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jlhThis Is Dedicated to That One Black Kid, comic by Keith Knight
Monday: who lives in that tiny ass town off the highway, in the middle of nowhere
Tuesday: who was not into hip hop in high school
One thing I've got used to is being the only Person of Color, or just the only black person, that some of my friends know or are close friends with. I'm not always aware of what that means for them because it's been my natural state since I was very young. But sometimes I wonder, does that lead to added responsibility for me? I'm so used to "educating" people about race, but is that my job, because so many of my friends are white?
A friend of mine from high school, who went to Dartmouth (not a lot of black folks there) did a stint for Teach for America in rural North Carolina and that first Christmas she said to me, "Wow, Clio, all black folks are not like you!" My thought was, "no shit, sherlock," but then I thought, well, it was entirely natural that she would think that, and very honest and open of her to admit that being in North Carolina really opened her eyes to how race works in a place that isn't as bizarre and insular as Maine.
After all, being friends with me certainly doesn't mean you aren't racist. I mean, I have my own racist moments so I certainly can't absolve you of yours merely by being in your life. Yet, I'm often asked to explain what the black folks are all upset about this time, or why thus-and-such is racist, and while sometimes I'm happy to do that, sometimes I worry. After all, with my background, I'm even more loathe to talk for all black folks than most. Never mind that I don't want to take on the responsibility of the racial education of all of my friends; it isn't my job. And really, it's the responsibility of each of us to do that for ourselves. That's certainly what I did.
Monday: who lives in that tiny ass town off the highway, in the middle of nowhere
Tuesday: who was not into hip hop in high school
One thing I've got used to is being the only Person of Color, or just the only black person, that some of my friends know or are close friends with. I'm not always aware of what that means for them because it's been my natural state since I was very young. But sometimes I wonder, does that lead to added responsibility for me? I'm so used to "educating" people about race, but is that my job, because so many of my friends are white?
A friend of mine from high school, who went to Dartmouth (not a lot of black folks there) did a stint for Teach for America in rural North Carolina and that first Christmas she said to me, "Wow, Clio, all black folks are not like you!" My thought was, "no shit, sherlock," but then I thought, well, it was entirely natural that she would think that, and very honest and open of her to admit that being in North Carolina really opened her eyes to how race works in a place that isn't as bizarre and insular as Maine.
After all, being friends with me certainly doesn't mean you aren't racist. I mean, I have my own racist moments so I certainly can't absolve you of yours merely by being in your life. Yet, I'm often asked to explain what the black folks are all upset about this time, or why thus-and-such is racist, and while sometimes I'm happy to do that, sometimes I worry. After all, with my background, I'm even more loathe to talk for all black folks than most. Never mind that I don't want to take on the responsibility of the racial education of all of my friends; it isn't my job. And really, it's the responsibility of each of us to do that for ourselves. That's certainly what I did.
