I generally try to remain anonymous. I've tried not to reveal too much about myself as far as demographics are concerned.
In this post, I will break away from that trend a bit. Otherwise, I cannot write about my true feelings on this subject matter.
I've been living in a new city, neighborhood, and house for about two years as of the date of this post. Same state, mind you. Just a smaller suburb outside of the capital city. Overall, I enjoy living here compared to the capital from which I've moved. But, I feel quite outnumbered where I live because . . . well . . . I'm a minority.
I guess that goes without saying; if you're outnumbered, you're in the minority.
But, I'm a demographic minority; A racial minority.
In that regard, my family is unique on my street.
That's not a big deal.
But when I go to the park with my family, we are often unique "demographically" speaking in that situation, too.
When I take my kids to soccer practice, I look across field and scan the seven or eight other teams practicing various sports only to find myself and my son or daughter as the only dark skinned people around.
When my kids stand at the bus stop . . . it's all the same story.
Sure, this shouldn't be a big deal.
And usually, it's not.
But sometimes, I feel like people look down on me and my family. I feel sometimes that people wish I wasn't present-- as though I've ruined their day. My presence rubs in the fact that the town is not exclusive to only one kind any longer . . . whatever that's supposed to mean.
Some days, I feel like a mangy dog that someone finds to be pesky and bothersome; perhaps even repugnant.
I feel sometimes as though people see me as the bringer of blight to the community-- as though my visit to the park heralds the commencement of the perfect neighborhood's downfall.
No . . . no one has been cruel to me. No one has been offensive or mean to me. The few neighbors I've talked with have mostly been cordial.
But most people ignore us. And then, there are those who deeply frown at us when we pass by.
See . . . in the South, people smile and wave all the time to most people who pass by. People say "hello" and "good-morning" to total strangers constantly. As a matter of fact-- in Southern culture, to not greet someone with a "hi" or a slight wave is considered insulting to most people who or products of Southern culture. You don't have to wave to everyone, but you are expected to wave back if someone speaks to you . . . within reason, of course.
So, to "not speak" or snub someone who greets you can be considered quite insulting in the South. At the very least, ignoring someone is often perceived as snobbery or coldness. This behavior can possibly draw comments out of other Southerners such as "ya damn Yankee".
This is said under the breath or behind the Yankee's back, of course.
We ain't known for our hospitality for nothin'.
But when snubbing happens between races, the words Yankee, snob, or cold, aren't used. Especially if the one doing the snubbing is a Southerner.
The word most often used in that case just mentioned above is: racist.
So, what am I to think when my neighbor of two years from across the street never acknowledges my existence even as we pass by on the street?
When out at the park, what am I think when my greetings are returned with a snub or a sour grunt and a furrowed brow from other parents?
And what should I think when someone dons a
Rebel flag on their hat, T-shirt, or F-450 pickup truck? How about when they draped it in their window like a curtain or fly it high with a really tall flag pole in their front yard?
I don't know what I'm supposed to think.
But I do remind myself that I mustn't be hypersensitive. I remind myself that not everyone feels comfortable "speaking" as we say and not every frown is wish that we'd pack our things a leave town.
I think these things, then I just take a deep breath and carry on.
I carry on and hope that one day we all get past our ancient evolutionary circuitry and finally see all people as simply people.
