Mocha Momma » I’m Black Irish and I’m Proud

Yesterday I came into contact with a racist.

A table full of them to be exact. My contact with them could have gone much better on my part. But I’m cynical about this sort of stuff having grown up light-skinned enough to “pass”. I come by that honestly. Now, my father, on the other hand, is much darker than I and his sister, one of my favorite aunts, is a lovely caramel color and if you were to see the whole family lined up you’d find every conceivable shade available. To me, this is a beautiful sight.

I could have politely interrupted their loud (no, really, this was ridiculously loud) conversation about all the “Pakistanis” and “Blacks” and “foreigners” that are taking over and how they’re everywhere. There were plenty of hateful things that came out of their mouths and each time they said something I responded back. Loudly. But not directly. Only the woman heard me and she obviously got them to pay attention to the fact that they were bothering other patrons around them. Eventually, they left.

It is a terrible thing, this being able to pass. There is the strange position I’ve found myself in that shocks me, it always shocks me with a jolt, when someone starts speaking this code that they are sure you understand. They lean in, pull you into their circle of trust, and then betray it. They assume you agree with them. You must! You look white! So you probably totally understand their racism!

Mind you, these older people probably felt justified in being able to have their conversation in public because they’ve always talked like that. Before you go defending their bad behavior let me say this: It’s 2010. TWO THOUSAND TEN. In the year of 2010 my President is Black and so is theirs. THE PRESIDENT. IS BLACK. (Or MIXED. MULATTO. Whatever.) The Civil Rights Movement happened in their lifetime. I sincerely hate it when people excuse them with, “But that’s their generation. That’s what they grew up with! They don’t know any better!” Instead of doling out pardons for their racism let me suggest that they ought to be embarrassed that they’ve lived through all of that and still haven’t learned anything from it. Let me propose that they’ve have multiple opportunities to learn from their lives in America and have managed to have their racism forgiven time and time again. Let’s just all take responsibility for that.

One time when I was dating a guy in college he took me home to meet his parents. I was nervous because I was a 19-year old girl/woman who had a daughter by then and he was a single, college-aged boy so it concerned me that his family would be upset by that. Unfortunately, I was focused on the wrong thing. What they were upset about in regards to me was that I was Black. That is what bothered them about me when they first met me. From hearing this boy tell me about his family I was shocked because it didn’t seem like they would be like that. I had to ask him, “Let me get this straight. Your brother is married to a Korean woman and your sister is a lesbian and your parents have a problem with ME?”

Before I digress too far let me just say I ended up marrying (and divorcing) him and that I gave his family the whitest damn grandchildren ever produced. Seriously. They’re nearly transparent.

My father, also of the generation of people in question, is getting older. He’s reached his 70s and doesn’t like to live in the racism of his past. Rarely does he talk about it. But there are things about him that are so progressive and innovative and he’s always, in my mind, been that way. His sister once recounted a story that made my sisters and I see him in an entirely new light and, in some ways, sort of explained him to us. He was young, maybe 10 or so, and he was going to get a new pair of shoes. Back in the day (it’s kinder to use that then to tell you just what decade in which this occurred) that was a big deal. New shoes? That was luxurious! Normally, my dad wore shoes until the soles wore off and then put cardboard in them repeatedly until it was finally time for a new pair. His father was supposed to take him shopping and he went downtown to where he, my grandfather, was working at the time to meet him and be taken to the shoe store.

I never met my grandfather on my dad’s side. He died before I was born, but I know enough about him to know that he “passed” for white in the early part of the century. He got jobs as a “white man” and was hired because he looked white enough. When my dad went downtown to get my grandfather that day he waited and waited for him to come out. He never did. Finally, he asked for someone to get his dad in the shop and another worker (a manager? an owner? I don’t know.) brings my grandfather to the front of the store because this kid is claiming to be his son and he’s been out there waiting.

This kid. My father. Who is dark. Who is Black.

“This nigger kid waiting out here says he’s your son.” That word, and you know which one, always jars me when I hear it told in this story.

Until, of course, I hear the part where my grandfather shakes his head back and forth and replies: “I’ve never seen him before.”

When my aunt told this story my dad was quiet and my hand flew up to my mouth and I searched my sister’s faces and we all sat still and cried. And we’ve never really spoken of it and he might not like that I’ve shared that story in writing but it has to say something about our family and our place in this country that it’s even an experience worth recounting. I think this is true especially since people’s feelings on race are still not at a place where we can talk comfortably about it. Granted, the fact that my grandfather denied my father as his son so he wouldn’t lose his job happened a long time ago and these old, white racists sitting at their table in a public restaurant next to me are from the same era. All parties lived through the same decades even though they lived vastly different lives.

Last week, my dad called me on St. Patrick’s day to wish me luck and a good day. Come on. This Black man had a daughter with an Irish-German woman and named her Kelly and my sisters are named Tracy and Erin. We kind of have to celebrate, you know?

I’d like to think that there are more like me and my family. I’d like to think that I’m normal. Maybe even that people like me are taking over.

Whatever the hell that means.

March 22, 2010 @ 4:22 am | Filed under All Black Folks Do NOT Look Alike, Damnit | Permalink | Comments (145)

145 Comments »

Inkognegro Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 4:33 am

Congratulations…This is the first blog post to EVER make me tear up.

The prospect of being denied by your father is completely impossible to take with dry eyes.
Melissa Chapman Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 4:44 am

When I get tidbits of my father’s past ( he was born in a work camp during the Holocaust) it definitely opens up a window into his personality and helps me try to make sense of the enigma that is my dad. I cannot imagine how painful that experience your dad had with his own father must have been for him.
the new girl Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 4:50 am

Kelly–this was the best ever post. Really. The best EVER.

For a while, I worked in a nursing home which housed nearly all black people who were almost exclusively from the deep south. Folks who had lived and worked and struggled during Jim Crow. I was the only white person on staff there (save the social worker who had very little contact with our residents.) The only one. I’ve written before how such an experience educated me and enriched my life. I heard stories like your father’s over and over and each time–EACH TIME–I would get tears and chills and feel like omgwhattheHELL? You know? What the HELL?

Incidentally, I HAAATE The Racist Assumption. You describe it so perfectly. For me, it feels like the color of my skin, my Whiteness, makes me an automatic member of the Racist F#$%kers club. I often think that those people are so CLUELESS. Even as they’re talking, I’m thinking, ‘You don’t even know me. You don’t even know who you’re TALKING TO.’
@stellar225/Caoilinn Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 5:07 am

I didn’t see it coming and the welling up of tears was immediate.

It would have caused a pang before being a mom, sure, but now it sets off a whole range of intense emotions. And a fierce determination to teach my children how not to be like those bigoted fools.
Robin Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 5:18 am

Kelly, THANK YOU for posting this.

I actually want to share this entry with all of my White friends who have family that are clearly racist, but excuse their racism with “Well, they’re from another generation, you understand that, right?” (when that generation is the Baby Boomers) or “Well, you have to understand that they’re never around any Black people, so of course they’re going to be nervous around you.” What am I? An alien? Did Black people just descend onto earth like District 9?

Maybe if they read this story – even if it’s just for a minute – they can walk a mile in your shoes (and your family’s shoes) and realize that ignorance really is a choice, not something you’re born with.
Susan Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 5:23 am

Jesus. How old is your dad? What year was it when that incident happened? I lost my breath for a minute when I read that story.

Here’s the story of racism in my family.

My dad’s dad came to Chicago from Texas where he got a job running a warehouse for the Mars candy company. His workforce was, I’m guessing. 99% black. My grandfather was very racist. By all accounts he treated the workers well but I still remember being a little kid when he first retired (early 1970s) and him telling me stories about the “niggers” and “coons” in his warehouse. He told me they “had a certain smell” and that “they should be picking cotton.” I remember him saying those words so…naturally. He never thought there was anything wrong with it.

As I got older though, and he saw the person his oldest grandchild was turning into, he delighted in pushing my buttons by deliberately saying those words occasionally and hearing me say “grandpa, that’s disgusting!” I was just a little kid. Why did he do that to me? Did he want me to grow up using those words?

He died in 1990 when I was 24. Now my own father is 70 and he is a retired school teacher from the Chicago inner city public schools. He poured his heart and soul into his job. He was a history teacher, and then a counselor, and then a dean. My mom describes him coming home from work in the early years of their marriage when I was a baby and I cry hearing stories about how hard he worked trying to help at-risk, mostly minority kids make it out of the projects. How much he cared and worried about his students. Angry kids, gang kids, kids who disrespected authority, kids who certainly didn’t give a damn about passing History class.

I know it fucked with his head to work with so many kids who never made it. I know he grew up with an extremely racist father. I know he was a great teacher and he was never much appreciated for what he did. I know he experienced a lot of terrible things in his career. So is my dad a racist? I’m not exactly sure, to this day. Every once in a while my own father uses the N word—usually when he’s watching sports or the evening news. Yet, I sense a difference in the way my dad uses the words and the way my grandpa used them. I know my dad knows it is crude, offensive and wrong. So why does he say them? Is he venting? Does he hate? I’m still trying to figure it out. I watched an NCAA basketball tourney game with him yesterday and he said “it” once. My head shot up. I was silent.

I loved my grandpa so, so much and I love my dad even more. But it’s definitely hard to reconcile their prejudices about certain skin colors making lesser human beings than others. Are they bad people?

After the earthquake in Haiti I told my mom I wish I could go and adopt some orphans starving in the street and she said “oh my gosh that would be so great but your father wouldn’t like it.” I burst into tears. I want to believe my father isn’t really racist. And I want to believe if he is, at least it will die with his generation.

But I cry because my brother–age 42–is his father’s father’s son, and he has two sons of his own. He insults the President’s skin color every chance he gets in my presence, knowing it offends me. He thinks it’s hilarious. Why? I just don’t get it.

And then I think, why didn’t I* turn out that way, with those prejudices? I must have been determined NOT to turn out that way. Kind of like the way my parents hit us when we were kids and I thought to myself, I will NEVER hit my kids. And I haven’t. Does that make sense? Is that wrong, that I had to consciously choose not to be racist? I wish I could be a member of the generation—hopefully, my younger kids—who don’t have to teach themselves not to be racist. God, I just re-read this post and it sounds terrible. I’m sorry. How can my hateful lineage apologize enough for what your family had to go through?

