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Work 4 Peace,Hold All Life Sacred,Eliminate Violence! I am on my mobile version of the door-to-door, going town-to-town holding readings/gatherings/discussions of my book "But What Can I Do?" This is my often neglected blog mostly about my travels since 9/11 as I engage in dialogue and actions. It is steaming with my opinions, insights, analyses toward that end of holding all life sacred, dismantling the empire and eliminating violence while creating the society we want ALL to thrive in

Monday, May 07, 2018

He's a drug dealer, a thief, a liar...and I'm not a racist...

I'm taking a walk around this neighborhood where I've been camped for the past week and notice is seems to be pretty racially mixed.

I see a white womon standing out in front of her lawn and she starts muttering to me about how she needs to find someone to mow.

I'm happy to point out her neighbor who told me the other day that he is a landscaper. When I share this information with her, she scoffs and says "he's lying".

I'm, frankly, shocked. I look at her trim little house with lovely rows of new tulips leaning slightly towards the setting sun, and ask her how long she's lived in the neighborhood. "It'll be four years this October," she boasts proudly. Then she points to the flowerless apartment next door where Ezequiel lives and claims "They've only been here a couple months, I don't know his name. He's probably lying about that also."

When I ask her why she doesn't know his name, she claims it's because he's a drug dealer. "His baby's name? His girl friend's name? Are they all drug dealers too?"

"Well," she responds, digging herself deeper into her racism, "if he has a lawnmower then he probably stole it."

Really? Fuckin really???

I fall back on my practiced response to white people, especially white people who present themselves as 'liberal', which this white womon does with her "Hate Has No Home Here" sign in the window. "Do you think you are being racist?"

She looks genuinely shocked as she stares at me, shaking her head. "No, I'm being truthful," she retorts.

"What facts are you basing your belief that this Black man is a thief, a drug dealer, a liar? Have you bought drugs from him? Have you spoken to him and asked him his name, introduced yourself?"

Now color is crawling up her neck - the color red - as she claims her proof is that he's home too much, she thinks the clothes he wears are drug dealer clothes and bling he could only afford if he was selling drugs.

I tell her I think she is being racist and this is why, as I run down her stereotypes, her fears, her lack of neighborly friendliness, let alone concern - all spell racism.

She tells me I don't know what I'm talking about, I'm just visiting, I don't live here. I tell her maybe I don't but I know her name and her neighbors' names and what kind of work they do.

I point to her sign and ask her if she thinks what she's saying is not hate thriving here, how has she ensured that love is thriving in her neighborhood?

She mutters she'll think about it, turns heel, and strides up her screen-in porch to slam her heavy wooden door.