Lou’s View: RACISM

By Lou Bernard

I used to see stories of racism, and have a vague feeling of “not good.” I’d see stories of black people getting shot or injured by white police, and of course I’m not in favor of it, but it didn’t affect me that much, other than to think I’d never participate in something like that. It never really hit home for me.

This is because I’m white. As a white, straight, middle-aged male, prejudice hasn’t really been a big part of my life.

Then came July 1, 2014. This is when my son was born.

My son, Paul Matthew, is adopted. He was born in New Orleans, and we got him at fourteen hours old. I remember looking down at him in the hospital, all wrapped up and sleeping, this tiny little thing, and trying to wrap my head around the idea that I was his father.

Paul Matthew is black.

So far, prejudice hasn’t made much of a noticeable impact on his life—He’s almost six, and he’s a cute little guy. He’s very bright and charming. He is deeply sensitive; he carefully steps around slugs and ants on the sidewalk, out of a desire not to hurt them.

So he hasn’t noticed any overt signs of prejudice. And for the most part, I have to give Clinton County credit—Mostly, everyone has been wonderful. Warm and supportive of my interracial family.

Mostly.

But even with a baby, a toddler, we had a few incidents. The woman who took one look at our black child and automatically assumed we were low-income. The old lady who seems to be under the impression that the agency sprung a black baby on us, without our knowledge. The children on the playground who teased him because of the color of his skin. The many people who assume without asking that I’m babysitting, or he’s a Fresh Air Kid, or something.

There are probably other incidents that I haven’t even noticed, because, again, I am white.

So far, these have been minor annoyances. But that’s not going to last. As he gets older, racism is going to play more of a part in his life. Right now, he’s a cute and funny little boy. He won’t always be. And it scares me, thinking of what he may face as he gets older.

Now, I see news stories of black men being killed by police….And it could be my child. It could be my child not too far in the future. In a way, I get it now. And in a way, I never will—I spent ninety percent of my life not really feeling this fear, not really knowing until I had a child to protect.

It has to stop. And, sadly, I don’t have the magic words to stop it. But it’s not going to do much good if I just write a column that amounts to “Hey, stupid, quit being racist!”

So what can we do?

Notice racism. And call it out. Racism isn’t always open, hateful slurs….Sometimes it’s small things that add up. Make an effort to pick up on those, and say something.

Raise your children to accept everyone.

And encourage representation. When I look at the heroes of my childhood—Batman, the Flash, Indiana Jones—They were all white, and I never noticed that. I’m making an effort to give Paul more diverse heroes to choose from, showing him good guys of many different races.

And to that end, I’m also going to make more of an effort to feature diversity in my columns. Much of the history of Clinton County was set by white European types—But not all. There were people who made history here, one way or another, and were more racially diverse. And I’m going to make an effort to feature more of them in my column.

Representation is important.

We can change things….But it’s going to take effort. From all of us.

And I’m going to do my part.

For my little boy.