Sorry for rambling on. Thank you for this. I am so sorry for what your dad went through. And your grandfather. And of course you’re normal. You are beautiful. I love you for letting this out.
Sandy Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 5:29 am

Kelly,

Thank you for sharing this story. Hopefully, someone in need, will read it and be awakened.
afreshmusic Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 5:35 am

This was a great blog post. The best post I’ve read in a long time.
Keyona Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 5:46 am

Wow. Thank you for that. I have been in similar situations and it’s hard to figure out how to react.

I.Love.This.Post.
Aviatrixt Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 5:49 am

We are taking over. I might not be of the same mixed heritage, but I can tell you, we are taking over. Whatever that means.

Thank you so much for sharing this story, Kelly. I will add my voice to the choir and say that this is, perhaps, the most touching story of yours I’ve read.
Maria Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 5:49 am

Yeah, you’re normal. We’re everywhere. And have you seen my daughters? Pale doesn’t begin to cover it! But, the weird thing is that instead of my ex husband’s family being the racist ones, it was my ex husband…

God, that story killed me, on behalf of your father. I can’t imagine how that must have made him feel.
Sarcastica Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 5:54 am

Amazing post.

I wish racism wasn’t as common as it still is.
Will Jones Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 5:56 am

Great story. Fantasticly tragic.

My dad’s black and my mom’s Irish/Welsh. I can’t pass (except on the phone), but my mom and dad got married in the early 60s, when it wasn’t even legal for them to do that in some states. Growing up, I wasn’t “really black” to my father’s side, but I was far too black for my mother’s side and, as such, I have had similar things happen to me… from both sides. It was hard enough not really fitting in anywhere, but it was much harder being shunned by a blood relative… who couldn’t fit in because they were with me. When I was little, I use to wonder, if the sun burned out one day, and no one could see what color they were, how would they decide which group they belonged to… and which groups they didn’t like?
Your story made me start wondering again. Thanks for telling it.
furiousball Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 5:59 am

beautiful, just like you
Ellen G Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 6:01 am

This couldn’t have been fun to write, but thank you for taking the time to do it. I don’t think we can ever stop talking about prejudice in all it’s forms. The more we put it out there,the harder it is to ignore.
Curvy Jones Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 6:08 am

Wow, and good for you. So many people come back to their blogs and rant but have done nothing, said nothing at the time the incident occurred. I sometimes get great joy out of showing people just who they are. Bravo!
Minnie Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 6:18 am

I’m sitting at my desk crying for the little boy that your father was.

My mind cannot be wrapped around something so ugly.
Meg Evans Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 6:19 am

Going for the kleenex box right now. Thank you for sharing this. And I just hate, hate, hate that “it’s their generation” excuse. It’s horseshit!

Sorry–back to the kleenex.
Angie Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 6:22 am

Kelly,

You did it again girl, pulled at the heart strings and wrote a stroy that I could definately relate to on a personal basis. Our lineage comes in all different shades as you pointed out in your post.

I remember in the 70’s when my mother would take me and my sister to the grocery store with her. My mother looks like pochahontas. People would pass us then do a double take as though they had seen a ghost. I was always sure they were asking, “What is that white woman doing with those black kids.” We were so used to it that we would walk with our head held up as if we were superstars. Glad for the attention, sorry for their ignorance.

Another occasion was when my mother had to bring my lunch to school because I forgot it. She walked into the classroom, the whole classroom started laughing saying that my mother was white. At this time, I didn’t know the difference between black and white so I thought that they were saying something bad and I started crying.

It wasn’t until recently that I learned my mother has Mexican blood flowing through her veins. Her father was a pure Mexian. The Indian and White linage I was aware of, but the Mexican through me for a loop. My mother hid the Mexican lineage because her parents were not married at the time of her conception, and that was totally taboo in the ’50s. Her father died before she was born. And you can write a book on the racist endeavors she encountered growing up in racist Mississippi.

Do I need to go an further…
Laurie Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 6:52 am

People who think that way aren’t embarrassed because their belief that they are correct doesn’t require further introspection. (And this is a conclusion I have reached based on almost 40 years of familiarity with this kind of noise.) I also can’t blame it entirely on being older because I’ve heard some horrifying talk from young people in recent years, and not the kind you would have to go to special web sites to read, either. Just them hanging out, hating. Hearing it from them was even more like being punched in the face.

I will spare you my personal saga of generational shifts in racism but I can only hope that people like you (and like me, or the me I strive to be in my personal life if I didn’t exactly get it from my family of origin) are the newer normal, at least in this respect.

As usual I appreciate your perspective – because you’re so smart and honest and reflective about the human condition, good and bad and everywhere else. I think about these things a lot and sometimes it’s hard to know the time and place for these kinds of conversations so I appreciate you doing it here. I guess all we can do is share our own experiences and thoughts and hope something good comes from it.
KBO Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 7:01 am

I fucking love you. Write your memoirs, already.
Alice Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 7:05 am

here via the new girl, and so happy she pointed me here. amazing post, thank you.

i get so riled up hearing stories like this, gah. i know it’s a sort of weird thing to hope, but i hope i end up marrying someone not white, so that my kids are a lovely mix of things. i want them to help be a part of the people like you who are taking over
uberVU - social comments Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 7:11 am

Social comments and analytics for this post…

This post was mentioned on Twitter by mochamomma: Let me shorten that url if you want to read this post on old, white racists: http://u.nu/4mmu7…
Tanya Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 7:14 am

wow. Just wow. Never had the urge to hug some random old black dude I never met and comfort him for something that happened to him before I was ever born. Just wow.
Kyran Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 7:24 am

Great post, and great timing. I just wrapped up a chapter about encountering that kind of rationalization for racism when I came to America and was floored to hear hateful language coming from the mouths of people I knew to be otherwise loving and kind.
DeLaMi Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 7:27 am

Oh racism. It’s always been my favorite topic. (geez where is the sarcasm button on the key board?) Anyway, It’s always been a fun topic for me because I over analyze everything and use a little more logic than some. My thoughts are “what do you mean I cant date your son? I have awesome grades, a wonderful reputation, you have known me for years, I’m cute as a button and I know how to act in public. Wait… because I’m Black. Hmmmm interesting.” That has happen to me twice. It’s fun at 13 and 14 to get pulled aside by a friends parent and be told you are a wonderful girl except this “one thing”. Or better yet my 10 year old self sitting on LLCC campus waiting for my mom to pick me up from an enrichment class, sitting on a bench with my hands folded only to have a little old lady grab her purse and eye me. And trust me, at 10 I was a tiny thing.
I’ve done the “good little Black girl” tango for most of my life. I had tons of friends, but very few that came to my house.
My point… oh yeah… there is the ultra rude stranger good ole fashion racism, and there is the polite racism from people you know. It’s an unfortunate everyday thing. You just have to know which battle to jump into.
Ryan Kelsey Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 7:29 am

Kelly,

I don’t know if writing about this ever can make the pain subside. I am standing here on the train platform with tears in my eyes.

One thing is for sure. It is a story I will never forget and will certainly share with others. Last night, I was filling out my Census form with my wife. Although my wife was born in the U.S., my in-laws were Filipinos who became naturalized U.S. Citizens. My wife, Lisa can “pass” as not-Black. She can also “pass” as Mexican or Hawaiian. Our daughter is a zero (0 years old according to the form). She was recorded as White and Filipino. I realize that all of the zeros on this form accross the country were born under the Obama Presidency. How will the Census play out with this information? Will it make us a stronger people who embrace each other?

One of my greatest role models was my grandfather, Frank. He was very religious, very kind, and tragically used the n word. I had tears in my eyes when he told me the story of his Black co-worker, Bob Gant at the oil refinery. One night after a long shift, my grandfather was heading home. Btw, my grandfather was a laborer so he didn’t have any authority over others. He chatted with Bob as usual since they frequently worked midnights together. “You know, Frank,” Bob said one night. “You are the only person in this entire place who ever talks to me at all. Thank you.”. My grandfather explained that he felt that they he couldn’t see why not. Still, my grandfather didn’t seem to embrace that thought through and through. It is always difficult for me to reconcile this. Still, whenever someone says I remind them of my grandfather, a little voice inside tells me that I have to take even more responsibilty to do the right thing and ensure we stop hurting others. What can we possibly gain from that?

Kelly, you are one hell of a writer. You shook me up this morning. Thanks. I hear you loud and clear (loudly and clearly).
Andrea Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 7:31 am

What your dad must have felt and had to live with his entire life from that one minute…it makes my heart ache and tears fall just thinking about what his little face must have looked like. My best to him.

And for you, good for you for speaking up. I admit, I don’t do that when I hear these kinds of people…always out of fear. I do so admire you for your actions though. Maybe I can draw some strength from all this today.
Miss Britt Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 7:34 am

It continues BECAUSE we make apologies for them. BECAUSE we are afraid of being painted with the “overly sensitive liberal” brush. BECAUSE not enough people who are drawn closely into that circle because they are white don’t say “uhh… NO. This? Is absolutely not OK.”

Your dad’s story broke my heart.
Hilly Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 7:41 am

Jesus. This story made me tear up and I never even expected that to happen. I cannot imagine what it’s like to be so discounted and have such hugely offensive things said to me and about me, simply because I was born with a darker color of skin. It’s appalling to me that people continue to think they can get away with things just because their generation was raised with ignorance.

It’s like wearing a t-shirt that says, “Hi, I’m ignorant!”. Who wants to do that?
Average Jane Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 7:57 am

Thanks so much for sharing this.
Caffeinated Librarian Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 8:03 am

I’m really about your dad’s experience and your own from yesterday. I know I’ve told this story before but I’m not sure if I told it to you…

I was about 7 or 8 years old and I was sitting with my grandmother in a mall waiting on my parents. A man and woman walked by holding hands – one of them was black and the other white and I didn’t pay much attention to them. Then my grandmother nudged me and said “You would never do that to us, right?”

“Do what?” I asked, confused.

“Marry a black man,” she said.

I remember thinking a lot of different things at once: why would my marriage do anything to you? Shouldn’t I get to decide who I marry? And whoever I did marry I would of course love so why would that be a bad thing?

And I remember really not wanting to say what I knew she wanted to hear…but I did because she was my grandmother. Because I was a kid. Because the message was clear: agree with me and be loved or disagree with me and be rejected. I remember feeling awful afterwards, slimy and dirty like I’d betrayed myself – which is probably why I can remember it as clear as if it happened yesterday.

