White People
[Written under the influence]
I just had a recent disturbing and confusing encounter with a white man. Less than four hours ago, I was in the airport returning from Lagos, Nigeria. But since that time, I agreed to meet up with some friends to celebrate my return. I met this guy from New Orleans, Matt I think, who has really left me in a confused state.
I was intending to come out for a beer or maybe two, but here I am recording the events several drinks later. Matt is a friend of a new coworker of mine name Lane. Lane is an ex-Army guy who evidently was awesome in Iraq. Matt was telling me all the heroic tales of Lane and how every member of Lane’s family was preposterously successful. In short, Matt was telling me to ride the coattails of Lane all the way to the top. I was enjoying the gossip and was truly impressed by Matt’s recounting of Lane’s accomplishments. But then the conversation changed.
‘Can I be perfectly blunt with you,’ asks Matt. Which automatically raised my alarm system. Very seldom does a white guy ask if he can be blunt, and then something good follows. But Matt ends up saying, ‘You know, I am just proud to see an African American doing what your doing, working for one of the best companies, ExxonMobil, and being successful.’ He went on to explain how where he comes from, New Orleans, you don’t see to many successful black folks. I told him that I took no offense to his bluntness and that I really appreciated the realness of his statement. For the next twenty minutes we talked about race, and honestly, this Matt fellow was the most understanding of white guy I had ever encountered. He attributed this to his sociology major, but the guy was on point. He recognized the double sided problem of black folks, the governmental and historical system that has and is working against them as well the need for black folks to step their game up. We went from supporting Barack Obama to agreeing the real problem with people was ignorance. A perfectly candid example was given by Matt, ‘If my mother would have wanted to marry a black man, my grandfather would have put a shotgun to his chest. If my sister wanted to marry a black guy, my parents would be pissed but would eventually get over it. And if my daughter (he has a three year old) wants to marry a black guy, I would just make sure he is a good Christian guy, and I would give my blessing.’ Matt said that this evolution is what gave him hope in the world.
Matt appeared to be the realest white guy I had ever met, and I let him know that. I told him that talking to him about race issues was similar to talking to most educated black folks about the issues, neither blaming things completely on society nor on black themselves. We were real close then. But then we went into real dangerous waters. He asked me if I had seen the news today, about how the NAACP had decided to bury the N-word. I told him I had not seen the news today, but that the NAACP ceremony had happened months ago. Regardless, he went on to ask me what I thought of the N-word. I told him that I don’t appreciate anyone using it in my presence, especially white people because they cannot excuse the implications of racism. Following the I-don’t-see-color line to the dot, Matt proclaimed that a word is a word. I had to remind him that a words have histories and memories, and he seemed to relent. We talked more about race and stuff and how he sympathized with the black man.
Matt by this point was drunk, and had ordered me perhaps my second round of drinks. He was telling me how good it was to talk to someone about these issues, and that he really did love me ‘bro’, and what not. I returned the sentiment, he had convinced me that he was a sincere guy. After a few words of general talk, we returned back to the N-word. He said, ‘I want to be completely honest. Whether you know this or not, white people use nigga all the time. What up my nigga, this. And what up my nigga, that. We don’t really see it as that big a deal’. Beginning to feel uncomfortable, but still bolstered by the strong foundation we had set, I took Matt’s statements at face value. He was simple telling me that white people make a joke of the n-word. That I thought of us as neither bad nor good. Good because they seemed to really be oblivious to the negative connotations of the word, and bad because they were oblivious to the negative connotations of the word. Matt in this explanation switched from the term ‘N-word’ to ‘nigga’. He asked me if it was ok if he used it when describing his situation. I told him, I personally have a thick skin to the term, and would not mind him using it only because I had decided he meant no libel by it.
