My parents and my aunt own a home together in New York. Recently, they decided to switch home insurance companies for a lower premium. One of their past policies got dropped after Hurricane Sandy and they’ve been shopping around for a good policy ever since.
Recently, after they decided on a new policy, the insurance company told them they would send out an inspector to look at the house before officially implementing the policy; something they typically do. They agreed.
I happen to be home with them at the time the insurance guy comes to look at the house. A car idles across the street; my parents wonder “is that the guy?” He gets out and begins taking pictures.
“He’s here!” my father yells. “Oh, and he’s black.”
“Sure, now he’s going to scrutinize us because we’re white and he’s probably mad Trump won.” my mom responds.
“With all that’s going on, they shouldn’t send black people to white people’s houses,” my aunt suggests. “Of course he’s going to find something wrong.”
Hide the candles, check the outlets, move a piece of furniture in front of that protruding pipe.
The man takes out his tape measure and being measuring outside. He walks upon the driveway. I see my mom and my aunt and start a conversation with them.
“You know, it’s not because he’s black that his scrutinizing,” I explain. “Insurance companies are crooks. They can only survive if they collect premiums from people whom they assume will never have to use the policy. You are subsidizing all the people who are making claims. That’s how it works. So they don’t want to issue you a policy if they think you might use it. That’s why they are scrutinizing.”
“Oh I agree insurance companies are crooks,” my aunt says. “But who do you think are the ones making all the claims? It’s them. It’s black bastards and these immigrants who come here and subdivide their homes and squeeze in 15 people. They’re the reason for this.”
She points out the window to the black guy.
“He’s just here to protect his own. That’s why they send THEM.”
She reminds me that I’m young and don’t understand and that while she voted for Obama twice,”they think they can do whatever they want now because he was president.”
[insert eye roll emoji here]
And here we are progressive friends, a world where the insurance company, bad as it is, is not the enemy — the black guy who comes to check the house is.
The guy is super nice. Shakes my dad’s hand, tells him about the problem of illegal gas lines at some homes in Brooklyn he’s looked at. He marvels at my parents’ inground pool and notes that the locks on the gates surrounding the pool are a good idea.
“This is such a great house,” he tells my dad. “Beautiful.”
After he looks through the house and leaves with a handshake and a smile, my neighbor drops by. She never misses a trick. If you take a piss, she knows about it.
“How did it go?” she asked.
“They sent a black guy,” my mom said.
“Oh, that sucks,” the neighbor said. She suggests calling the insurance companies and complaining that the guy wasn’t nice, and also changing the locks because now he knows where we live. My aunt agrees and goes for the phone.
A nice black man will get scolded for doing a job that a greedy insurance company made him do. My parents and my aunt will still get the policy and complain that it’s the fault of greedy black people every single time their premiums go up.
And that, my friends, in one January morning is why I don’t think we beat racism and bigotry with economic populism. Too many white folks would quicker align themselves with the corporate elite than with people of color on their same level.