In our mid twenties, my husband became good friends with someone at work. He spent some months talking about his new best friend morning, noon and night to the point that it was a huge aggravation to me.
I was basically jealous because he seemed more enthused about his new best friend than about me and just would not shut up about the guy. By this time, we had already been married a few years and he had never had a friend before that he talked about so constantly.
After a few months of this, the two of them arranged for both families to meet at a restaurant and have dinner. When his new best friend showed up, to my surprise he was Black.
It was a surprise because my husband had never once mentioned this in all these months of talking about the guy nonstop. That detail apparently wasn't important to my husband.
It was also a surprise because I grew up in Georgia and I just sort of assumed that if my husband didn't mention the guy's race, the guy must be White. With seeing his best friend get out of the car I had two shocking revelations:
First, that I had made this assumption that the guy must be White since nothing had been said and second that this assumption was a racist thing and it was the kind of thing that kept racism alive.
I felt kicked in the gut because I didn't think of myself as racist. I thought I had managed to not drink the koolaid while growing up in the Deep South. I thought I was better than that.
The surprise showed on my face which made for a very awkward meal. I didn't know how to tell this lovely couple "I've just seen something about myself that I didn't previously know and I don't like it. Sorry."
I didn't actually care that they were Black, but this assumption that I did hung in the air and permanently marred my relationship to them. They figured I had a problem with their skin color when what I had a problem with was seeing something ugly inside of myself that I didn't previously know was there -- that, in fact, I believed was NOT there.
I made a note to self to refer the children to their father on all questions of race relations henceforth -- "not my department, I'm not qualified to handle this" -- and this moment in time burned brightly in my mind and was food for thought for me for many years to come.
I was basically jealous because he seemed more enthused about his new best friend than about me and just would not shut up about the guy. By this time, we had already been married a few years and he had never had a friend before that he talked about so constantly.
After a few months of this, the two of them arranged for both families to meet at a restaurant and have dinner. When his new best friend showed up, to my surprise he was Black.
It was a surprise because my husband had never once mentioned this in all these months of talking about the guy nonstop. That detail apparently wasn't important to my husband.
It was also a surprise because I grew up in Georgia and I just sort of assumed that if my husband didn't mention the guy's race, the guy must be White. With seeing his best friend get out of the car I had two shocking revelations:
First, that I had made this assumption that the guy must be White since nothing had been said and second that this assumption was a racist thing and it was the kind of thing that kept racism alive.
I felt kicked in the gut because I didn't think of myself as racist. I thought I had managed to not drink the koolaid while growing up in the Deep South. I thought I was better than that.
The surprise showed on my face which made for a very awkward meal. I didn't know how to tell this lovely couple "I've just seen something about myself that I didn't previously know and I don't like it. Sorry."
I didn't actually care that they were Black, but this assumption that I did hung in the air and permanently marred my relationship to them. They figured I had a problem with their skin color when what I had a problem with was seeing something ugly inside of myself that I didn't previously know was there -- that, in fact, I believed was NOT there.
I made a note to self to refer the children to their father on all questions of race relations henceforth -- "not my department, I'm not qualified to handle this" -- and this moment in time burned brightly in my mind and was food for thought for me for many years to come.