On the one hand, it’s bizarre to me that an adult would put a child in that position, but on the other it is not bizarre that my grandmother would say this to me. This is the same women who when I was three or four told me as I was in the bath that she loved me more than anyone, including my parents and my other grandmother who really didn’t love me. After she left, I went stomping into the main room to tell my parents and my other grandmother what she had said – to hear my mother tell the story I was like a tiny, soaking wet, angry avenger demanding to know why grandmother had told me something that obviously wasn’t true.

Anyway, what’s my point? I guess my point is that somewhere between 3 and 7 years old I learned that standing up for what you believed could have consequences, as did not standing up for what you believed. It is just a matter of which consequences you want to deal with. My point is also that for some people, like my grandmother, no amount of talking about the wrongness of all this or exposure to different people or holding her accountable for her actions would work because more than anything she needed to feel superior. Not superior for anything she’d done, or worked for, just superior for BEING. And anything that threatened that, whether it was an interracial couple or my parents love for me and my love for them, was an enemy to her sense of self and had to be fought. It’s a very sad existence to be at war with everything outside of yourself, every hour of every day for over 90 years, in order to uphold a lie. But there you are.

When people get old they don’t do a Disney Godmother twirl in a shower of glitter and turn into Perfect Grandparents or Perfect People. We all only become more ourselves with age.
Caffeinated Librarian Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 8:04 am

That should be “I’m really sorry…” Sorry about that.
Suebob Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 8:16 am

“Instead of doling out pardons for their racism let me suggest that they ought to be embarrassed that they’ve lived through all of that and still haven’t learned anything from it. ” Hell yeah.
Rita Arens Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 8:19 am

This post just blew me clean away.

I think it’s everyone’s responsibility to NOT excuse people’s ignorance or racism because they are of a different generation. I’ve never excused it in my family, and slowly over time, their opinions (or at least what they utter in my presence) have changed. It’s the younger generation’s responsibility to look the older generation in the eye and say, as many times as necessary, “That thinking is as ridiculous as saying the world is flat. You are wrong.”

It is hard to say that to someone you love. I’ve had to do it at least a hundred times to various members of my extended family. Not just about black people — about Latinos and Asian Americans and gay people. There are huge pockets of people who still believe white is right. They aren’t violent. They wouldn’t physically hurt anyone. But that doesn’t mean they still don’t believe they are better just because their skin is a different color.

I’m really glad you wrote this out, Kelly. We have to keep educating young and old if we’re ever going to have that thinking die out with the generations who so embraced it. Bravo.
briya Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 8:26 am

This is such a touching (and heartbreaking) story. On my father’s side we are the *only* black branch of a very white tree. I always find it facinating when I tell people my heritage and they look at me as though it’s impossible. Black people come in all spectrum of color and ALL people have a little bit of something in them.

You are more the norm than the racists. They’re the dying breed.
Mr Lady Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 8:28 am

People like us ARE taking over.

I feel so sorry for your grandfather, having to choose between hurting his child’s heart and not being able to feed him.

No human should have to make that choice.

And to all those motherfuckers who like to bitch about how “america” is being ruined, I’d remind them that the people they love to hate were forced here against their will a few hundred years ago so they could have tampons and cheap t-shirts. And if you want to put tampons and cheap tshirts above another human’s life, another human’s heart, well, that makes you the most unamerican person of all.
LoriHC Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 8:33 am

Suebob said exactly what I was going to say. Thanks for taking the time to write this — it’s worth passing around.
Karen Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 8:33 am

Bawling. Thank you for sharing this Kelly. You know I love you.
Deana Birks Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 8:38 am

Wow. What a powerful story. Racism is this country’s ugly legacy.

My own family has a mixed heritage, black, white, Cherokee, Chinese, Mexican. I thought this was normal for American families: I mean, any family that has been here long enough surely has intermarried with people who came here from different lands. Right?

I was wrong. My husband’s family is All White and has been All White since the dawn of creation, apparently. And my father-in-law makes some racist comments that everyone calls “off-color jokes.” It embarrasses people but they are afraid to tell him to stop (I’m not but everyone in the family thinks I’m too outspoken). I mean, the guy is in his 60’s, not his 90’s. It boggles my mind that someone would go on vacation to, say, Mexico, and come home complaining about all the “brown people.”

Race issues run deep in this country and when you’re from a multiracial family, it is shocking when people say racist things to you as though you’re in a club together and you will naturally agree. Nope, buddy, I don’t agree with what you’re saying about my dad/cousin/niece/grandfather.

I was in an interracial relationship in high school and college, and people would literally jump out at us on the street and at the mall to tell us what they thought. It was the 1990s and I was floored the first time it happened.

I will stop there because I’m getting all worked up.
slouchy Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 8:41 am

Damn, Kelly. Incredible post.

And in the midst of my outrage and sorrow, you made me laugh:

They’re nearly transparent.

How do you DO that?
Erica M Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 8:42 am

Great post, and I completely agree with Mr Lady’s perspective. Jobs that only white men could get paid far more than jobs that only black men could get, and absolutely nothing about that has changed. We sometimes sacrifice a small morality for larger issues such as supporting our families. Your heritage is rich and complicated, and each nuance should be celebrated as the historic mosaic it created for you.
Julie Pippert Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 8:43 am

My great grandmother passed for white instead of Native American. It gave her opportunities she never could have achieved otherwise. I’m glad for her but it makes me sick. She abandoned her family to do this. She abandoned her race. Her culture. Her beliefs. She thought she HAD too. She passed her self-hatred racism on down to her descendants. And I grew up hearing how lucky I was to be so white…unlike my cousins, who were pure brown.

My husband’s relatives passed for white too, so much so that African American became the dirty family secret that only got revealed a couple of years ago when his uncle did a DNA test and discovered he was African African American (in part, it’s all mongrel mix now). Pygmy, actually. Which stymied scientists who want to research the family of over 6 foot pygmies now. But I digress.

You know what I mean — that story about your dad.

A world that requires this? IS SO TOTALLY WRONG. It makes me sick.

Justification makes me sick too. Some parents abuse kids. That’s what the kids grow up with. But many kids STOP IT because it’s WRONG.

So is racism.

I live around this stuff all the time. People try to call it capitalism but it’s racism pure and simple. They just know better enough to try to hide it behind euphemisms. But we all know what they mean when they talk about immigration and illegal immigration, no ESL, white rights, and so forth.

Enough. The color of the skin is irrelevant other than as a consideration for culture and experience on that person’s part.

Like you I find the many hues a beautiful thing.

And people who fear that ought to feel ashamed. Not justified. (And how funny that my current post is about why shame is necessary.)
Supa Dupa Fresh Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 8:44 am

Wow. What an amazing — by which I mean, hard to believe, and obviously true — experience.

You might appreciate these cards, produced by the conceptual artist, Adrian Piper, who also “passes:” http://www.spencerart.ku.edu/~sma/images/print/radicalism/piper1.jpg

These cards have been inspiration for me speaking up more than once.

Thanks for telling it!

Supa
Miss Grace Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 8:44 am

I just tried to leave you the most muddled comment about my blue eyed blonde haired mixed baby.

Then I deleted it and sent it as a muddled email instead.
Because I love you.
Deana Birks Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 8:45 am

PS. Ha, I said I was going to stop there and then I thought of something else I just had to say. I was reading a book a few years ago that said that the reason so many Americans of Irish descent are part black or American Indian is because when the Irish first immigrated, they were not considered “white.” I already sorta knew that, but the book went into a lot of detail that I did not know. Of course I can’t remember what the book was called; that would be too convenient.
Bobbie Sue Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 8:45 am

Wow. Part of this I understand completely, the other part I can’t imagine. Both crush me.

I understand what it is like to be considered part of the Trusted Inner Circle. It has happened to me more times than I care to recall. At a small town beauty salon. At a crowded restaurant. In a hospital. And, in my grandparents’ home. The hateful words are spoken, and sometimes I say something just as hateful in return. Because my anger bubbles over, uncontainable.

I’m white. Although, if one were to do a DNA test, one would find that my blood, my people, are from every corner of the globe. But, that is not what makes me ineligible for the Inner Circle. It is my husband, who has beautiful dark skin, and whom I have loved for more than 20 years. It is only when he has not been at my side that I have ever been mistakenly Trusted.

The story about your father is difficult to read. It is one thing to be denied and marginalized by strangers; quite another to have this done by Loved Ones. I can’t imagine.

2010, but given what happened to some Members of Congress only yesterday, still relevant. Sadly, denial and rejection are still daily reminders to many people in this country, a country led by a black president, that the color of their skin makes all the difference in the world.
Deb on the Rocks Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 8:51 am

Amazing story, Kelly. Simply amazing, horrifying, important, never should be forgotten. And that you heard vile idiots makes me want to kick in heads. As a mother who doesn’t live with her partner, I often “pass” as straight, so I know a bit of what you mean, as I’ve been pulled in to homophobic conversations–and then been branded a secretive deviant who somehow tricked the bigots, as though I should wear a pink triangle so they could have been able to know not to be hateful to my face. Terrible, regardless of how you choose to handle it, what you are up for, what you can bear, what is safe to say. I know sometimes I want to think of racism as a generational issue, because there is the hope that it will diminish each year, but I know it is not. So, so ugly. Love to you, little Kelly.
Mindy Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 8:53 am

“But that’s their generation. That’s what they grew up with! They don’t know any better!” I have fought this to death in my family and I like to say that I have made a change. My mother uses that excuse for her mother and for herself but regardless they stopped saying crap that offended me when I started to speak up as a young teenager. Now I’m with a Chinese husband and they both couldn’t love him more.
I’m faced with an interesting future. We plan to adopt. I’d like to adopt from China, also the culture we partially celebrate in my house. People say I should go with Korea cause the process is faster… they think then we should just raise them with chinese culture cause thats what we have already. Bull! Lumping all asians together is crap and that would be a disservice to a child. We could do all three cultures as mom, dad and child’s lives and heritage but to lump child’s with dad and pretend would make me feel like a lesser person with an ignorant bias but trying to explain this is so difficult, people don’t get it.
Angela Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 8:54 am

Wow. I tell you every time I wander over here to your blog I read something that touches me deeply.

I decided a few years ago, when I had my first child and realized if I didn’t speak up that he would be getting messages I didn’t want him to get, that I would not allow hateful speech in my house or around myself or my child.

I’ve stuck with that, calling people on the carpet, including my husband, family and friends. Not just racist speech, but sexist speech and speech against homosexuals too.

