Black?

On Friday night Bill Maher had Mos Def and Cornel West on his show. Mos Def was funny. Cornel West was his warm, loquascious self. Bill held his own, but he displayed some symptoms- side effects, if you will, of a brush with blackness.

Now, I don't say this to be critical. There are just some uncomfortable truths about how white people behave around anyone who is behaving "Black". This is where things get sticky for me to describe. Even my hackles raise when someone describes something as "black" because I know that "black" is a cultural generalization that falls apart whenever you start looking at the individual. But for the sake of expediency I am going to use this inaccuracy to throw some light on another inaccuracy..."white".

Mos Def brought the black with him. Cornel West luxuriated in it. Bill Maher, as I said, held his own and did not turn into a Zelig. Even so, his language got a shade blacker and there was at least one instance of awkward "white" defensiveness. I don't bring this up to dissect Bill Maher's ability to mix with other cultures or anything else related specifically to those involved with Friday's show. I only bring it up because it started me thinking about how race affects my behavior.

I am decidedly more lame than Bill Maher. Like a good liberal I am afraid of discussing race. In a ridiculous turn of Stephen Colbert-like behavior I have a tendancy to avoid even mentioning race as if I don't even see it. This summer my son had a park playdate with one of his friends who just happens to be black. I was watching both of them in a very large and busy playground when she disappeared into the crowd. I started calling for her and when she didn't come my heart started to pound and I was running all over the park to find her. Another parent asked me who I was looking for. I struggled to describe her without saying the word "black". Finally, I realized that was a stupid thing to do and while I was finally able to spit it out I felt an innocent tapping on my back and there she was, smiling at me.

Why was it so uncomfortable for me to admit to a stranger that another human being is black? I encountered a similar feeling when I tried to point out to another parent a little girl that my son had a crush on who just happens to be Asian. The one over there, with the pink backpack and black hair. No the other pink backpack. She has stragiht black hair! Oh! Why won't you just get what I am saying? Like a good liberal I sought a culturally diverse school for my son. I am so happy that my little Irishman's best friends are Arab, Hispanic, Black and Asian and that he hardly notices anything beyond "John always looks like he has a tan...". But I feel myself, somehow, unworthy to acknowledge race in any way. What if "black" is the wrong word? What if I'm a jerk for even noticing? And, ultimately, if I acknowledge race than I would have to admit to my own race and my own race is not as sexy.

I have a lot of Puerto Rican neighbors. My Spanish is terrible, but I can pick up the gist of what they're gossiping about on the stoop while we let our kids play on the sidewalk before dinnertime. I usually keep my mouth shut, not because I can't relate to them and not even because I don't understand them. To be honest, I listen to their bawdy jokes and wish I felt that comfortable. White, middle class, mommies only talk about sex in hushed tones over glasses of wine after the children are in bed. In addition to concerns about my cultural lameness I feel the unspoken accusation that my gleaming white appearance on the block is going to raise their rents next year. Regardless of my friendly intentions, my presence is part of a larger trend that shakes them at their financial foundations.

Of course, those that are homeowners on the block welcome me with open arms.

I try to be easy going. A black man that I used to work with had this t-shirt that read, "Lady, I don't want your purse". I think that is hysterical and it made me super conscious of how I treat black strangers on the street and on the train. Most of the time, I over do it. I now have this horrible, Pavlovian response to young black men. They make me yawn. If I was observing a pack of dogs I would say that the yawning dog was displaying submissiveness. Maybe the yawning dog is trying to overcompensate for the sins of the rest of the pack. How arrogant and self-important is that?

A girl I went to high school with once gave me a serious verbal bitch slapping. She said to me, "There is nothing more insulting to me than white guilt. White guilt comes from pity and let me tell you, I don't need your fucking pity." That stopped me absolutely cold. But I still don't know what to do with that. Down deep, I know that no one is asking me to DO anything except relax and be human. But I'm not really sure how to do that. I feel the constant need to try to identify myself as "one of the good guys". When it comes down to it, I think that is the heart of white lameness.

It's like those movies in the 80's about the civil rights movement. Those films were always told from the "good" white perspective. Black characters were relegated to secondary importance while some fair minded white person fought for truth, justice and the American way. This kind of liberalism is horrible, insulting and it diminishes those it pretends to lift up. It is a part of my indoctrination and I struggle to slough it off. In the crusade for equality the best I can do is be supportive and work to meet everyone somewhere in the middle. The revolution is not going to be led by this face.

Damn. This shit is hard.