That was a mistake. As he ordered more drinks and dived deeper into his New Orleans social group’s use of the word, he took to using the word in the present tense. ‘You know you my nigga’, he would say… quickly followed by, you know I don’t mean anything by it. I told him that normally I would take huge offense to it, but really the last twenty minutes of talking had convinced me that the word meant nothing more than a weird sensitivity to him. He certainly did not mean anything by it, so I told him ‘I’m your nigga, only if you are mine as well.’ To which he joyfully agreed. This was about the time where I thought I should leave, but Matt was on a role. After more conversation and perhaps one more drink, Matt ordered for two shots of Patron. I insisted that I pay, but he said, ‘I am paying for these, bitch.’ Now to be honest, I am not schooled on white boy protocols or drunken etiquette. As far as I have noticed, the most offensive the comment the better. So I took the ‘bitch’ statement in stride. After the Patron shots came, he went on a rant that included such comments as ‘you my nigga, and I’m your nigga too’. That was comment number one of white folks getting too familiar. Then seeming to test his limits came, ‘you my ugly black brother’ or something like that. It was only then that I came to the conclusion that he had buttered me up for just this moment. He had spewed his equality message, and social understanding just so he could feel familiar enough to insult me (without seeming to insult).
It was then that my memory reverted to 8th grade when a Chinese kid used the N-word in my presence. Honestly, I don’t remember the kid saying the word, or even the context in which he said it. What I remember was the reaction of another black kid, Freddrick Peterbark, when I told him the story. I told him that [Chinese kid] used the word, and I just walked away from him, convinced he was a jerk. Fred reprimanded me for not beating his ass, saying that was the right response to the slur. I remember being somewhat torn, because my natural reaction was to label the kid a jerk and move on, while the seeming black thing to do was whoop ass. So here I was again. I was convinced that this drunk white guy had descended into the meaningless realm of base insults, but did not feel any urge of violence towards him. Instead, the only thing I wanted from him was yet another drink. Before I had felt bad about his drink buying, (he had no job as far as I could tell) but after his pointless slurs, I insisted that he order more drinks. The beauty of drunks is that they don’t think straight. He ordered two more drinks, and I put mine on an empty table and walked off. That was what made me feel better.
But after I walked away, I had a whole bunch of questions. I do not feel that Matt was a closet racist, but rather that he felt some sort of latent desire to say the un-utter able. To speak the unspeakable, to break the rules of taboo. Here was a black guy telling him that he understood the black plight, and the temptation was too great to resist. He had to take it to the next level and say those things that only black folks or the truly accepted white’s can say. As a graduate of Morehouse College, I have come to terms with certain things. First, the word Nigga is embedded in the culture unfortunately, and also that non-blacks (even at Morehouse) would use the word in a non-controversial way. Matt wanted to ascend to that level of acceptance by testing these phrases out on me, but curiosity was not behind his request, not sincerity. As much as I hate the word, Nigga, I recognize the facts that it can be used by blacks and non-blacks alike as a word of brotherhood. This guy just wanted to use it, not with any meaning behind the word, as a test of his limits. This really has hurt my image of white folks. Here was a guy that truly seemed to sympathize with the struggle of blacks in New Orleans and around the country, but did not really understand his role. He thought that he could circumvent the history of black perception on words by just having sympathy with their current situation. To me that proved he was as ignorant (on race relations) as most other white folks I encounter.
Instead of getting violent, or argumentative, the best I could do was contribute to his high credit card bill for the night. Which made me feel like I was for sale. I essentially said, I will tolerate your belittlement as long as I am getting what I want from you. That seemed like the best course of action, but maybe I should have just told him off. He would have lost nothing then.
This whole situation made me miss Africa (Nigeria specifically), where this issue did not come into play so much. But it also made me think of how Nigeria and whites interact. It was essentially the same way as my situation at the bar. The western (white) companies come in, emphasize their understanding of the Nigerian situation, and then secretly practice superior sentiments. Nigerian get theirs by letting the whites think they are superior. They let the whites work twice as hard at the job, bring in twice the money for the investment, and at the same time let the white companies pay the vast majority of profits to the Nigerian people. Essentially, Nigeria puts up with the western superiority complex to maximize what it is that they want. But is that temporary surrender of respect too much? I don’t know.