But I haven’t faced that kind of speech yet, the stranger, who isn’t even talking to me. If they’re talking to me or someone with me, I know how to handle that. But random speech on the street…how to handle that without getting into a weird confrontation that who knows, could turn violent. You never know these days. I suppose I could just up the ante and turn up my own volume a bit and talk about how far we’ve come but how we obviously still have so far to go. Is that enough?

And yes, we are taking over. By “we” though I mean those of us who truly are living or trying to live Martin Luther King Jr’s dream. Judging folks by the content of their character rather than the color of their skin (or gender, or sexual orientations). I have long said, since I was a teen, that I can’t wait for the day when our genes are so mixed up that no one can assume by looking at you what nationality/culture/race you are. It appalled some in my family when I voice that back then, even my father if I remember it right, but I didn’t care. It just makes sense to me. And I long for it.
schmutzie Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 9:05 am

This really hit me, and I have to admit that I cried for your father as a little boy denied. I wonder how his father must have felt to do that. It must have been heartbreaking.
Kat1124 Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 9:10 am

My heart broke for your dad having to experience that, and for your family living with it.

But girl, we ARE taking over and the world is gooing to be better for it. My blended family and I see other families like us everywhere we go. I know those racists are still out there but they are becoming outnumbered by US.

I wrote a post similar to yours a while ago on my blog ig you want to read it. The title is “Drive-By Racism”. Keep on keepin’ on, great post.
dawn Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 9:19 am

Awesome post. I walk this line–not in any way like you do–I want to say that upfront. But my kids are black and I am white. I get the “those are your kids?!?” all the time from white folks who can’t imagine inviting children of color into their house, neighborhood, world. It is sad and frustrating, but then there are those who don’t care about our differences–I almost wrote don’t notice–but that is not true everyone notices skin color. EVERYONE.

It is sad that while we have come far–we haven’t. Thank you for this–it puts so much in perspective for me as the mother of black children. You rock.
parenting BY dummies Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 9:29 am

Holy awesome post Batman. I could go on for days as I am a black girl with “good hair” married to, a Mexican. Yes, they are currently the bane of the American society, right?! Funny thing is, he’s the kind people like to pretend don’t really exist. The kind that have been here pretty much since before all that Alamo business? Not the kind depicted on the road signs in the San Diego area (you know the ones, about border runners?!). It’s amazing the things we endure just because we happened to fall in love with each other on some college campus in California a whole butt load of years ago. Anyway, thanks for sharing your story, I won’t bore you with mine.
Julie @ The Mom Slant Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 9:30 am

Jesus. I had to read that part about five times to make sure I got it right. Jesus.

The assumptions. I’ve challenged people’s assumptions – that I’m racist, that I’m homophobic, that I’m a Bible-beating Christian. That I’m just like them.

Stories like yours make me want to challenge them even more loudly and vehemently. Thank you for inspiring me to be as courageous as you are.
Nora@White Hot Magik Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 9:43 am

Ironically I am sitting here at home sick today with Lets Make a Deal on and when Wayne Brady states that he is Irish, the crowd laughs. He says “What?”

I’d like to think I am not racist in the least, but as a white girl, I am constantly trying to identify where maybe I go wrong, don’t speak up. Thanks for the thoughtful post.
Katy Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 10:01 am

All I can say is keep telling the story. Keep saying what you’re saying. the more it’s said and talked about and discussed, the better because it is still an issue. I do think the tide is changing and I think it’s less acceptable at least publicly to behave that way. I hope that my child will grow up and not know what it is to judge someone by their skin color. Period.
Catherine Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 10:11 am

There have been days (make that years) that I’ve been ashamed of my whiteness – hopefully I realised early enough what a pointless exercise THAT is, and to do more productive things about fighting the evils of racism (in particular) and othering (in general). There’s always more to do.

But there’s always something that can be done – even by one person, with one person, if that’s all the opportunity that presents itself will allow. Your tweets yesterday, and this post today, were / are powerful and eloquent explanations of that.

You rock, Kelly. You’re my people. The ignorant racists with whom I share skin colour and racial mix (but nothing else)? They’re NOT my people. They disgust me.
RW Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 10:19 am

When our daughters were little the Mrs and I used to talk hypothetically from time to time about the future and their future and “what if” stuff. We decided when they were in grade school that if either one dated a black guy it didn’t matter. Native American, Chinese, I don’t know, Inuit, we said we’d practice what we preached – since we grew up in the Civil Rights era and saw real time what people went through just to be able to VOTE for cry eye – and that’s the name of that tune. Even though I’d say 95% of my family are truly just this side of white supremacists (and they wonder why we leave early on Thanksgiving), we brought our girls up to treat everyone one by one and to know that racism is not only bad, but also evil.

Here we were all ready to be the best parents the world has ever known and what do they bring home? White guys. Dammit.
ozma Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 10:55 am

What a story. What a sad story but what a mind-boggling story. Someone should make a short story with that scene it it because both sides are tragic. Your grandpa needed his job, your dad needed his father right then.

Racism has so many layers, and facets and dimensions and whatnot. Oh, how do we even get to the bottom of it. It’s hard even to say who is racist, who is not. We live in such a crazy racist stew. Every once in a while, I’m like IT’S ALL RACISM. EVERYTHING IS EXPLAINED BY RACISM. AND SLAVERY! All the American insanity and division. Our whole social world. I go overboard, I know. Are we all a little bit racist. It feels like a sickness and a virus that every American is exposed to. And if we don’t have the sickness, we have the antibodies.

Hah. The whitest damn grandchildren…they’re nearly transparent.

My daughter is nearly transparent but then man, does she tan, not burn. (She has no black ancestors to my knowledge…but seriously, there is such a thing as stealth swarthiness when it comes to transparent children.) Not like I’m trying to tan my child, it was an accident. Oh, nevermind.
maggie, dammit Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 11:23 am

I am so glad you wrote this out. So grateful.
Tricia Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 11:23 am

An audible gasp, a tug in the belly over the anguish/despair/anger your grandfather felt at having to feel the absolute need to deny his son, sadness for the wounded boy, your father. Anger and irresistible hatred for your grandfathers co-worker. A deep sigh for the world at large and my own learned prejudice that I fight, daily.
Zoeyjane Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 11:35 am

Your father’s story was heartbreaking. I just… don’t know how else to put it.

I’ve said many times that I’m lucky to live in Canada, where racism seems non-existent, where kids might separate into cliques but that it seems more due to language barriers than an intentional segregation. I’ve said that I’ve overheard (or been spoken to about) other mom’s worrying their kids would be in a ‘too-Asian’ classroom and would suffer for it – or worse, that moms wanted their kids to be kept in a Japanese-populated classroom, because ‘those Japanese raise smart kids and maybe mine could learn a thing or two about self-discipline and that fun paper folding’. But the thing that this post reminds me of most is the thing I shrug off the most.

I’m the whitest person you’ll ever meet. Seriously, photos of me in Chicago beside Maria made me look dead and her look dark-skinned. And our neighbourhood has a certain population who is known for sitting on the streets, near the liquor store, collecting change and bottles to return. Some of these Native people have been stomped on all of their lives, and they can’t walk down a mouthwash aisle without a security guard tailing them because apparently, everyone knows that Native people are drinkers, who will go through Listerine, cough syrup and paint thinner, as long as it means they get buzzed.

The frequency that I’ve been questioned or gawked at about my daughter and I talking to some of these neighbourhood residents astounds me. And the amount of times that someone’s assumed that I was ‘part of the club’ that thought hushed presumptions about Native alcoholism or pedophilia were okay has turned my stomach. And all I can say, literally, because these ideas are so ingrained in *some* Vancouver citizen’s minds, is “I’m nearly 50% native. I suggest that you shut the fuck up, thank you.”
Lu Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 12:01 pm

Powerful. If you are going to say anything, this is how you do it. You do it so well. I like that you bring this kind of thing up, because I am tired of this mess.
kim/hormone-colored days Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 12:53 pm

Well put and very powerful. I wonder if we will ever be in “post-racial” America. Sigh.
Melanie @ Mel, A Dramatic Mommy Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 1:04 pm

Woo! What a kick in the gut. I didn’t expect that. Thank you for telling us. It’s a heartbreaking story. These are the conversations that need to keep happening.
mrs.notouching Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 1:07 pm

My family is racist. 99% of my huge family is racist and this is one of the biggest reasons I don’t talk to them much. We are all as white as it gets – “at least 6 generations of pure white” my cousin says… The last dinner I had with them was pre-election when they said “America is not stupid there is no way they are going to let a black guy win!”… It makes me sad, it makes me angry, I feel incredibly helpless and guilty because I purposely isolate my daughter from them. She will grow up not knowing her cousins or even her grandparents… at least not very well.
I married a Russian guy… which is pretty bad too, but after 8 years of not talking to us finally my father gave us his blessing “at least he is not black!” he said and my heart broke into million peaces.
Issa Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 1:26 pm

I adore this post. I’d never been here before, but followed a link in my reader. ADORE this post.

I am the whitest Polish chick you could ever meet. But I come from a very mixed race family. I’m also from Los Angeles and grew up not really understanding that race was still an issue (I may also be a moron) until I went to college and met people from other states, who were hugely racist. I kept thinking, seriously in 1999? In 1999? For reals? Just because it’s quieter now, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Which just sucks.

I’m forgetting if I had a point now. Sorry. Anyway, loved your post and I’m glad you said something loud enough for them to notice and leave.
Luvvie Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 1:27 pm

I. AM. FLOORED! My heart just broke to pieces hearing that. Thanks sooo much for sharing that. Loved it!
No Princesses Here Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 1:54 pm

What a powerful post. Thank you so much for sharing your story. It breaks my heart that racism exists. Nothing other than a person’s character should matter. Ever. I HATE the “that’s how they were raised” excuse. For anything. That’s why God gave us a brain. We’re supposed to be capable of independent thought. Embarrassment and shame SHOULD replace such pardons.

I know you want to be considered “normal”, but based on the eloquence of this post, I think I’d have to go with “extraordinary.” There’s more floating around in my head somewhere, but I think Catherine (above) said it better than I could. Rock on.
ewe_are_here Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 1:55 pm

“I sincerely hate it when people excuse them with, “But that’s their generation. That’s what they grew up with! They don’t know any better!” Instead of doling out pardons for their racism let me suggest that they ought to be embarrassed that they’ve lived through all of that and still haven’t learned anything from it.”

Exactly, exactly, exactly. My grandmother was constantly ‘excused’ for her racist attitudes (and she claimed not to be, to boot!) with these explanations. My response was similar to yours: she’s old enough to have learned a little something about it and know better.

