My Own Racism.

When I was 16, I was the quintessential small town white rapper. Clad in a tall-t, cheap chain, and sagging jeans.

I felt threatened. I was small, weak, and I was driven by a need to be strong and intimidating. At some point, I decided that the image of a strong, intimidating, scary individual, was a young black man. I needed to personify that. So I did.

I didn’t rationalize it like that. I would have honestly denied it at the time. But it was the truth, whether I was aware of it or not. I, as a white male, not only bought into the image of the “scary black man”, I twisted and perpetuated it to serve my own purpose.

In time, I changed. I became more comfortable with myself and dropped the facade. With even more time, I recognized what was wrong with what I did. I recognized my racism, and how I had facilitated the attitudes I hated.

At 16, I felt that I was adamantly anti-racist. I lived in a place, and went to a school, where racist sentiment was constantly expressed and shared. I started arguments and fights with kids who shared such sentiments. It angered me. My teenage angst, was against the hatred and racism I saw around me.

But, all the while I was angry, I perpetuated and fueled the undercurrent of that racism because of a belief I had. I believed young black men were intimidating. I was racist. In one way or another, as white Americans, we are all racist. It’s inevitable, we were steeped in racism from birth. We are a product of it.

We benefit from redlining, and the segregation of neighborhoods across America. It dictates the communities we live in, and the environments in which we are exposed to during our formative years.

We see American culture defined as the things of which we were familiar with, neglecting the culture and ways of life of millions of Americans.

And we survive childhood, because when a police officer or armed stranger looks at a 16 year old white male, he doesn’t see the same thing as when he sees a black male. In the midst of all my teenage fury, I made the situation for a black male in America, worse.

I committed crimes. I generally did bad things. And I did all of it, cloaked in the image of young black men. Every police officer who encountered me, had the stereotype they had put in place for young black men who dressed as I did, reinforced.

It was my own internalized racism, that young black men were scary and intimidating, that led my actions, whether I understood it or not. It wasn’t the intent of my actions. But the effect is not dependent on the intent.

Our own racism is never a fight we can raise the “Mission Accomplished” flag on. We will never defeat our racism. But we must combat it, and insure that we are always a better and more racially understanding person today, than we were yesterday, and start looking at who we should be tomorrow. Every single day must be a day of growth, if we hope to right the great wrongs that exist in America.

I don’t ever want to hear the phrase “I’m not racist”. That’s bullshit. By not recognizing the racism you have internalized, from living a lifetime in a culture of racial division, you are allowing a place for that racism to fester. You are allowing yourself to be part of the problem you seek to fight.

Don’t tell others you are fixed. Do not pretend ideological righteousness. Ask others how you can be better. Ask yourself how you can be better.