What I do know is that the general white population is on notice. This Matt guy made me think that at least some of you understand, but that turned out to be a farce. Now my hope in a shared dream amongst all races is stuck, yet again, in the sand.
I just had a recent disturbing and confusing encounter with a white man. Less than four hours ago, I was in the airport returning from Lagos, Nigeria. But since that time, I agreed to meet up with some friends to celebrate my return. I met this guy from New Orleans, Matt I think, who has really left me in a confused state.
I was intending to come out for a beer or maybe two, but here I am recording the events several drinks later. Matt is a friend of a new coworker of mine name Lane. Lane is an ex-Army guy who evidently was awesome in Iraq. Matt was telling me all the heroic tales of Lane and how every member of Lane’s family was preposterously successful. In short, Matt was telling me to ride the coattails of Lane all the way to the top. I was enjoying the gossip and was truly impressed by Matt’s recounting of Lane’s accomplishments. But then the conversation changed.
‘Can I be perfectly blunt with you,’ asks Matt. Which automatically raised my alarm system. Very seldom does a white guy ask if he can be blunt, and then something good follows. But Matt ends up saying, ‘You know, I am just proud to see an African American doing what your doing, working for one of the best companies, ExxonMobil, and being successful.’ He went on to explain how where he comes from, New Orleans, you don’t see to many successful black folks. I told him that I took no offense to his bluntness and that I really appreciated the realness of his statement. For the next twenty minutes we talked about race, and honestly, this Matt fellow was the most understanding of white guy I had ever encountered. He attributed this to his sociology major, but the guy was on point. He recognized the double sided problem of black folks, the governmental and historical system that has and is working against them as well the need for black folks to step their game up. We went from supporting Barack Obama to agreeing the real problem with people was ignorance. A perfectly candid example was given by Matt, ‘If my mother would have wanted to marry a black man, my grandfather would have put a shotgun to his chest. If my sister wanted to marry a black guy, my parents would be pissed but would eventually get over it. And if my daughter (he has a three year old) wants to marry a black guy, I would just make sure he is a good Christian guy, and I would give my blessing.’ Matt said that this evolution is what gave him hope in the world.
Matt appeared to be the realest white guy I had ever met, and I let him know that. I told him that talking to him about race issues was similar to talking to most educated black folks about the issues, neither blaming things completely on society nor on black themselves. We were real close then. But then we went into real dangerous waters. He asked me if I had seen the news today, about how the NAACP had decided to bury the N-word. I told him I had not seen the news today, but that the NAACP ceremony had happened months ago. Regardless, he went on to ask me what I thought of the N-word. I told him that I don’t appreciate anyone using it in my presence, especially white people because they cannot excuse the implications of racism. Following the I-don’t-see-color line to the dot, Matt proclaimed that a word is a word. I had to remind him that a words have histories and memories, and he seemed to relent. We talked more about race and stuff and how he sympathized with the black man.
Matt by this point was drunk, and had ordered me perhaps my second round of drinks. He was telling me how good it was to talk to someone about these issues, and that he really did love me ‘bro’, and what not. I returned the sentiment, he had convinced me that he was a sincere guy. After a few words of general talk, we returned back to the N-word. He said, ‘I want to be completely honest. Whether you know this or not, white people use nigga all the time. What up my nigga, this. And what up my nigga, that. We don’t really see it as that big a deal’. Beginning to feel uncomfortable, but still bolstered by the strong foundation we had set, I took Matt’s statements at face value. He was simple telling me that white people make a joke of the n-word. That I thought of us as neither bad nor good. Good because they seemed to really be oblivious to the negative connotations of the word, and bad because they were oblivious to the negative connotations of the word. Matt in this explanation switched from the term ‘N-word’ to ‘nigga’. He asked me if it was ok if he used it when describing his situation. I told him, I personally have a thick skin to the term, and would not mind him using it only because I had decided he meant no libel by it.