As for your dad, wow. Just wow. Heartbreaking

(Came over from Slouching Mom.)
Meeghan Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 3:38 pm

Hey Kelly, I remember when we took you guys camping with us when we were little, you and I were in line to ride a water slide and some kid called us Niggers. That was the first time I was ever called that. I remember it like yesterday though. I dated a guy in HS that had to break up with me because his parents said he couldn’t date me. Yeah, of course he could date ANYTHING else.
angie Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 4:21 pm

Wow. That is right out of this tragic movie–Imitation of Life. I almost forgot the name of that one.

The funny thing is, if you lived in South America, and were Latina, every shade of the rainbow would be normal, natural, acceptable. Here, even though it’s just life, there’s still such a stigma. I am so sad your father had to live through that. I am also sorry you have to put up with ignorant confidentialities.

I know what you mean about ‘taking over, whatever that means.’ Indeed.

btw, I have a little Irish in me too. The story has never been clear; either a great grandfather or a great great grandfather. In any case, it was a hit and run. . .
BOSSY Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 5:47 pm

This post makes Bossy all warm and fuzzy at the same time she is clutching her stomach in disgust at other people’s ignorance. You, the perfect combination, in race, skin tone, and writing. XOXO
mom101 Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 6:05 pm

This “passing” thing? It doesn’t just affect people of color. Jews deal with it. Lesbians deal with it. Anyone who is “other” but doesn’t look it has been privy to these horribly uncomfortable moments of ugh, when we’re let in on someone’s hate inadvertently.

I’m so glad you did share this Kelly. To tell your story. To bear witness. To remind us that we still have so very far to come. I would hope your grandfather would be proud that you could share it, and that maybe, it will do someone somewhere some good.
Maria Niles Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 6:19 pm

As I sit here nodding my head off in deep understanding and cosigning of everything you’ve written, I’ll simply say thank you for such amazing beauty and a piece of writing that gives lie to any excuse for ignorance or generational lack of understanding of the fact that racism is a choice.
Maria Niles Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 6:37 pm

Also @Deana Birks you might be thinking of “How The Irish Became White” Here is a link to a review that mentions some of what you discussed in your comment.

http://academic.udayton.edu/Race/01race/white13.htm
VDog Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 6:37 pm

Beautiful, honey. Beautiful. xoxo
Heidi Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 7:08 pm

Hey Kelly,
As you know, I was reading your tweets while this was happening. And it just sucked. Seems some of our progressive elected officials weren’t the only ones subjected to racism this weekend. Another shameful opportunity for people to learn about what it feels like to be subjected to utter hatred because of ignorance.

I have few regrets as a (single, like you) mom as my last 2 children prepare to go to college in 18 months. However, I am sorry that I did not choose to live in a diverse neighborhood. I truly believe that the only “cure” for bigotry is to live together and play together and work together. That is how our country will finally learn that we really do have more in common with each other as humans than we have between us as different races, religions, abilities, sexual preferences, etc. It breaks my heart that people had to make the choice between their jobs and acknowledging their own children. I can’t even imagine how many people have equally heartbreaking stories to tell. I can’t fix those stories. Hell, I can’t even begin to fix the awful people who caused those stories. But I can tell you that I have done my best to raise 3 of the next generation to be open to difference, to appreciate the richness of other people’s culture and to embrace diversity. They obviously can’t undo what you heard people say. But perhaps they can usher us closer to a time where those words are no longer said by anyone.
arin721 Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 7:12 pm

oh my goodness, but you’ve made me cry with the story about your dad. and i know *exactly* what you mean about people assuming their prejudices are your’s. it’s offensive.

thank you so much for sharing this…
Jenny, Bloggess Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 7:40 pm

If you were here I would tongue kiss you right now.

This is probably not an appropriate comment but you know what I mean.
Doobee Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 7:47 pm

Kelly, there’s nothing I can say that can approach what you’ve said and how you’ve said it (and the bonus stories of the commenters) so I’ll simply thank you. Thank you for sharing this story and writing it so well. We live in the same town and I hope to meet you someday soon to thank you and encourage you to do even more with your writing.
Deb
Azucar Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 8:05 pm

I get this. People start talking about Mexicans and those “Spanish,” about how they should just go back to their countries and why are they here taking our jobs? They’re so dirty, living off the system, drunk all the time, and will they PLEASE learn English?

And then I open my mouth in my perfectly white face that I inherited from my American father, brush off the dark hair I inherited from my immigrant Spanish mother, and tell them to go to Hell.
*lynne* Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 9:17 pm

Here’s a snapshot that’s seared into my brain: I’m very young, we’re in Paris on vacation, something’s not right, I think mother is panicking, she’s maybe trying to find someone’s number in the phonebooth, or is looking for a name/number in the phone directory, or is trying to place a call but it’s not getting through, I don’t know, but she’s panicking. A young black man comes up to us and asks politely if she needed some help, could he help us with something. She snaps at him “Go back where you came from!”.

Did she mean go back across the street? Africa? ??!

Ugh.

I have no idea what happened after that tho. Just thought I’d share that scene with you. It shocked me at 6 y.o. (or whatever age I was) so much so that I still have it in my head as a close-to-forty-year-old.

You know, I can understand not wanting to be approached by anyone you don’t know when in a foreign city and things are going wrong, but I’m *pretty* sure if a “regular” white Frenchman had done the approaching, my mother’s response wouldn’t have been the same.

… but she’s the white gal who married my brown Malay Malaysian father!?!

On another note: being a Malaysian/Swiss Malay(brown)/white mutt I’ve actually gone thru life the *opposite* of “passing for the majority race”: In Switzerland I was this dark brown child who stood out like a sore thumb in the tiny village my mother was from. In Malaysia I was this white girl who everyone gravitated towards when all I wanted to was to be judged for who I was, not how I looked. Perhaps that’s why I grew up and ended up being someone who judges (not the right word but I’m drawing a blank) others on their character, not how they look — after all, I hate it when people do that to me, so why should I tread others in a way I myself dislike?!

I warned ya I’d return to comment once I could form coherent thoughts. Hmm. Perhaps I should have waited a little longer? :p Hope all this makes sense to ya!

and finally: thanks for writing this post, and for sharing your father’s heartbreaking story. I had to reread that sentence because I couldn’t believe my eyes the first time. Ouch.
Aimee Greeblemonkey Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 10:21 pm

Oooh darlin. xoxo
Diana Lee Said,

March 22, 2010 @ 11:43 pm

I initially clicked on this post out of curiosity because my husband is Black Irish, too. What I found here is like a punch in the gut. Really brilliant writing on a deeply personal, loaded topic. Bravo.
Linda Jones Said,

March 23, 2010 @ 3:32 am

A wonderful and chilling post. Sorry, but there is no one in any corner who doesn’t know this behavior is wrong–no excuses.
Jonathan Said,

March 23, 2010 @ 6:35 am

Wonderful post. Thought provoking, and disarmingly candid. You’re a very talented writer, you know…
Faiqa Said,

March 23, 2010 @ 7:03 am

This was AMAZING, hon. I can, in many ways, identify, and I think I’ll write a post of my own about it.

And, what? The Pakistanis are taking over? I really wish someone had told me that. Apparently, I missed the internal Pakistanis only memo.
Jill Said,

March 23, 2010 @ 7:21 am

What a brilliant post. I am white as the day is long and grew up in a very racist, close-minded small town in the middle of a cornfield. People in my family regularly used the N-word, among other racial slurs, throughout my life. And there are some people who would think that’s enough to excuse racist behaviors and attitudes. I grew up around it, so obviously I would mirror it. But see, not only am I 37 years old — “young enough to know better” — I have a god damn mind of my own and chose to use it! Racism and bigotry are mindless, cowardly and pathetic. Inexcusable at any age.

p.s. If you look up small-minded in the thesaurus, bigoted is your second option.
Jozet at Halushki Said,

March 23, 2010 @ 7:57 am

Here’s what always gets me –

if you talk to anyone for more then ten minutes – okay, that’s hyperbole, but stick with me – eventually you will hear about some situation in which Who They Are is stereotyped, abused according to stereotype, out right hated, or denied. Yes, some atrocities stand out more than others for very good reasons, but on the other hand, all pain is personal as well as having a social component. We *should* understand if not the specifics, then at least recognize behavior which is inhumane. Maybe that’s a clumsy way to say things….anyway….

So here’s what I don’t get:

Why, when almost every human being carries some sort of pain that comes with being associated with some sort of perceived outsider group (for lack of a better term) – disabled family member, divorced, physically or sexually abused, race, gender identity, education, culture, the solitude and separation from society when a loved one dies, disease – why is that pain not bent toward empathizing with others in their pain instead of what seems to be stepping on top of them to make their pain seem less? It’s what schoolyard bullies do – children in pain, living in fear (the bullies, I’m talking about) who try to make others feel as bad or worse so that the bully can exorcise their own pains, weaknesses, fears.

It never works, of course. But why do people keep doing it?

Thank you for sharing this story. I can’t begin to imagine how difficult it was to tell. You did so beautifully.
Heather B. Said,

March 23, 2010 @ 10:04 am

My Grandmother, my maternal grandmother, who is dead now but could definitely pass. Anyway when my mother’s siblings, who are all far lighter than she is (my grandfather was about a shade darker than I am), and my mother used to go shopping my grandmother would sometimes make my mother stand outside of the store because she was “too dark”.

The sad part isn’t the story itself its that so many of us – and most African Americans (whereby I’m differentiating between ‘black’ and ‘African American’) have something else in them – can tell this story. That’s what makes me sigh.
lagata Said,

March 23, 2010 @ 10:35 am

My heart hurts reading this…. I almost think that racism was easier “back in the day” because it was so “in your face” – today – it is so better hidden, so much more subtle, very scary. (Obviously, it isn’t always hidden or subtle, as what happened to you. What I mean is in society as a whole).
Mateo Said,

March 23, 2010 @ 12:53 pm

Man I don’t even know where to begin. I follow you on twitter for your amusing often randomness which I enjoy, and also follow you here cause I enjoy your still open, and always honest thoughts and views. What I’ve come to realize is we can’t put to much stock in people which to me is sad. I’ve found myself in situations where it I’m at a true lost being brown skin Latino and some consider me black other Latino. That being said I (used to work in retail management) was helping a customer with a problem and told her to get what she wanted and I’d take care of her whenever she was ready, a few minutes later she showed up, and I excused her to where I was helping others and said that the she the lady was here early and I had to assist her. Everyone was fine except for one lady who in spanish went on with her friend about how I only helped the lady because she was black, she continued about how I some black people treat latinos like shit and other crap. When she got to me with attitude I casually ask her (in english) why she looked upset, for her to tell me in her best broken english that she was fine. I then switched to spanish for her to look at me with amazement, as I told her that no the lady was not my sister and I’m more related to her than anyone else in the place. She apologized which I told her, no need, cause I could care less for her and felt bad for her to not only judging me because the color or my skin but for spewing the hateful shit she had said to her friend, and then smiling in my face.

