THE FABRIC OF THIS COUNTRY

Years ago my apartment mate would wistfully dream of visiting the deep south and other parts of the country for the food. Being of Cantonese ancestry, food is a consuming passion for her. But the reality of American racism kept her from ever going there. Which, as it turns out, is a good thing. Because even though it is the twenty first century, there are still pockets of asshole everywhere.

During my first year back in the States (which I had left when I was two years old), I was told "we shoot people like you where I come from" (in San Francisco), "go back where you came from" (in Oakland), "You're a damned commie" (in Berkeley). That still happens.
Because I have an accent.
I'm white.

Here in the Bay Area it doesn't happen often. But it still does happen.


Most people are not like that. But there remains an underlying distrust and dislike of what is perceived as "other", and any tolerance is paper thin.


If you are white and doubt this, think of how often someone will still tell you a Black joke, an Asian joke, a Mexican joke, or a Jew joke.

Or think of George Floyd. Or Eric Garner.

Or "why don't you ask China?"


Irrespective of my apartment mate's non-Anglo ethnic background, she's more American than I am. Her daddy fought in WWII in an American uniform despite the racism then, and she has lived her whole life here.


But I can go to Texas or Minneapolis, and as long as I keep my mouth shut things will probably be okay.



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