From my New Year’s resolutions:
Whereas: When faced with injustice and bigotry, I am likely as not to remain silent,
And whereas: To do such is immoral and cowardly,
Therefore be it resolved that: I will actively oppose injustice and bigotry.
From my Manifesto:
The most pervasive and appalling racism I currently see is not against blacks or Arabs, but against Hispanics. Even among my friends, persons who are otherwise aware, intelligent, and progressive see no problem with describing the Mexican immigrant population as if it were a cockroach infestation…
Having decided at the New Year that I would no longer be a coward, I have started reprimanding those that I hear making such comments. I have done better in many instances, but have yet to be severely tested by my friends. I inevitably will be.
So a test came, and I passed it not.
Whether it has been due to my coldly disapproving responses or by their own growing tolerance, no one has launched into a diatribe about how generally uncouth and abominable they find Hispanics to be within my earshot in more than a year. For various reasons, the worst offenders have since fallen out of my life, but from those that remain, I hear something that screams out at me but seems to pass by most others unnoticed.
“It’s gotten crowded around here. Look at those
Hispanic people.” “Now, make a U-turn. Careful, don’t hit that
Hispanic lady.” “That’s my old house! Some
Hispanic people live there now.”
The use of the word “Hispanic” where race is irrelevant is itself pejorative. It is used to set a group of people apart from the rest of humanity, alleging that they are so fundamentally different and separate from the rest that to say “people” cannot accurately or sufficiently name them. That separation devalues said people, suggesting that they are not among those most valued of creatures, simply called “people.”
“Look at those
black people.” “Careful, don’t hit that
black lady.” “Some
black people live there now.” Surely, at hearing any of these sentences, I would be offended as deeply as to the core of my being, and would thunderously denounce the speaker, reminding him or her that my humanity and that of those who share my color is not different from or inferior to his or her own. Indeed, whenever talking about my appearance and mentioning my skin, some of these people choose their words very carefully, mindful of the meaning in what they say and how I will respond to it. Thus my response to what I heard was all the more shameful.
I said nothing.
The moment passed unmarked, and what remains now is a sense that I failed the better good of humanity by choosing silent cowardice instead. What would I say to discourage this? Would I damage my relationship with this person, whom I value intensely, if I did? Would I successfully convey the massage that this is a means of wrongfully devaluing people, or would I only cause the speaker to avoid it in my presence so as not to upset me? These questions echoed between my ears, where the sound of my own voice speaking should have been.
So instead of sleeping tonight, I document this situation, and wonder if my failure to object and the awareness of it mean that at some fundamental level, I cannot continue to abide some of the people I love. At the very least, when I review my New Year’s resolutions on the last day of this year and I come to this one, I will have to mark it “NOT DONE.”