Time to admit to our own bigotry

On Friday, President Obama shared his thoughts on the death of Trayvon Martin and subsequent acquittal of George Zimmerman.

During his 20-minute address, he said: “Trayvon Martin could have been me 35 years ago.” He went on to say that the African American community shares common experiences of being distrusted and feared. According to the president, these experiences produce a likewise outlook of distrust and fear in the black community, particularly in the young black men of that community. He went on to say that we must do better with race in this country and address this deep, endemic racial substructure that “doesn’t go away.”

This is indeed an opportunity for us to take an unflinching look at ourselves and perhaps start to come to terms with our attitude on race. I won’t presume to speak for anyone else, so this is coming from my left-of-center, pinko, hippie, liberal outlook. Hopefully, there will be something even non-pinko, hippie, liberals can identify with.

A few years ago, my wife, son and I took an extended vacation to several of America’s historic places. We found ourselves in Philadelphia with the sun going down and the neighborhood becoming less and less white. I should say here that I put myself through college by driving a cab at night in Phoenix and I thought I had seen big city scary before, but nothing could have prepared me for Philadelphia. I don’t know how many of you have been to Philadelphia, but the rough part of this town is a whole other order of rough. As we drove, the streets kept getting narrower, the buildings kept getting darker, the people sitting outside those buildings kept getting darker, and we kept getting whiter and whiter.

On every street we turned down we were scrutinized. Our little Volkswagen van (did I mention I was a hippie?) with three pale — and getting more pale — Alaskans was eyed with what we took to be suspicion and disdain. Every turn seemed to take us deeper into a maze of burned-out buildings with boarded up windows.

I eventually pulled into a gas station across the street from a prison. I was about to get out and ask the Plexiglas-incased attendant for directions when my wife said, “Are you crazy? Don’t you dare get out of this van.” Upon reflection I could see the wisdom in her statement and decided to head toward some street lights a few blocks over. We pulled out onto Broad Street, a major artery that goes through the middle of town, and started moving north. Every corner had at least two uniformed officers. Patrol cars and ambulances rushed by in both directions en route to God only knows. We made our way to Highway 676 and then to 76 and ran as fast as we could until we saw stars again.

The next day we came back into town and took a tour through Independence Hall, saw the Liberty Bell and ate cheesesteak. We also made sure that we were well on our way out of Philadelphia before darkness fell.

I consider myself an irritatingly consistent liberal. Ask anyone who knows me and they will tell you that there is not an ounce of bigotry in me. I have scores of cartoons and reams of writings to back that up. I also can’t deny that on a July night in Philadelphia, I was reduced to a more basic, fearful, unthinking state that allows prejudice to bubble to the surface.

Who knows if the eyes of those people sitting outside those crumbling buildings were filled with suspicion, distain or fear. Perhaps those emotions came from the person behind my eyes, maybe a little of both. What I am certain of is the fear I felt was real. More accurately, the otherness I felt was real. I was clearly outside my element and my brainstem reaction was undeniable.

This sense of self and the attendant sense of difference is something we all have. It’s reflected in family traditions, in community identity and in cultural norms. We all feel a kinship to something and there is nothing wrong with that. It can be a source of strength when we confront adversity. It can also be a source of prejudice when we when customs contradict one another. It comes not from our rational selves, but from the more reptilian portion of our brain.

A common idea is that we need to become colorblind when dealing with race. The suggestion is that we deny this basic, primitive, part of ourselves that helped bring us together in homogenous groups. In the process we would also deny the latent bigotry that exists in us all.

I believe we need to admit to the bigotry that, at some level, exists in every one of us if we are ever to deal with it. If we deny it or rationalize it, it will, from time to time, take control.

That control doesn’t necessarily have to take the form of a burning cross. It can be as simple as running scared out of town until you see the stars.

Chuck Legge is a freelance political cartoonist and community columnist who lives in Sutton.