I'll Have the Racism With Nuts, Please

I have a friend with whom I have the most interesting conversations. We have a good deal in common and have spent many hours discussing everything from politics to religion to food to women to the stupid things we did while growing up, and although we often play devil’s advocate to each other, we are always civil and able to agree to disagree.

My friend is a black man who grew up in South Carolina; I spent half my youth in a lily-white Illinois farming community and the other half in a suburb of Detroit. We both have degrees and we are also both veterans. One of our favorite subjects is racism, and with America on the cusp of an historic presidential election, it’s never too far on the back burner to be easily moved front and center, no matter where the conversation starts. So you know, my friend is a republican, and in spite of his proud nature, he is not professing fealty to Obama. I believe he will make a choice based on rational thinking and not blind racial allegiance. As I’ve stated before, I always listen to all candidates, then vote for the one I’m most comfortable with when they lie to me. So, now that I’ve told you that, let me tell you this:

We were talking the other day, and my friend told me that he’s very keen to find “hidden” racism in everyday situations. I wanted to know how, given the virtual castration of political correctness, such a thing was possible. “It’s everywhere”, he said. I wanted a specific example. He cited Blue Bell ice cream, a very popular brand in the southern American states. “How”, I asked, “do they purvey discreet racism?” He said they have a package that contains both chocolate and vanilla flavors in one carton. The chocolate, he said, is divided right down the middle, separate from the vanilla. “Yeah”, I said. “So?” He said it’s not two flavors swirled together. It’s black on one side, and white on the other. I had a hard time suppressing a giggle here, but he went on to say that the company slogan was “Tastes like the good old days”, which meant that the presentation of the two flavors in the package was a subtle reminder of how wonderful America was when we had separate drinking fountains. I laughed out loud at this point, convinced that he was pulling my leg. We both eventually agreed that there really are people who would believe such nonsense, although I don’t believe that he totally discounts it. I shouldn’t be too hard on him, though. If I’m not mistaken, it was a white person who claimed the Virgin Mary appeared on a grilled cheese sandwich (that she sold ten years later for $28000 on Ebay).

I asked my buddy a few minutes later if he had been keeping up on a developing story here in Florida that involves a young woman currently in jail on suspicion of having something to do with the disappearance of her 6 month old baby girl. (I won’t go into details; you can read about it here.) We were looking at an internet article on the story which featured a large picture of the missing child. The missing white child. My friend opined that the story wouldn’t be getting the coverage it is if the missing child was black. I disagreed. In fact, through a grisly coincidence, I pointed out the case of the woman in Pennsylvania who was arrested last week for killing an 18 year old pregnant girl, cutting her unborn infant from her womb and taking it to a hospital, claiming it was hers. (Read details here) Both victim and perpetrator in that case were black.

My point should be obvious: horrific crimes get the attention they get because they’re horrific, not so the media can portray thugs or rednecks in a bad light. Whether you’re from the hood or from the trailer park, you are just as apt to commit an atrocity. No rational person wants to see an infant, any infant disappear. To hear of their slaughter is an anathema. If ever there was an innocent victim, it is the child caught in a maelstrom of adult emotion.

Do black people have a history of mistreatment? Of course they do, but so does everybody else. Name one race throughout history that hasn’t subjugated others (as well as itself) and I’ll kiss your ass. We’ve been hurting each other since time began, and until we learn to get along, we’ll keep on doing it. Bad people come in all colors, and they all leave the same red stain.

OK, that’s enough for now. Watch for an upcoming essay on news bias and religious intolerance. And with that, I think I’m going to have a treat: A bowl of vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup sounds like just the ticket. I don’t care about the presentation. Call me crazy, but food is for your mouth, not your eyes. And by the way, my dad makes the best ice cream in the world. So there.