Racism Begins At Home
Author: Ken Homer Issue: 2024-04-03
Racism Begins At Home
by Ken Homer
The racism in my house growing up Was not particularly overt But it was definitely there Although my father pretty much Eschewed religion–Don’t fall for that Jesus crap–he believed that Black People bore the mark of Cain
I suspect that was a lesson learned In his early childhood something he Absorbed before he was capable Of critically examining what his elders Were teaching him about the world Just as I was incapable of questioning The racism he passed along to me I simply adopted his views as my own
The only Black person I was exposed to As a young child was my aunt and Uncle’s housekeeper – Daisy Who was always kind to me Daisy made the most amazing Chocolate chip cookies Served warm from the oven With a large glass of milk I liked Daisy a lot She had a great laugh And she knew how to talk to children
I couldn’t figure out how to Reconcile my father’s view of Black People with my experience of Daisy When I tried to talk with him about it He would tell me that you could Sometimes find individual Black people Who were okay but as a race Black people were not to be trusted
I internalized my dad’s fear of Black People at a very early age Whenever we’d go into New York City I would worry that the car would break Down in a Black neighborhood and We’d be exposed to horrible dangers
My dad would toss out The N-word Now and then as the Civil Rights Movement was gaining momentum Nearly always conjoined with Goddamn I knew it was a word of rare power I could sense the hatred it transmitted The absolute disgust that it conveyed
My dad’s racism came to the fore Whenever race riots erupted Which happened a lot in the ‘60s He was incensed when Tommie Smith And John Carlos raised their fists in the Black Power Salute in the ‘68 Olympics
He taught me to shoot when I was 7 Just in case “they” came for us He even bought me my own rifle (I soon became an expert marksman) Shooting bottles was one thing But shooting a human being Was something else entirely I’m grateful I was never Tested in that regard
My father was the manager Of a department store He hired several Black people And he treated them well He never showed overt signs of racism He laughed and joked with them He promoted them when They proved competent
A flawed and deeply wounded man My father passed along to me Many of the conflicting lessons he Had inherited from his parents and from The times and culture in which he lived The impacts of his racism have mostly Faded from my life but they’re still Not completely eradicated I don’t know that they ever will be
Ken Homer • March 2024
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