Will this ever change, many say yeah since OUR president is black, but honestly that just a pipe dream. We really need to open the lines of communication with each other, and though its sad, talk about it in school, not just a quick over view of slavery. We should not sugar coat race relations in the US. A Black President doesn’t mean it’s behind us.
Daniel Said,

March 23, 2010 @ 1:41 pm

Thanks for the great post Kelley! I’m colorblind, and have always wanted someone to explain to me what awful side effects of this skin color can be witnessed. What is the reason that people discriminate against people with a darker skin? This secret is well kept, nobody has ever been able to tell me, all I get are far fetched ideas that seem to be attempts to sidetrack my quest for knowledge. I have learned one difference though: some scientists think that a dark skin is better protected against dangerous ultraviolet (sun-)rays. A lighter skin, however, is better able to synthesize vitamin D from sun light (http://www.theroot.com/views/why-black-people-need-more-vitamin-d). I’m still clueless as to who to discriminate against and why
.
Yolanda Said,

March 23, 2010 @ 3:47 pm

I am struggling with what to say. Mainly because I feel this post from so many sides. I am a black woman married to a white man. My child’s skin is so light that even when she is tanned, you cannot tell that there is “coffee in her cream.” I think long and hard about her identity. How she will see herself. How others will perceive her.

I know what it is like being a milk-chocolate colored woman whose academic success often landed her as the only dark face in a classroom filled with white children. I know all the games that I play to make white people “comfortable.” I don’t say it with pride, but I like being liked. I play similar games when in rooms of black folk. Always terrified of one group or the other calling me a fraud, telling me I don’t belong. People from both groups have said it before. At least when I speak spanish, people just assume I am Columbian or Panamanian.

I think about my father’s mother, whose skin is pale and whose hair has always been bleached blond, and who has always given preference to her light-skinned children, over the dark ones. Yet she can’t stand to be called white or mistaken for being white. She identifies as black, but hates dark skin. My father has dark skin and she has little contact with our family.

And yes, I felt a deep ache when I read your story about your father. And as much as my heart ached for the little boy he was, it broke thinking about what it must have felt like to be your grandfather. The crushing weight of other’s expectations and the very real risk to his livelihood (perhaps even his life) if anyone found out his “secret.” And to save it all he has hurt his child’s heart.
Deana Birks Said,

March 23, 2010 @ 8:17 pm

@ Maria Niles, Thank you, that does sound like the same book
jenn Said,

March 23, 2010 @ 9:39 pm

oh, wow. thank you. I’m seriously out of words after reading this, but can’t *not* comment…
christine Said,

March 24, 2010 @ 5:08 am

there are so many comments here and what i have to say may have been said a million times before, but this resonates with me, my family, my experience.

i am not black, but rather the daughter of a dark skinned mexican woman and a white man. i am so light, in fact, that someone once asked my dad if my mother was the mexican nannie. there was no way, of course, that anyone could have conceived of the fact that she was his WIFE.

i’ve also sat there and listed to people condemn the “wetbacks” or the “dirty bean eaters” while they thought nothing of it. they thought that because of my light skin I “got it” some how.

i’ll never get it. never.
Leah Said,

March 24, 2010 @ 6:40 am

Kelly –

Found this in my Care2 email this morning. Great and heartfelt story. Thanks for sharing it with everyone. I’ve forwarded to my friends.
Becky Said,

March 24, 2010 @ 10:41 am

Great job on this one Kelly.

I was amused by the “transparent” comment, since I have in years past watched those boys swim in my pool with my summer tanned son. My son being way darker than them.

I know skin color and race are serious topics, but sometimes I just wonder what color of skin is it that we want to have? With all the stupid tanning booths it doesn’t seem many of us are happy in the skin God gave us.
Katherine Said,

March 24, 2010 @ 12:20 pm

I’m one of those ‘boomers’ and I’ve never understood the racist thing, either. One day in high school I drove a car full of my basketball team’s members home because it was freezing and I was the only one with a car. Next day a friend sidled up to me and asked whether I was turning into a n*-lover now. I was stunned, shocked, took me a whole minute to pry my jaw off the ground gobsmacked. Am I turning into a *what*!?

As far as I’m concerned the only difference between a person of color and my lily-white self is that I’m the one who needs the sunscreen. What in the world goes wrong with people that makes them think anything else? It’s crazy, I don’t get it.

And oh, your poor Dad, and your poor grandfather. What an awful thing for both of them.
Indigo Said,

March 24, 2010 @ 5:17 pm

I came by way of ‘Slouching Past 40′. I want to say, I can’t imagine what your father must of felt…sadly I can. Growing up with a hearing disability and as a halfbreed (derogative as can be). I understand all too well. My own mother used to make me stay out of the sun, so my skin would stay light afraid someone would know I was Indian in Redneck country.

When I first got Pickles my working dog for the deaf, I never imagined I would be made to feel the way I did growing up. My husband and I had stopped at a popular restaurant that had been recommended to us. Usually we ask for a corner table or a booth if that kind of seating is available. It makes it easier for Pickles to go under the table where she remains the whole meal. Many times the waitresses themselves are not aware she’s even there until we leave and walk by with her, she’s that quiet, that well behaved.

We were a little taken aback when we were led past several open booths into a back room. You could see the rest of the patrons through a glass door and the booths we had been led by from where we were sitting. It hit home – when other diners arrived and where seated in those same seats. We began to understand they didn’t want the dog in their restaurant. She was clean, brushed and more mannered than most kids. I didn’t choose to be deaf, she’s an extension of me, my working dog. My husband made sure to point this out, when we left rather loudly.

I wish I could say that was the last time that happened. It happens all too often. I remember telling Paul, why does this feel like segregation, why am I or my dog who has a legal right to be here being shut up in a back room? If we don’t get seated out of sight, we get treated coldly or rushed to get us out of there. Just as the color of your skin is who you are, my deafness is…me, a part of me that won’t change.

Racism still happens in it’s own way, even today. The difference is now I’m no longer quietly led to that back room, I’ll make a scene, object and refuse to be ostracized.

Thank you for sharing your story with heart and compassionate. (Hugs)Indigo
Mocha Momma » This Door Not Open Said,

March 24, 2010 @ 7:59 pm

[...] applies to so much and I just couldn’t get it out of my head after reading the comments on my writing about race. In fact, every time I even think about issues of race and realize the lengths we have to go for [...]
Jodi Said,

March 24, 2010 @ 8:54 pm

I happen to be of the baby boomer generation and have never been a racist—ever. However, I so related with you in reference to some of my redneck friends comments to me (actually just bar friends) It kills me every single time they pull me aside and smack me in the face with something racist and assume I feel the same way because I am white. Don’t they feel like an ass when I inform them that I don’t appreciate racism as I was married to a black man and my son is bi-racial. They always say “Oh, I didn’t know that! Well, what fuckin difference does it make whether you knew that or not! I am always shocked at the amount of racism that still remains in this country. I guess I shouldn’t be amazed, but it just baffles me! My son has experienced prejudice because of his skin color, and was often teased in school when the other kids would see me, they would tease him that he must be adopted or that I was not his real mother. Kids are cruel, but they grow up to be cruel adults! Just wanted to add my little two cents. Thanks for listening.
Tracy Said,

March 25, 2010 @ 7:32 am

I too, had family that passed for white. One uncle asked us to use the back door of his home when we visited so that his neighbors would think we were hired help.

It was mindblowing because my mother and her siblings looked as while as he did. Needless to say, we stopped visiting, but the emotional scars that denial can leave last forever. Your father had to endure a very painful event.

Yes, in a perfect world, we will be all mixed up. I think it is better that way.
Your husband is telling you to get off the damn computer. I’m fucking psychic. — TheBloggess.com Said,

March 29, 2010 @ 6:51 pm

[...] I love this woman. [...]
LS Said,

March 29, 2010 @ 8:12 pm

Wow, that hits you like a punch in the stomach. I haven’t witnessed much racism, so it’s hard to imagine sometimes how the world was just a generation or two ago. It was hard to picture my grandmother’s life, living on a farm during the depression and begging for food because she was constantly afraid she would starve to death. She literally had to eat dirt some days because that’s all she had, as strange as that sounds. I guess her parents thought they had to leave her on that farm the way your grandfather thought he had to protect his job at all costs for the sake of his family, and maybe both of them were right. It’s hard to decide what should have happened when the social, political and economic climates wouldn’t be recognizable today. Just thinking about it makes you appreciate everything you see around you.
suburbancorrespondent Said,

March 29, 2010 @ 8:13 pm

Check out this opinion piece. Towards the end he addresses the changing demographics. Things are changing faster in this country than ever before. Some people just aren’t aware of it yet. Or they don’t want to be aware of it. And already my kids grow up in a way more multi-ethnic society than I ever did. By the time they are grown-up, God willing, these things won’t be such huge issues any more.

Do you know the song Teach Your Children Well by Crosby, Stills, and Nash? Check it out.
jaspio Said,

March 30, 2010 @ 3:15 am

An incredibly moving story. It is so sad that there are still so many ignorant and hateful people in the world.

Thank goodness that there are still plenty of people who stand by you and judge not by appearance but rather by words and deeds.

Your words are inspiring and heartfelt and you’ve just found another subscriber.

Stay strong, stay proud.
Tame the Beast Said,

March 30, 2010 @ 6:20 am

I just found your blog through the Bloggess’ site, and I have to say that you are incredible. Issues of race and gender are two of my hot buttons. I come from a very conservative Republican family, so you can imagine how often I have to bite my tongue. The latest topic of debate has been how wonderful the urban ethnic neighborhoods used to be, and how racism became exponentially worse when people were forced to integrate with other races. For crying out loud! The original settlers were immigrants, and our own history books proudly describe the United States as a great melting pot. You can’t consider yourself a proud American, yet be hateful of every other culture that chose to make this country their home and gave up EVERYTHING in the exact same pursuit of freedom and opportunity. Many of our ancestors came here with absolutely nothing and had to build their way up from scratch, and for that alone we all deserve respect.

