I remember one evening sitting in a coffee shop in San Francisco. I was reading a news article in the Chronicle about African-American collectors of racist momentos from the 19th and 20th centuries.
There were piggy banks and clocks and cartoons adorned by dehumanizing depictions of people of African descent. And then there was that word, "pickaninny."
"What the hell is a 'pickaninny'"? I thought to myself. Supposedly, as an American with a skin color who therefore is part of the larger national discourse on racial inheritance, I was perceived to know what this word meant. The author at least assumed I did. But I didn't. I had never heard the term before in my life; nor, I might add, seen the clocks and piggy banks and poster art that was now being collected for posterity.
So what did I do? I asked my friend who attended Wesleyan what the term meant. {For your sake, it's an old derogatory term for African-American children} My friend informed me of its meaning, but confessed that he too had only learned about it in a class on race relations in America.
So this is what the "racial divide" had come down to -- two college-educated, 20-something Italian-American males querying each others knowledge of old racial epithets that we ourselves had never used nor even heard outside of a class at a liberal arts college or an article in the San Francisco Chronicle.
This in many ways embodies my whole experience with the racial issues that are being circulated and recirculated during this presidential election campaign. For the first time, I began to hear of a "white vote" in places like Pennsylvania or Mississippi. This seemed a tad farfetched.
Allegedly, I had something in common with other persons of European descent and that would influence my vote in the primary season. But, if we sliced it down further, why wasn't I supporting my fellow paesan from the mezzogiorno -- Rudolf Giuliani? Why did people like me settle for regular old "white meat" when they could have prosciutto instead? It didn't make any sense. Where was my sense of racial or ethnic loyalty?
Then there was the Michelle Obama and the "whitey" rumor. This was supposed to have some disconcerting affect on me, because as a person of European descent, I was supposed to take offense at being referred to as "whitey." Of course, it was untrue, and if it had been true, then it would have made her at least look foolish. But it wasn't. And so how could such a stupid rumor be so powerful as to make Obama start a website called "stop the smears" to counter it? Who cares about this stuff. Really.
This week I got wind of John McLaughlin's "oreo" comment. An "oreo" is supposedly a black guy who is "white on the inside" -- you know, a gentleman of African descent who looks like a star basketball player, but plays golf or tennis instead. Except the top golfers and tennis players are also of African descent. And if I am white on the outside and on the inside, then how come I suck at both tennis and golf?
I am sure you have heard Jesse Jackson's comment about severing Mr. Obama's testicles because he "talks down to black people." This is what Jesse Jackson spends his time thinking about? Cutting other men's balls off? Because they don't adopt the correct tone in speaking to certain constituencies. I was first confused and then confused some more.
I am relating these stories to you to try and explain how detached a 28-year-old person like myself can feel from contemporary racial discourse in American life. I don't understand the terminology. I don't understand the innuendo. I strain to grasp the meaning of terms like "oreo."
I also don't understand why it is constantly pushed in my face, like it would be relevant to me. It's annoying yes, but mostly just alienating.