That was a mistake. As he ordered more drinks and dived deeper into his New Orleans social group’s use of the word, he took to using the word in the present tense. ‘You know you my nigga’, he would say… quickly followed by, you know I don’t mean anything by it. I told him that normally I would take huge offense to it, but really the last twenty minutes of talking had convinced me that the word meant nothing more than a weird sensitivity to him. He certainly did not mean anything by it, so I told him ‘I’m your nigga, only if you are mine as well.’ To which he joyfully agreed. This was about the time where I thought I should leave, but Matt was on a role. After more conversation and perhaps one more drink, Matt ordered for two shots of Patron. I insisted that I pay, but he said, ‘I am paying for these, bitch.’ Now to be honest, I am not schooled on white boy protocols or drunken etiquette. As far as I have noticed, the most offensive the comment the better. So I took the ‘bitch’ statement in stride. After the Patron shots came, he went on a rant that included such comments as ‘you my nigga, and I’m your nigga too’. That was comment number one of white folks getting too familiar. Then seeming to test his limits came, ‘you my ugly black brother’ or something like that. It was only then that I came to the conclusion that he had buttered me up for just this moment. He had spewed his equality message, and social understanding just so he could feel familiar enough to insult me (without seeming to insult).
It was then that my memory reverted to 8th grade when a Chinese kid used the N-word in my presence. Honestly, I don’t remember the kid saying the word, or even the context in which he said it. What I remember was the reaction of another black kid, Freddrick Peterbark, when I told him the story. I told him that [Chinese kid] used the word, and I just walked away from him, convinced he was a jerk. Fred reprimanded me for not beating his ass, saying that was the right response to the slur. I remember being somewhat torn, because my natural reaction was to label the kid a jerk and move on, while the seeming black thing to do was whoop ass. So here I was again. I was convinced that this drunk white guy had descended into the meaningless realm of base insults, but did not feel any urge of violence towards him. Instead, the only thing I wanted from him was yet another drink. Before I had felt bad about his drink buying, (he had no job as far as I could tell) but after his pointless slurs, I insisted that he order more drinks. The beauty of drunks is that they don’t think straight. He ordered two more drinks, and I put mine on an empty table and walked off. That was what made me feel better.
But after I walked away, I had a whole bunch of questions. I do not feel that Matt was a closet racist, but rather that he felt some sort of latent desire to say the un-utter able. To speak the unspeakable, to break the rules of taboo. Here was a black guy telling him that he understood the black plight, and the temptation was too great to resist. He had to take it to the next level and say those things that only black folks or the truly accepted white’s can say. As a graduate of Morehouse College, I have come to terms with certain things. First, the word Nigga is embedded in the culture unfortunately, and also that non-blacks (even at Morehouse) would use the word in a non-controversial way. Matt wanted to ascend to that level of acceptance by testing these phrases out on me, but curiosity was not behind his request, not sincerity. As much as I hate the word, Nigga, I recognize the facts that it can be used by blacks and non-blacks alike as a word of brotherhood. This guy just wanted to use it, not with any meaning behind the word, as a test of his limits. This really has hurt my image of white folks. Here was a guy that truly seemed to sympathize with the struggle of blacks in New Orleans and around the country, but did not really understand his role. He thought that he could circumvent the history of black perception on words by just having sympathy with their current situation. To me that proved he was as ignorant (on race relations) as most other white folks I encounter.
Instead of getting violent, or argumentative, the best I could do was contribute to his high credit card bill for the night. Which made me feel like I was for sale. I essentially said, I will tolerate your belittlement as long as I am getting what I want from you. That seemed like the best course of action, but maybe I should have just told him off. He would have lost nothing then.
