It's not always about race..,,
Sometimes, people are just assholes. I find myself, a lot lately, leaning in the direction of racism for the answer to the way people conduct themselves. This blog is a prime example of that. Truth be told most of the time it is not racism and the asshole being inappropriate is just too ignorant to even co-relate the race and person in to one issue.
When I was young, my mother always jumped on that bandwagon. She, herself, is white. She has blonde hair and blue eyes. Growing up in the northern regions of Ontario, she didn't even see a black person until she was three or four. Now in her 50s, she still remembers that particular incident. She was in awe of this person with the chocolate skin. She said she actually thought that she would want to taste him. To see if he tasted as sweet as his skin looked. That is childhood innocence for you. There was no bitterness or negativity in her first encounter with a minority person. Just curiosity and wonder. Time in the big city changed that for her.
There were incidents in her life, that could have turned her away from the "melting pot" that is this city. Violent and nasty incidents. But it didn't. She met and married and Native man. She gave birth to four children by him. She (and her family) thought it was a wonderful thing. Her family still held on to the legacy of their ancestors. The legacy which included only surviving Canadian winters because of the natives. The natives taught them how to conserve, preserve and what food's to eat to keep them healthy during the long cold months. In short, they were thrilled at having a native in the family and even more thrilled with the four little native babies that came afterwards.
It was the 70s then. And this big city wasn't quite to the progressive point that it is now. Keep it mind it was still a heck of a lot better then most places to the south of us. She became very protective of her children.
When baby #2 (that's me) was still in a carriage, two elderly women stopped to admire the beautiful baby. When one remarked "What a beautiful asian baby", my mother told her very strongly that I was indeed native and looked nothing like and asian baby. Not that she has anything against asian babies, more like her pride was hurt that her beautiful native baby was being misidentified.
As we all grew older, there were incidents in our lives that were bad. Bad people did bad things. I will not go in to detail because my particular incidents are too long winded and my siblings stories are theirs to tell...not mine. I can remember though, that during several of those incidents, when my mother with her Irish temper would call the assholes involved, racists. I remember their stunned looks as the realization that I was not white came in to their tiny little minds. It was then that I knew, they were not racists. It was also then that I realized that not everything is racially motivated and sometimes people are just assholes. Mean little people that want to hurt, regardless of your skintone.
When I was young, my mother always jumped on that bandwagon. She, herself, is white. She has blonde hair and blue eyes. Growing up in the northern regions of Ontario, she didn't even see a black person until she was three or four. Now in her 50s, she still remembers that particular incident. She was in awe of this person with the chocolate skin. She said she actually thought that she would want to taste him. To see if he tasted as sweet as his skin looked. That is childhood innocence for you. There was no bitterness or negativity in her first encounter with a minority person. Just curiosity and wonder. Time in the big city changed that for her.
There were incidents in her life, that could have turned her away from the "melting pot" that is this city. Violent and nasty incidents. But it didn't. She met and married and Native man. She gave birth to four children by him. She (and her family) thought it was a wonderful thing. Her family still held on to the legacy of their ancestors. The legacy which included only surviving Canadian winters because of the natives. The natives taught them how to conserve, preserve and what food's to eat to keep them healthy during the long cold months. In short, they were thrilled at having a native in the family and even more thrilled with the four little native babies that came afterwards.
It was the 70s then. And this big city wasn't quite to the progressive point that it is now. Keep it mind it was still a heck of a lot better then most places to the south of us. She became very protective of her children.
When baby #2 (that's me) was still in a carriage, two elderly women stopped to admire the beautiful baby. When one remarked "What a beautiful asian baby", my mother told her very strongly that I was indeed native and looked nothing like and asian baby. Not that she has anything against asian babies, more like her pride was hurt that her beautiful native baby was being misidentified.
As we all grew older, there were incidents in our lives that were bad. Bad people did bad things. I will not go in to detail because my particular incidents are too long winded and my siblings stories are theirs to tell...not mine. I can remember though, that during several of those incidents, when my mother with her Irish temper would call the assholes involved, racists. I remember their stunned looks as the realization that I was not white came in to their tiny little minds. It was then that I knew, they were not racists. It was also then that I realized that not everything is racially motivated and sometimes people are just assholes. Mean little people that want to hurt, regardless of your skintone.
posted by Kari at 7:32 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home