I Might Be a Racist. Depends On Your Definition

I Might Be a Racist. Depends on Your Definition.

Today I’m coming out of the closet … I’m willing to admit it: I may be a closet racist. It’s true. If racism is feeling (or reacting) differently about one skin color compared to another, then, perhaps, by that definition, I am racist. If racism is the classic definition – believing one race is superior to another – then no, I am not racist.

There is a photo going around the internet of two little boys – one black and one white. The white boy wanted to get his hair cut just like his friend so that their teacher couldn’t tell them apart. They looked alike in features, only skin color differed, yet the little boys didn’t see that at all. They just saw the similarities.

I, on the other hand, still see color. I don’t have anything against color, but I am aware that people of color have different life experiences than I do. I was never told that I couldn’t do or achieve something because of my skin color (or even because of my gender). Even though I’m a white woman, raised in the South, I don’t BELIEVE I live in a society that feels I’m disadvantaged.

There is an over-riding power of belief that shapes our destinies. Thomas Edison’s schoolteacher told his mother Thomas was too dumb to remain in school and kicked him out. Thomas’ mother told him he was too smart for school and that the teacher recommend she tutor him at home.

BELIEF is everything.

I don’t know what it’s like to be told my whole life that I am disadvantaged, that everything will be harder for me, that society will fight me every step of the way. That groups of people hate me. What a daunting specter to have hanging over your head your whole life! Expectation and belief govern destiny.

I’m certainly not saying all people of color were told these things. Some were not. But I’m willing to bet more of them were fed those lines – those limiting belief statements — than were people of my skin color. I’m also not saying that people in some parts of the country don’t deal with real challenges and threats to their safety due to racism. In other words, I’m not saying it’s all in their minds (their beliefs).

That being said, here’s where that closet racist comes in for me … I get really excited and celebrate when I see a person of color succeed. Not only are they doing the hard things, the things that make this world a better place, but they do it despite any limiting beliefs they were told about themselves or their race.

When they excel in business, when they become brain surgeons or doctors, when they do amazing things in a classroom, when they lead congregations, when they invent something or create something, yes, I’m filled with admiration… more so than if someone of my race did the same thing.

Is that patronizing? Is that racist? Maybe, but NOT for the reasons most people would say. It’s because I know they are fighting these lies, these limiting beliefs, that so many in society – especially the left – feed them. “You need extra help, because of your race and/or gender, otherwise, you won’t succeed.” I’ve NEVER had to live my life behind that specter and falsehood.

Here’s a personal example: I recently went to the optometrist. As my new doctor walked in, my heart gave a little leap as I saw she was a black woman. I literally thought to myself: “Oh, how cool! A black woman doctor!” I couldn’t help but think that this was something my grandparents would have never seen.

Another example: I get excited when social media personalities of color speak out for conservative principles. I know this most likely takes a lot of courage to buck the system and go against societal conditioning.

And so, yes, I am a racist. I still inwardly react differently to people of color. I am rooting for them. I am excited for them when they succeed. Sure, I’m excited when other people have success, too, but I can’t deny that little inward jubilation when someone of color stands out above the crowd and creates his or her own life on their own terms. Most likely, that took more doing than it would for me or for someone of my heritage or social background … or, yes, dare I say it? race.

So, yeah, I’m a racist. Maybe one day, there will be absolutely no distinctions, no cultural expectations, nothing but people … just people living their lives, happy for each other’s successes, rooting for each other regardless of any cultural groupings.

Maybe one day we’ll all be like those two little boys. Maybe we’ll live the dream Dr. King spoke of, where people are not judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character. I hope so.

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Posted in Essays, Political Correctness.