One card from the deck
“... the white Christian community has the most
intense racialized spaces and gazes”
It was only 30 miles from home so that seemed less like the
nether regions. And I had a ride from a close friend I trust and her husband.
As we entered the town (about 25,000 people), we commented on the beautiful architecture.
I was struck by the quaintness of the town – small businesses, no chain stores
until we got to Subway. The tallest structure was City Hall, an architectural delight.
The quaint factor continued as we turned into the church
parking lot where our meetings would take place. I stopped at the meeting room to
put down my laptop bag before proceeding to the doorway where my traveling
companions waited, chatting with the women in the kitchen. When one of the
women saw me walk up, she said with a smile, “Are you here for the AA meeting?”
Apparently, there were two meetings happening at the same
time: the church meeting I was to attend and an AA meeting. I have nothing but
great admiration for the people who attend AA meetings. I count numerous family
members and friends in that number. But if the woman wanted to be helpful, why
didn’t she ask, “Are you here for the AA meeting or the XYZ meeting?” Was it
the jeans I was wearing? Was it the braids in my hair or the denim hat I was
wearing on those braids? Or was it my brown skin?
“A ‘card,’ then, is an isolated
event. ‘Playing a card’ simply means stating one’s interpretation of that
particular incident” (Hart, 45).
As I sat through that first meeting (not AA), her words
stayed in my head. “Are you here for the AA meeting?” Sometimes ten or fifteen
minutes would go by before that echo sounded again. “Are you here for the AA
meeting?” After the meeting, everyone thanked me for my input and praised the
value of my attendance to the process. The work we were doing was important and
I wanted to do it but it was exhausting being, once again, the “only one” in
the room.
“In their racial framework, I was the
exception to the rule that allowed them to gaze at other black students as
thugs or charity cases” (Hart, 40).
When I ate lunch with my friend and her husband, the echo
disappeared. Afterwards, in the lull between lunch and the second meeting that
day, it returned and it amplified at dinner when someone described taking a
walk along the river. I imagined what would have happened if I had taken that
scenic walk. Would I have encountered something more serious to complain about
than the cold wind off the water? “Are you here for the AA meeting?”
Riding to the inn where we were staying, I searched the
people we passed – walking or riding in cars – and remained an only. Usually,
when I travel to these small towns, I find someone of color working at the inn
or at a fast food place. But there was no one coming close to looking like me
that night or that morning.
After checking out, I grabbed a complimentary “Community Guide”
on my way out the door. I thumbed through every page, looking for me. None on
the page picturing the Chamber of Commerce. Definitely not the mayor who wrote
the introduction. I imagined I saw one football player in the group celebrating
the local high school team but on closer inspection, it was just the light. I
had hopes when I saw a picture of a crowd of high school students throwing up
their graduation caps. I paused to look
at every face in the crowd, but my hopes stayed unrealized.
By the time I finished glancing through the “Community Guide,”
I counted two very young children of color – both under 10 years old. And I
wondered who were their parents and what the people they encountered assumed
about them. Where did they belong and to whom did they belong? “Are you here
for the AA meeting?”
“An individual moment, event, or
action is judged by looking for KKK rhetoric, or maybe the N-word, or some
cross burning in the yard” (Hart, 47).
Nice white people can make racist remarks. They mean no harm
and often don’t recognize when they have done just that. Should I get angry? Point out what
they’ve done? Why? Is it my job? Another burden I must bear? And what response
would I receive if I tried to explain, made an effort to educate?
Sometimes, depending on the person, the time, the place, and
my mood, I do say something and there are generally three responses, neither of
which is productive: I get an apology and the white person goes about her
business. The white person’s feelings are hurt because I took offense when no
offense was intended. The white person is embarrassed and steals away in silence.
And none of this is helpful.
“race always means something in our society” (Hart, 44).
I once asked church members (all white) in attendance at a
special service I was leading, “How often do you think about race?” Their
responses were honest and illuminating. Most admitted they think about it when
they hear about a racist incident which, they commented, appears often in
the news. Most admitted race is rarely on their minds unless it’s brought home
to them by a comment. At least one
person owned they are often made aware of their privilege. I asked them to
consider that race plays a large part in their own lives whether they’re aware
of it or not because they benefit from the privilege their race accords them.
In my life, there’s always
something that makes me aware whether I want to be aware or not. Rarely does it
take me off-guard as it did that day when someone assumed something about me
and my presence among them. It was a small thing and I probably would not have
been so bothered about it if I had not felt so comfortable driving to that town
with people I trusted. I forgot to anticipate!
But am I making too much of it?
“We aren’t playing the race card;
we are analyzing the racialized deck. ... [M]any white Americans focus on an
individual card rather than attempt to make sense of how that card fits into
the larger deck” (Hart, 47).
Most white people I know – there may be exceptions here and there –
have never played with the racialized deck. They only have isolated experiences
upon which to draw from an unseen or even unnoticed deck. I play with an over
full deck of familiar cards built from decades of personal experience.
“People must first be able to
understand the patterns of the deck before they can understand the meaning of
one individual card. ... We must get familiar with the entire deck first before
we turn back to making sense of an individual card” (Hart, 52).
“Are you here for the AA meeting?” was said with sincerity
and concern. The speaker’s only desire was to be helpful and help me find my
way. What she did not understand was the history buried within, the judgment
behind it, the unconscious privilege proclaimed with it.
“Are you here for the AA meeting?” told me, “This space is
where we belong. You are an other. Your space is not with us.”
The meetings went well. This was a cordial group of people
who valued my input and made me welcome. But as my friends and I pulled out of
the parking lot to return home, I noticed one African American in his tweens
riding his bike and looking my way. I smiled.
I
saw the whole of Baltimore
From
May until December;
Of
all the things that happened there
That’s
all that I remember.
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