Thank you for writing with such intelligence, eloquence, and raw honesty. Your story makes my heart ache and soar at the same time.
My Baby Sweetness Said,

March 30, 2010 @ 9:09 am

Thank you so much for sharing this story. It’s amazing – I’m so glad I stumbled upon you.

Yeah, I get it. Your grandfather did what What he had to do. I’m horrified for your father, but a little horrified for your grandfather’s sake too as I have to imagine that that wasn’t done out of malice and he died a little inside doing it. Probably a lot.

It always amazes me how much racism still exists. I look at my daughter who is 13 months old and therefore not at all prejudiced yet and sometimes fear for what the world will throw at her. How do I protect her? Especially when I know that there are people in my own family who are… just from that generation.
Heather Barton Said,

March 30, 2010 @ 9:39 am

I loved your words and sympathize with that feeling of confusion on WHY anyone would be racist in todays world. My only experience with it was when I moved to Texas after marrying a military man based there. Being from Los Angeles area I grew up with every race and got along (or not) with people based on themselves not their race. So racism always confused me.

Then in Texas I got a temp job in a company. I was 1 of 4 temps. We were a mixed group of males and races and most of the regular employees were polite but kept to themselves. I got a little attention being 7months pregnant from the other ladies but mostly we were ignored.

Then one temp left and was replaced by a black woman. ALL the Black permanent employees came over to her, welcomed her and fawned all over her.

I called my best friend back in CA and whined, “Charlene! None of the Black girls will play with me!”
JesseJo Said,

March 30, 2010 @ 10:01 am

wow…my heart just broke a little with that story. I do understand what you’re saying though. My mom is gay and I live in hicksville Montana…it’s kinda rough sometimes. I just remind myself that not everyone feels that way…I certainly don’t. You and I and people like the ones that have commented and my friends and your friends and lots and lots of people aren’t like that. Lots of us were raised to value the content of a persons character instead of the color of their skin, their sexual orientation, their religion, and so on…my mother taught me those words “content of character”…she expressly taught me those words. They were words spoken by a man she admired. She didn’t see the color of his skin even when her family did. She was raised by racist people, but she herself managed not to be racist. It’s not “oh it’s their generation” it is HATE, plain and simple…Thank you for sharing.
Mary P (Barnmaven) Said,

March 30, 2010 @ 10:58 am

I found this post from The Bloggess’ weekly wrapup (seriously, Jenny, it’s TUESDAY already!) and I am really glad she linked it.

Its heartbreaking that we still see racism today. I’ve never understood the point of needing to feel superior to someone else because they look differently or speak a different language or have a different culture. My dad is a retired firefighter and was also a marine in his younger years. He has always lived the value of acceptance, and was given a lot of grief when they integrated the department in the 60’s. I remember him telling me about his trip to boot camp in Norfolk Virginia from Seattle. Once they had arrived in the deep south, he’d gotten off one bus and gotten on another. He went to sit in the back seat and was told by the driver that he could not sit there — because that’s where the “——s sit.” To this day he gets choked up about it, because like me, he cries when he is angry. I would think that years later we should be less ignorant as a society, but continue to be shocked and disappointed in the way some people choose to behave.

I don’t believe in excusing people for their racism because of their age, their culture, or for any reason. I believe people are making a choice to be ignorant despite the evidence right in front of them that every person has value, every person has the same right to dignity. I despair at what those kinds of people are teaching their children to think about other human beings.
Jess Said,

March 30, 2010 @ 11:18 am

The Bloggess sent me too. This is amazing. Thank you for sharing.
Mocha Momma Said,

March 30, 2010 @ 1:35 pm

For the record, I’m still taking in all these comments and reading the new ones.

That Bloggess has a big mouth and man, oh, man do I love her for it.
Eli Said,

March 30, 2010 @ 2:35 pm

Thanks for writing this. I just dealt with a similar situation in my life. I went to visit my boyfriends parents for the first time. I heard horrible racist shit the whole time about Mexicans and immigrants. My Mom is Mexican and my Dad is white. I felt like they were attacking my family. Thanks again for sharing.
Julie Said,

March 30, 2010 @ 4:50 pm

Here from The Bloggess -

Wow. Amazing story. Thanks for writing it. Here is my purge:

Grew up in Nebraska with a racist father whose family are Mennonites and the kindest, most inclusive people ever. He somehow ended up angry, racist, and alienated from them. My sister and I didn’t end up that way, but that doesn’t make it all good. My sorority in college about blew a gasket when I went to a frat house party with the one black guy in the house – a pre-law student, great guy, and everyone liked him – but Julie, he’s BLACK. We were just going as friends, but I have to admit that by the time the party rolled around, I did have that voice in the back of my head, “What are people thinking?” I’ve since become I’m ashamed I ever thought it. He was a really terrific guy, and I would’ve been lucky to date him.

AND just a couple of months ago, I was at a friend’s house for a dinner. There were about eight adults there, all white, and a bunch of kids. At one point, it was just the host couple and me in the room, and the husband said, “You have to hear “Ryan’s” jokes – you’ll think they’re funny.” He calls in this boy. The boy, who was NOT their son, came into the room and, with their encouragement, started telling racist jokes. Apparently, since I write a sort-of funny blog, the husband thought I would get a kick out of it. I looked at the kid in disbelief, and then said, “Wow. I can’t listen to any more.” and got up and left the room. The couple was taken aback. The boy, who is 13, nervously came into the kitchen after me and said, “I’m sorry, I’m really a good kid.” I said, “I know you are.” He knew it was wrong, he knew he had offended me, and he felt bad. But my relationship with the host couple is forever changed. I was shocked and appalled that people today, FRIENDS, would think that way, and ENCOURAGE a child to do that. But did I verbally call them on it? Not yet. It’s one thing to leave the room. The right thing to do is to say, out loud, “You are racists”. How terribly sad.
Gurukarm (@karma_musings) Said,

March 31, 2010 @ 7:45 am

So many stories…

I grew up in central western New York State, a very rural and agricultural area. Every fall the migrant workers would come to harvest the potato crops on the local farms. The “housing” they were offered was slightly better than your average pig pen. Usually little or no running water, no toilets (outhouses, I think), certainly no showers.

Local people referred to the workers as “tran-shunts” (the word transient, pronounced in a very ugly, disdainful way). And held them responsible for smelling bad, for their body odor. After they worked in the sun all day and had nowhere to bathe or shower, even to rudimentarily wash up at night.

You know, of course, nearly all of the workers were black, brought by the crew leaders in buses from the South – some may have been Latino. Their children had to attend school, by law, for the month or so they were in the area, and they were usually crammed into the school gymnasium at makeshift desks. During that time we couldn’t have our regular phys-ed activities (gasp! poor us!) and of course were encouraged by parents and teachers to think we should blame those kids.

I can still hear the sound of that word and remember the smell of all those little bodies, all these decades later. With a very great deal of shame.

I always hope I would be brave enough to confront those attitudes, as you did, if (when!) I heard them. Thank you!
Rhonda Said,

March 31, 2010 @ 8:01 am

This was an amazing post!
One of The Guys Said,

March 31, 2010 @ 8:38 am

That is a sad story about your Grandpa. Wow! But I understand it in some ways. But to have to make that choice between your dignity and your job?! Wow!!! And what do you say to your kid later?

This country seems to have progressed, but when I hear people talk like the way you describe those people talking I’m shocked. Then I think, maybe we’re just the same as we’ve always been. You handled it well!

My father is Indian.(From the country) I haven’t experienced much racism in my life, even though I’m darker. But one time when I was in Florida with my Irish and totally white girlfriend, I got pulled over because I looked like some guys who had stolen a car or something. The cop actually said to me, “We pulled you over because you look like the guys….etc.” Um, excuse me, but isn’t that profiling MF!!

He let us go and we were both real quiet. Finally my girlfriend said, “I would never have believed it if I hadn’t heard it with my own ears.

Nicely written post by the way.
ericka @ alabastercow Said,

March 31, 2010 @ 9:36 am

i just got wind of your blog while reading the blog clean shavings. i’m so happy to have found you! you’re an extremely good writer and i think this post is very pertinent.

i can’t tell you how many times i’ve been “a part” of conversations with a racist rant. everyone thinks i’m the whitest white girl there is (because, well, i too am transparent lol) but i’m a 1/4 mexican and when people talk that way it makes my skin crawl. it’s a horrible thing, this hatred. and i wish people would just stop it.

plus, in my opinion, there’s no one creepier than the good looking, quiet white guy. who knows what kind of crap is going down in that spooky basement of his
Nicole Said,

March 31, 2010 @ 12:38 pm

since you commented you were still reading comments (here from bloggess too) just wanted to add my opinion of what a wonderful post this is. I hope people like you are taking over. It bugs me that people make excuses as it was “their generation.” It also bugs me when people assume there is no more racism because we have a black president. We have to talk about it, we have to educate our kids, and sadly they will likely have to educate theirs too.
angelynn Said,

March 31, 2010 @ 10:20 pm

This was both crushing and uplifting to read. Even though I know better it still floors me when biggots come seething out of the shadows. I’m white and my husband is mixed (Black/White/Cuban/Puerto Rican/Native American). His skin is dark, mine is light. We have two sons. We’ve encountered racism in my family too. People I thought I knew. What’s funny is that my dad’s wife is Chinese, my brother is gay, and in our case too, the problem was my husband’s skin. Thank you for talking about this, for bringing the conversation to so many. There’s real power in that.
Nanna Said,

April 2, 2010 @ 9:21 am

Here via miss britt. Kelly, this is an a-ma-zing post. Thank you for posting it. I think all of us over a certain age could tell some stories. I, also, wish I could hug that little boy that was your dad.
the weirdgirl Said,

April 2, 2010 @ 2:11 pm

This hits home because I have been filling out too many government forms lately. I am half Hispanic and half white but I’m very fair. I’ve heard the comments; seen friends treated differently (I was expected to go college and they were expected to have babies. What?!); I’ve gotten slack from my community because I am not dark enough. In general, I’ve been told that my experience doesn’t count because I am too light. But what’s always driven me nuts are the forms… Hispanic (Not White) or White/Not Hispanic. Those are the choices. In California where it is so diverse. In 2010.

