What it's like to be black in Naperville, America

[ehrnst]

Last edited Fri Jul 15, 2016, 01:27 PM - Edit history (1)

The first time I was acutely aware of my Blackness, I was probably 6 or 7 years old. Like, before then obviously I knew I was Black, but I hadn't really had it put in my face like this until I was about 6 or 7. I used to go to daycare back then, and we went on a field trip to a water park one time. One of the other boys from the daycare came up to me and told me he was surprised I was going on the trip because his dad told him all colored people were afraid of the water since we sink to the bottom. He didn't know he was being offensive. He was just curious why someone who would sink to the bottom would want to go to a water park.
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My least favorite time of the year, every year, was February. Black History Month. Being the only Black kid in the class, I was the designated reader for the entire month. When it came time to read from our history books about slavery and the Triangle Trade Route, I was always the one who was chosen to read. When it came time to read about Jim Crow, it was my turn. George Washington Carver and the peanut? That sounds like a job for Brian. Booker T. Washington? Harriet Tubman? Surely Brian is the perfect choice for those passages. All the while, I felt the eyes of my fellow students on me. Again, I was already a shy kid. So, having an entire classroom of White kids stare at me while I explained what lynching and Black Codes were was pretty mortifying.

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In high school, I was around more Black kids. Still not a lot, but more than zero, so that was nice. When I was fifteen, I got my first "real" girlfriend. I'd asked some girls out before, and some of them said yes, but when you're 13 or 14 years old, what does "going out" even mean? So, my first "real" girlfriend was White. After all, I was living in an overwhelmingly White community and it's not like I was a heartthrob, so I was in no position to tell a girl who liked me that I was only interested in dating a Black girl. I might've never had a girlfriend if that was the line I drew. We were a good couple. We got along well and had similar interests and stuff. Basically, what you'd like to have as a high school sophomore. Her parents were divorced, but her mom and stepdad liked me. Then, her biological father found out I was Black. A week later, she called me crying and said we had to break up. Her dad didn't support her dating a Black person. So, my first heartbreak came as a direct result of racism.

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I got pulled over a lot in high school. Like, a lot a lot. By this point, I was no longer driving the Dodge. I had a Mazda of my own. It was flashy and loud, but this was 2002 and everybody with a Japanese car was doing a Vin Diesel impression, so it's not like mine stood out that much more than anyone else's. I spent a ton of money on my car and was especially aware of its appearance. You can understand, then, why it was weird that I was routinely pulled over for a busted taillight. After all, that's the kind of thing I would've noticed and gotten fixed, especially if that taillight tended to burn out once a week or so. My parents had told me how to act when pulled over by the police, so of course I was all "Yes sir, no sir" every time it happened. That didn't stop them from asking me to step out of the car so they could pat me down or search for drugs, though. I didn't have a drop of alcohol until I was 21, but by that point I was an expert at breathalyzers and field sobriety tests. On occasion, the officer was polite. But usually, they walked up with their hand on their gun and talked to me like I'd been found guilty of a grisly homicide earlier in the day. A handful of times, they'd tell me to turn off the car, drop the keys out the window, and keep my hands outside the vehicle before even approaching.

http://www.chicagotribune.com/suburbs/naperville-sun/ct-nvs-being-black-naperville-america-st-0715-20160714-story.html

[frazzled]

1. It seems race doesn't dawn on anyone until around 6 or 7

Unless, perhaps, it is inculcated into a child purposefully at an earlier age. This story held no surprises, even for me, a white person (though being a rare Jewish kid in my public school I can begin to grasp at the feelings of "difference" expressed here).

The story about Black History Month hit a note with me. I recall when my daughter was in 2nd grade, so about 7 years old, she came home every day in February with a little story-sheet about a famous black leader--the same George Washington Carver and Harriet Tubman stories alluded to in the article. She was enthralled, wanted me to read them as well, and she wanted to talk about them a lot. It occurred to me that in 2nd grade, they'd never really had any history lessons of any sort, and she was delighted by this new material. I said to her, "You really like these lessons, don't you? You're lucky you have Mrs. H. as a teacher." "Why?" she asked. "Well, because she knows so much about this subject," I responded. "Why?" my daughter asked again. "Well, because she's black," I said, thinking I was stating the obvious. My daughter's eyes opened wide: "She is?" she responded, incredulously. I didn't know whether to laugh or be alarmed: how was it that my daughter had sat in that classroom for 6 months and never noticed her teacher was African American? She was, of course, just her teacher, a beloved teacher, and it hadn't occurred to this child to assign her any other characteristic.

As someone who worked a lot with young children in a very multicultural school (equally Hmong and Vietnamese, white, and African American), I can attest that young children, in general, see race neither in themselves or in others as a defining characteristic. Gender often beats race or ethnicity on the playground (ewww, boys!).

How can we engender this sense of self and of others throughout the age groups and extend it throughout our society?

[ehrnst]

2. I think that they skin color in the way that they see other things

My son would say that his friend was brown, like he would say that his other friend had gold hair.

They are geared to absorb patterns, and characteristics of people.

My caucasian friends who have adopted children of color said their kids noticed early that their friends and their families looked more similar than they did. It's how people talk about it and respond to it that creates the divide.

In our family, which is caucasian, we discuss issues of race, gender, and sexual identity, because if we don't then our son will pick up the societal attitudes without critical skills to identify them as such.

[sagetea]

3. My daughter, too

Could not see the importance of designating a color to a beloved person. Maybe, it was because she herself is very fair skinned, but me being Native, I took her to the reservation quite often growing up. She did mention a time or two that she wished she could get as tan as her cousins are!!!

To the OP, I wish I could hug you, I wish that nobody has to live in a world where the only thing that matters is the color of skin.

Ho`

sage

[Jeffersons Ghost]

4. K&R