moved in down the street. "
One of the most wonderful things about transracial adoption for me has been the truly astounding reduction in the number of blatantly racist comments I have to hear like this. Everyone in my neighborhood, everyone in my family, at the school, at 4H, everywhere I go, knows that I have African American children and I'm hardly ever subjected to this kind of thing anymore. On recounting this to my husband he was surprised to discover that my cousin harbors such racist sentiments. I am not at all surprised by that, I'm just mad that she shared it with me, that she wouldn't let me alone in my little safe deluded life.
Years ago I would have launched into a self righteous lecture about the evils of racism and just a short time ago I would have tried to gently nudge her towards a better awareness, but I found myself overcome by a feeling of futility. There was a long, awkward silence during which she no doubt remembered that I'm no longer completely white, and then she changed the subject. And I allowed her to do that because I'm going to be unhappy about this really no matter what I do or say.
I've become the kind of racist that packs off a couple of bucks to the Southern Poverty Law Center and then checks what's on TV and what we're having for supper. I'm worn down and exhausted from struggling with people and I just don't want to be bothered.
I'm going back into seclusion for a while now, but I don't feel good about myself.
Why do people talk to me anyway? I don't actually speak English and I'm pretty sure I'm not from around here.