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How do I look in profile?
In 2012, LOML and I were driving in Mississauga on a quiet, residential road. Suddenly, the ominous flashing lights of a police cruiser approached from the rear. LOML was driving and pulled over, wondering aloud “What the heck did we do.” As it turned out, we didn’t do anything wrong. We were the prey. And I use the word “prey” because that’s exactly what we were. We were driving a new, sleek, black, sporty coupe with dark tinted windows, we were prey in that neighbourhood. Both of us were a bit nervous, speeding wasn’t the issue. The officer came to the driver’s side window and before he had a chance to ask for “licence and registration” he let out a big belly laugh. He laughed without apology then took the IDs and went back to the cruiser. When he returned he smiled and said they were mistaken about the vehicle and there was mud on the plate. We were free to go. Well, there wasn’t any mud on the rear licence plate. The officer just didn’t expect two, white, senior citizens to be driving in that neighbourhood, in that particular type of car. They had no good reason to pull us over except that we fit their profile. “We” had been profiled. To this day, LOML and I wonder what would have happened had we, personally, fit the “police profile”. Two vehicles later, we’re still wondering what the heck might have happened to us that evening. These days, more than ever, it’s a scary thought. So, what’s my point?
Well, my point is, all of this isolating, and distancing, makes me think of the times my mom said, “Go to your room and think about what you said/did. And when you’re ready to talk about it, come out and see me.” Since mid-March the world has been in our rooms thinking and now, apparently, we’re ready to talk about it. For the last four weeks or so, we’ve been thinking a whole lot about social injustices, in particular, we’ve had lots of time to sit in our rooms and think about racism. It would be so easy to say, after centuries of time to think about it, we were on the path to solving the problem of racism, but we aren’t. And it would be easy to say what we’ve just been seeing on television and social media, recently, is just a blip because people are tense about the pandemic. But it isn’t about “the pandemic”. And, of course now we’re more aware of our racist behaviours, but mostly because people aren’t afraid to use their cellphone cameras to capture those incidents. For most victims, it’s the only way to prove a point. And there would have been a time when I’d have been the first person to say, “I’m not a racist. I love all people.” But now I’m ready to come out of my room and talk about that, too. It is difficult for me to say this, but “I am a racist.” Oh, I’m not the kind of person who screams “All Lives Matter”, but I had to think about why I wouldn’t. The first time I saw a “Black Lives Matter” placard, my thought was “But don’t all lives matter?” I, in that moment, was the person who looked around to see what others were saying. I, in that moment, had the presence of mind to read why “BLM” was a movement. Today, I know I’m ready to come out of my room and talk about racism and how I need to change my ways.
I was raised with, and by, people who openly remarked on social and cultural differences. I went to a Catholic elementary school, and the only people who weren’t white, Anglo Saxons in those classrooms were the white Europeans. My family fit the profile for the school I attended. My parents, my aunts, uncles, grandparents, my family’s friends and our teachers spoke of cultural and social diversities in terms of colour, country of birth, language, food and, you name it, but not in a good way. Mostly, the differences were considered to be wrong, funny or stupid. And you’re right, all of you people who think racism won’t go away because someone decided the Aunt Jemima brand needed to go away. It’s so much more than a label on a bottle of syrup, but the label is part of the problem. It’s a label. All of that is only the part of racism we see so often we have accepted as okay. I say, don’t be afraid to let your family and friends know when you think they’re demonstrating their inner racist.
Racism that infects the very structure of our society, is called systemic racism. Those insidious little things, like labels on syrup bottles And at first glance, it may be difficult to detect. After the incident in 2012, it took us a while to realize how horrible it could have been if LOML and I hadn’t been an elderly, white couple on their way to visit their son. We didn’t understand, right away, what had happened while we sat in our sleek, coupe. And that, my friends, is systemic racism, right there, all the time, and we didn’t even know it.
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