Maybe I'm a racist

This week, Macon hosted yet another dialogue on local race relations in the hopes of, yet again, getting over this historic trouble of ours. (“Ours” as in Macon’s, the South’s, and most importantly, America’s.) And this week, we’ve been beset with an onslaught of Oprah. And last night, I was at Chasen’s Lounge for “The Black Party”, which was well attended by about two hundred black people and eight white folks.

My brother and I were the two white dudes, and there were about six white chicks. I say that because it was something I was aware of, and it was something everyone else seemed to be aware of. No one did anything to make me feel uncomfortable. Whatever discomfort I may have felt would’ve been solely of my own making.

Truth is, if I’d had a little more to drink, which I would’ve if I didn’t have to drive home, I probably would’ve had a great time. As it were, I only had a good time.

Still, I couldn’t help but think of race relations and Oprah. As I’ve said numerous times before, echoing or agreeing with the same sentiments by others, we are a city that voluntarily segregates itself socially and then wonders why we don’t get along. While scores of people across God’s beautiful color spectrum flocked for a glimpse of Oprah, the only black female billionaire in America, we all pretty much went to “whites only” and “blacks only” parties when the sun went down.

Some of this boils down to preference. Not every black person loves country music so it’s silly to think most black people would go to Whiskey River or the Hummingbird to hang out. Not every white person loves to get crunk to Soulja Boy so it’s silly to think most white people would go to Club Money’s or Studio 32 to hang out. Same for our churches, which folks have rightly pointed out as our most segregated local institutions. Maybe the prudish, stoic worship services at most white churches don’t appeal to blacks, and the more raucous, spiritual services at most black churches don’t appeal to whites. That’s just culture and we should all pat ourselves on the back for having some.

But there’s also something else in the equation. I think it is fair to assume and then say that most white folks and black folks don’t feel welcome in each other’s “territory”. Not to pick on my little brother, but I know he wasn’t comfortable because he said folks were staring. Those stares were probably just curiosity or maybe even astonishment. As far as I could tell, there was nothing malicious about it at all. Still, he didn’t feel welcome there, and I understand why.

We don’t feel welcome in each other’s places because we assume we aren’t welcome. We talk about the assumptions each race makes about the other—the stereotypes one group has for another—but we don’t think much about the assumptions we have about the way one feels about the other. In other words, white people might think that poor blacks are criminals, and that’s wrong and it is harmful, but I don’t think it is as widespread or, ultimately, as harmful as the assumption that white folks have regarding whether or not black people mind us hanging out with them.

Granted, the “well-intentioned whites”, a sub-genre that has been mentioned enough to merit official designation, who patronize black people probably wouldn’t be welcome as freely, but it’s stupid to think that if you’re a white person who actually like hip-hop that you shouldn’t go to where it’s most often played.

For the most part, because of our society’s structure, black people most often have to be the odd men and women out. Most often, they are the resident aliens. Overall, they make up about 12%-15% of the population, but in Macon, it’s about 50% or so. And still, how often do you see the lone black couple or the scattered handful in a restaurant predominated by whites, or at a work function or whatnot. That they don’t feel welcome makes a little more sense because of the hereditary feeling of entitlement that whites tend to carry into a situation, but despite that, black folks are more willing to cross those lines.

I don’t think we’re going to solve anything in regards to race relations until we’re better integrated when we party. Again, I understand the preference thing, but I also understand that we, in this small world era, have a lot more common interests than ever before. And our social time doesn’t have to just be partying.

This week, I sat in the Books-a-Million café drinking coffee and checking out books. While I was there, I watched a group of black men congregate to play chess. At some point, an elderly white man with a walker/chair thing joined them. He played an intense game with the youngest looking guy there, decked out in a cockeyed ballcap and athletic apparel. The longer I watched, the more of their friendly banter I caught. It was not just weird but refreshing.

I think the stereotypes always dissolve in social settings. It might take time, but it happens. (And yes, some stereotypes, especially for those who are more willing to confuse regular human flaws as the particular deficiencies of an entire race, are born in these situations.) As awful as it is to hear a white person say, “but some of my best friends are black people,” I know that there’s truth in it. When I hear it, I hear someone saying, “I might be a bigot but I did take the time to, because I had to, get to know someone I would’ve hated from a distance.”