This whole situation made me miss Africa (Nigeria specifically), where this issue did not come into play so much. But it also made me think of how Nigeria and whites interact. It was essentially the same way as my situation at the bar. The western (white) companies come in, emphasize their understanding of the Nigerian situation, and then secretly practice superior sentiments. Nigerian get theirs by letting the whites think they are superior. They let the whites work twice as hard at the job, bring in twice the money for the investment, and at the same time let the white companies pay the vast majority of profits to the Nigerian people. Essentially, Nigeria puts up with the western superiority complex to maximize what it is that they want. But is that temporary surrender of respect too much? I don’t know.
What I do know is that the general white population is on notice. This Matt guy made me think that at least some of you understand, but that turned out to be a farce. Now my hope in a shared dream amongst all races is stuck, yet again, in the sand.
posted by Anthony Jackson at 8:47 PM
5 Comments:
I'm shocked and appalled, but I'm also sad that you're back at the "white folks don't get it" standpoint. I'm not one to stand up for white folks all over the world, let them do that for themselves, but there is hope. I promise you, I know this from first hand experience. Unfortunately, I think there is still a responsibility for Black people (especially the smart ones) to try to educate - (hey, guess what? you're not down - I'm not your "nigga") but, you know, sh*t's changing.
Ha! Fred Peterbark told you how to man up! High-larious....who knew Fred was more soldier than you.
Hey Anthony,
just a few comments on that (and I think this is pretty much my first comment on a blog ever):
A) I think I have to disagree what you said about him being educated, understanding the situation of black people etc. - I was not part of the conversation but what he says sounds to me like entirely media infused. That is what you can read in newspapers up and down and he just recited it - intelligent is being able then to use that information. Obviously, that was not the case here. He told you what he got preached - and after a few drinks I feel an (unfortunately) common attitude came out: "Why should I care?". Not saying he tried to be evil, he just did not really cared at all about where those words are coming from, why no one(!) should use them etc. - and I don't expect everyone to know the history, but the implications.
B)In defense of myself: I don't like the last paragraph, quite frankly. Reason being that you go exactly to a point that you defy: Accussing a whole race of something that is related to individuals. For me what you described is certainly an issue in the US and every time I am over there I am surprised how much racial tension exists there. I have never seen it like that in Europe. I am happy to invite you to London any time and you won't find the same set up here. And yes, many white people 1. care 2. listen and learn 3. if they make mistakes, they make them once - and that is only human after all, what we are fortunately all.
Greetings
Christoph
I have unfortunately discovered that a number of issues affecting black people in this country often go over my head, and I blame this on my immigrant status. Such that my numerous white friends and white boyfriends have found me so “unblackened” that they make comments in front of me that would have guaranteed a major ass-whupping by anyone else. One of my best friends, a white Jewish girl from Long Island, jokes frequently that she is “blacker” than me- because she grew up on Motown. This sentiment actually makes her feel that she sympathizes with the black situation, she can say whatever to whomever, even while she goes sailing on the Cape with her friends in their matching Lily Pulitzer dresses. The worst part? I usually don’t bat an eye because it really does go over my head. A friend once said to me (or perhaps it was my sister) that by associating with whites the way that I do, I am guaranteed to inadvertently experience more racism than most other people do just because my attitude encourages ignorant comments, etc. In fact, I am told (most recently by my sis) that I am doing a disservice to black America by not pointing out what happens to be ignorant comments and just b/c I have thick skin (or just clueless- your call), doesn’t mean I shouldn’t stand up for the rest of my race. (I guess beating up the kid as your 8th grade example states).
Anywho, I’m commenting to say that I actually understand your dilemma. You’re sharing beers and conversations with someone and at some point, the conversation ventures into territory that should (and does?) make you uncomfortable. Some people say you should just say- stop. At the same time, is this dialogue? Or is this just really roundabout overt racism? I have yet to discover the right balance for MY life. Where I can freely associate with my friends without selling out who I am, developing a false sensitivity to racial issues, while at the same time educating where I can.
[even though you wrote this while under the influence]
WOW! But I cannot say I am surprised. Excellent analogy at the end. next time you see this guy beat his @$$!
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