pinion Interaction and Understanding are Crucial for Racial Accord

As a columnist, I try to avoid shouting into the wind tunnel. As is my habit, I've tried to wait until the noise died down regarding the recent mass murder in Charleston, South Carolina, even though the event occurred while I was absorbing the recent spat of troubling altercations between white police officers and black citizens in order to explore the issue in a column. In the time since the shootings, a spate of fires set to black churches have kept tensions high. The fact that it has now been several months since there has been air in the conversation on race matters seems to suggest something more than isolated incidents.

My initial thoughts on the shootings in Charleston were on the responses and perceptions. I heard about a young white male who had shot nine African Americans in a church basement during a prayer meeting. I heard about a manifesto they found, hate groups that had apparently inspired his actions, and an intent to strike the first blow in what he'd hoped would be a race war. I found it odd that I never once heard the word terrorism.

I tried to imagine if the boy had not been white, had not been a Christian and perhaps even the victims not being African American. I wondered how the response might have differed had he still been an American but had darker skin, practiced Islam and read the Koran rather than the Bible and propaganda by the Council of Conservative Citizens. I felt confident that the word terrorism would have then been splashed all over the coverage, more of an effort would have been made to examine his contacts and connections and that, in general, his crimes would have been viewed as a key part of a much larger issue and would have quite possibly led to calls for us to send drones into some far flung corner of the world to bomb someone.

You cannot look at popular perception in the United States objectively and not see that our biases and prejudices perpetuate a world in which unity and open-mindedness are unlikely to prosper. I used to think that the end of racial tensions would be something I would see in my lifetime. I was hopeful that my son would be part of the first post-racial generation of Americans, but it has become increasingly clear to me that hate is still taught in too many homes for that to be likely.

I don't know that there has ever been a society on Earth that has not practiced some brand of oppression through some identifiable difference of class, race or religious belief. Nonetheless, the profound degree to which racial divides have defined our culture seems unique. I am Caucasian and it has become my belief through my experiences that as part of the majority race and even the gender that has enjoyed the greatest degree of privilege in our society, the starting point of the problem seems to be white people convincing themselves that they comprehend the perspective of a black-skinned person well enough to either pass judgment or profess understanding.

This was best demonstrated to me when I went into the Army and had become friends with a fellow soldier who happened to be black. I had known a handful of African Americans by that point, but there is something about the shared struggle of basic training that breaks down walls and promotes intimate conversation. Indeed, the military seems to be one of the only organizations in our culture that has managed, for the most part, to transcend race.

The friend was the son of an Air Force General and had lived a somewhat privileged and very cosmopolitan life, at least compared to my own by that point. I had grown up quite poor and the extent of my travel was pretty much limited to week-long excursions to the Jersey Shore each summer. One day, after he had made a comment about some strife or struggle inherent to being black, I gently ribbed him by teasing that he wouldn't know what that was like, even jokingly comparing his experience to the character of Carlton on the sitcom The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.

The conversation turned serious and he acknowledged that he had no idea what it was like to live in an inner-city tenement or get mugged for his sneakers, but argued that many of the drawbacks to having dark skin in our society transcended social class and financial resources. He had never been in trouble in his life, had been raised by a father who demanded exemplary social manners be displayed at all times, was forbidden from wearing trendy haircuts and forced to dress in a way that his father found befitting the fine young man he had raised him to be.

He explained, however, that none of that changed the fact that when he walked down the street and encountered an older white woman she would always clutch her purse tightly, nor did it stop department store clerks from keeping an extra close eye on him when he browsed a rack of expensive jeans. He tried to explain the feeling he got when he'd ask one of his white female classmates that he seemed to click with out on a date and she'd nervously decline in language that pretty much meant to say, my father would disown me the moment you rang the bell.

He explained that because he was a particularly dark-skinned black, his problems seemed much worse and how he spent much of his youth either wishing he'd been born white or at least graced with the lighter skin some of his family was lucky enough to wear. Needless to say, I felt utterly foolish, though I am grateful for an experience that has continued to remind me two decades later that 1.) I cannot even begin to comprehend what it is like to be black in America and 2.) anyone who is, cannot even begin to forget.

From that moment forward, I was always cognizant of the benefits my skin color afforded me. Statistically, I have advantages in every arena from being hired, my earnings, my chance of not getting arrested if I were to commit a crime, my chance of not getting convicted if I do get arrested, my chances of not getting arrested and/or convicted of a crime I didn't commit, as well as the way that everyone from a police officer to an employer or even a rental agent is likely to view and treat me because I will, much more often than not, be of their race. I try and remember all of these things particularly well when the subject of racial issues like affirmative action and police profiling come up and I’m tempted to start spouting off what I think, about things I can’t really understand.

I don't pretend to have an answer on how we get past our racial roadblocks, but I think a good start would be to stop pretending we have a greater understanding of the issue than we do. For me, as a member of the majority, I’ve found it most beneficial to engage as many minorities as I can and allow those interactions and relationships to inform my experience, rather than my preconceived notions of things I'm unfamiliar with.

More importantly, engaging people with an open mind and full heart rarely seems to end in a negative experience, which calls to mind my favorite quote from my favorite author. In one of his journal entries, John Steinbeck once wrote to himself, “Try to understand men. If you understand each other you will be kind to each other. Knowing a man well never leads to hate and almost always leads to love. There are shorter means, many of them. There is writing promoting social change, writing punishing injustice, writing in celebration of heroism, but always that base theme. Try to understand each other.”

I think we would be wise to heed his advice.

Dennis' debut novel, A Long Road Home, is now available for pre-order through the publisher and ships July 3. Click here to reserve a copy. Click here to read previous columns by Dennis.