There are SO MANY of us of mixed ancestry, it’s time our country caught up. We can’t all be put in the boxes they’ve been using for 40 years.
Mandy Said,

April 3, 2010 @ 9:52 am

First time reader. What a great post.

Living in Vancouver, BC, Canada, we are in the most ethnically diverse Canadian city/area outside of Toronto. A recent news story on tv/radio was that in the year 20whatever (maybe 2020?) white people will no longer be the majority in our Lower Mainland. I almost spat out my coffee. I’m sorry, but that’s news? That’s worth reporting? Hello, what are you trying to imply by that? We should roll up camp and head to some small town where we can be assured that we are surrounded by white faces?! I’ve always been proud to be Canadian, but honestly, at that moment, I had to shake my head and wonder. Because really, what are we saying if we are concerned about “being outnumbered”. *sigh*

(ps Have you ever read Nora Zeale Hurst’s Quicksand and Passing? Excellent, moving novellas.)
Ashley, the Accidental Olympian Said,

April 3, 2010 @ 10:27 am

The line where your Grandfather says he’s never seen his son before in his life brought tears to my eyes.

Sometimes it feels like we should be able to say things like, “Look how far we’ve come,” when in reality the amount of people in this world who can remember hateful times like that in clear and vivid detail remind me how fresh these wounds still remain.

Thank you for telling your story.
kris Said,

April 4, 2010 @ 6:54 am

Beautiful post. Oh, how far I like to think we have come. As a mother of three mixed children, I have been asked if I am the nanny by strangers. my respond is not always the nicest. But I can tell you nothing gives me greater joy than picking up my first grade daughter and seeing all those beautiful mixed faces.
De Smith Said,

April 5, 2010 @ 11:53 pm

“It’s their generation, they don’t know any better” is *not* true. They *do* know better. My parents are both in their 70’s. I and my brother were raised (coincidentally or on purpose?) in an all-white town, but my dad had co-workers/aquaintences of all races and my mother had friends who were different races. Until I was 16, I had no clue they were racist-apparently, 16 was the “right” age that my dad could “let me into the club”.

We were fishing, as we often did, on the company lake in a row boat. We passed a guy fishing from shore and he and my dad exchanged a greeting and a few comments. My dad rowed a bit, then said something about him being “one of those lazy Ones the company *has* to hire and because there’s a union, can’t fire”. As I got older, comments like that increased. My mother also made racist comments as I got older. I was completely baffled-still am to some degree. I still can’t understand why it was only wrong when I was young, but it is “okay” (in their twisted way of thinking) now that I’m an adult…

Shortly after my oldest was born (I was 33 or 34), my dad started relating racist jokes to my husband and I! At first, I just looked away, unsmiling. Then, I tried walking out of the room. Finally, I looked my dad square in the eye and said, “That’s not funny.” and paused to make sure he knew I was dead serious, then walked away. I haven’t heard a racist joke and very, very few comments since then.

My husband grew up in a very vocally racist family. He can also pass as a redneck, appearance-wise, especially when he was doing factory work. He often got that “inner circle of trust” crap and at one place, it was horrible and he complained repeatedly to the management (to which his supervisor questioned if he was a “n___er-lover”!!!) to no avail. Finally, he started either walking away once there was even a hint of it going in a racist direction or saying, “You’ve never met my wife, then? Did I tell you she’s black?” (I’m not, but he wasn’t actually saying I *was*, just asking a question-and it sure got people to shut up and got them thinking.)

Thank you for sharing your story. I plan on sharing it with my husband and 2 young sons tomorrow. I, too, hope that some day we live in a world where biggotry is extinct, but I also believe that we need to let our children know all the details of the atrocities of the past, so they know to watch out for them and not let them happen again.
Cheryl Malaguti Said,

April 6, 2010 @ 2:31 am

What a powerful and gut-wrenching post!

I live in the same county as the golf Mecca, Pinehurst, NC; lots of retirees, lots from up North. Since I’m a native, I get “assumed to be part of the club” a lot. Older people especially will say the most horrible racist things about African Americans and Mexicans, as well as nasty homophobic things, expecting that I’ll giggle and join right in. So I get that in addition to those *actual” Southern bigots who also figure I’m “part of the club”.

My parents were both raised in 40s-50s rural South in very racist homes. They both did their best to ensure that my brother and I did not receive the same upbringing, that we valued every person on the basis of their character and deeds, not their outward appearance. I am thankful that they rose above what they were taught and gave us better.
Amy L Said,

April 10, 2010 @ 9:56 am

Hey folks using the term “Black Irish!” That term actually means something very specific: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_Irish

If you call yourself “Black Irish”, people will think you mean
1. That you are using the term for its traditional meaning (iow, you are white)
2. That you are using the term in a new way to mean you are part white, part African, NOT American, and living (or have citizenship) in Ireland.

It took me about twenty minutes to figure out that MM is American and living in the States. I actually thought at first the racists she was complaining about were Irish people who didn’t want to be colonized.
Mocha Momma Said,

April 13, 2010 @ 3:58 pm

Amy, most of the readers here already understood me to be American and this post was linked to several times with some similar comments like yours. I know what Black Irish truly means, but I was simply using some literary license here and pairing it with a line from a song by James Brown.

Hopefully, after you read the entire post there were other things that stayed with you besides the title. Because that was way back there in the beginning.
veryanniemary Said,

April 14, 2010 @ 7:17 pm

As far as I am aware neither my parents nor my grandparents ever had a racist thought (at least not out loud). I have children of my own now and my eldest girl had many friends of all colors and both sexes as a pre-school kid. It never occurred to me that I had to teach her that racism was bad. In fact, I never talked to her about it at all….then we moved to Atlanta (can you see where this is going?). While I was busy not teaching her, the kids next door were giving her quite the education. One day she calmly announced that she didn’t like a particular little boy in her kindergarten class and I asked her why. I nearly fell over when she replied ‘because he’s black’. We had a really long talk that night. She is in 5th grade now and is still friends with anyone she feels a connection with regardless of sex or race (her best friend is a Moslem whose parents came from Pakistan). This could so easily have turned out to be a story with a bad ending.
Cold Spaghetti :: Just Posts: March 2010 Said,

April 15, 2010 @ 8:38 am

[...] Mocha Momma with I’m Black Irish and I’m Proud [...]
The March Just Posts « collecting tokens Said,

April 15, 2010 @ 8:42 am

[...] Mocha Momma with I’m Black Irish and I’m Proud [...]
andrew s Said,

May 15, 2010 @ 4:25 am

I thought you guy’s in the States had solved your racism problems and were front runners to a perfect, fair, just society of whom everyone else follows.

Seems asthough the British racists have poisioned the minds of the Americans.
Mocha Momma » Awards and Whatnot Said,

July 19, 2010 @ 5:21 pm

[...] blog entry that was nominated was “I’m Black Irish and I’m Proud” and it might be weird to say, but it’s one of my favorite posts that I’ve written and [...]
Kelly @ The Startup Wife Said,

July 19, 2010 @ 5:28 pm

Thank you for posting this. I’m half Chinese, and I’m all too familiar with the concept of ‘passing.’ The history of Chinese-Americans is in some ways very different than the history of African-Americans in the States, obviously, but I recognized some glimpses of my own family’s story in what you wrote.

But how heartbreaking. How devastating for your young father. My heart breaks.

I just posted about something kind of similar (a visit with a racist great-uncle last week: http://tinyurl.com/27m4h86).

Wonderful post. Thank you.
Mo Said,

July 25, 2010 @ 6:53 am

This is a thought provoking post. Thanks for sharing your story. I’m Irish, probably transparent white, as you describe your children. Should that fact alone implicate me in the racist agenda? Certainly not! But, my new neighbor must think it does. In telling a story the other day, he referred to one of his co-workers as “the colored guy” and then another as “that damn Hassidic.” What?! I guess he doesn’t care that I have a black sister-in-law, an Asian Hawaiian sister-in-law and a Jewish brother-in-law. And, I love them all. Won’t my neighbor be surprised when I say, “guess who’s coming to dinner?!”
Single Mom Seeking Said,

August 15, 2010 @ 4:26 pm

Thank you for writing this honest post. I found you via BlogHer, and I’m so glad I did. I’m the single mom to a biracial daughter (I’m white — Irish/Polish — and her father is black). It has been quite a journey so far with my amazing kid — both in my family, and in society.
Mocha Momma » New York Stories Said,

August 18, 2010 @ 6:48 am

[...] Kati Sellers, an artist whose work, I believe is found at this website, chose my piece entitled “I’m Black Irish and I’m Proud” to watercolor paint. Here is one of [...]
Annie Said,

August 18, 2010 @ 11:46 am

So, I found you on Twitter and then just checked out your site. I then saw this post and I am so happy I did because I saw that painting at BlogHer and it moved me even though I didn’t know the backstory at the time.

As everyone has already said, that story is shocking and heart wrenching. It is also something people should hear and hold onto as they go on with their lives. Thank you for taking a private, family story and sharing it with the world. This is one that can make a difference.

And as far as being let into the secret racist circle because you pass, I am white myself but still have a moment of shock every time this happens to me, as well. I once went on a date with a guy from Ireland. I taught in Baltimore at the time and as we were driving through town at one point he said “Lock your door, we are going through n***er-town.” I told him he was a jacka** and to take me home immediately. He was in disbelief and told me I was making him feel “like a monster or something.” I told him his feelings were correct-he was a monster. He told me that all white people feel the same way he does, whether they are honest about it or not. I told him he was wrong and kept arguing back and forth, as he drove me home.

Looking back, I guess that could have gone much worse since I was alone in a car with an angry racist and started a fight with him, but thankfully, he did take me home.

I am now the mom of two beautiful, bi-racial boys and I am actually thankful that The World’s Worst Date happened to me. The people I surround myself with daily are very open-minded, but it is important to remember that there are still plenty of people like that guy out there. I need to teach my children to look for the best in people, but also to be prepared to encounter some hateful, angry people during their lives. I hate that this is the reality, but as parents, especially, we need to be aware and realistic.

And thankfully, you are right: Children of mixed backgrounds are going to take over this country soon enough…in a good way.
Heidi Said,

August 25, 2010 @ 7:46 pm

Amen to the first part!

And, thanks for sharing that story. It touched me deeply.

I’m fairly new to your blog and have loved reading your writings about skin color and racism. It’s hard to find someone who talks about these things, and when I find them, they are usually ranting and raging. You speak with passion and logic which I love and find very different from most others who dare to talk about these real issues.

Thank you very much.

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