Mislabeled

A colorful bowl of fruity cereal.

My mind started reeling at the recollection of a conversation that happened about 33 years ago. The conversation started with a young black male labeling me to be a racist. In that moment, I had to tort back with, “You’re calling me a racist? Really? I am a black woman married to a white man and you are calling me a racist.”

It is not the first time I have been mislabeled, and while I have moved on beyond previous character labeling botches, this one sticks with me. Why? I don’t know. I think it is because it kind of hurts my feelings that someone would think I, Marlene Bertrand, judges people by the color of their skin.

To continue with the story let me say, this black man said yes he was calling me a racist because I did not marry a black man, and so by default, I am racist against black people. Well now, doesn’t that just beat all? Isn’t that stretching the concept of racism just a little too far? I mean, really?

Today I am thinking out loud about racism and what it really means.

Racism
What does the dictionary say about racism?
I went to Dictionary.com for the answer. Here is what it says:

"A belief or doctrine that inherent differences among the various human racial groups determine cultural or individual achievement, usually involving the idea that one's own race is superior and has the right to dominate others or that a particular racial group is inferior to the others."

Given the definition of racism, I am pretty sure I am not a racist person and I thought sharing with my accuser that I was married to a white man would secure my standing. It did not. This man was determined to take his accusations to the grave, maintaining that I was a racist to my own race. How am I to walk away from this racism argument a winner? I admit, I had to look at him sideways to see if he was pranking me. Was this a joke? No, he was serious. Sadly, there are people like him everywhere.

Accusation Artists
People throw accusations around like they are a piece of penny candy. Penny candy is cheap and anyone can afford it. I call people who go around accusing people of this and that, Accusation Artists.

What is my definition of an Accusation Artist? To me, an Accusation Artist is someone who, without legitimate evidence, and relying on nothing more than their own gut feelings, without rhyme or reason, randomly accuses people of things.

I think it’s unfair to lump everyone into a group accusation based upon the color of their skin so that suddenly, everyone with that skin color represents all the people of the nation who have that color of skin.

Don’t people know that skin color is determined by a person having a different level of melanin in the skin? It is not a basis for classification. It is simply a DNA thing.

But, let me move along with my thoughts.

I have to tell you that I am highly offended by the kind of classification and labeling that suggests that because I have more melanin in my skin that I am destined to be some predetermined person. The truth is, I am a self-contained individual. I do not represent a class of people. I represent me. I do not identify myself or others by their color of skin. I identify people by who they are – individually. And, my experience in life suggests that, for the most part, other people also identify people individually, as well.

​Encounter With Racism
Have I encountered racism? Yes. There have been several times I have run into people who did not know anything about me, but chose to disrespect me specifically because of the color of my skin.

Here are two incidents that stand out most prevalently in my mind.

1. Grocery Store Parking Lot. My husband and I parked in front of a grocery store and went inside to do a little shopping. When we returned, there was a note on the driver’s side of the door. The note said some pretty horrible things… like, telling my husband he should be ashamed of being with an ugly black baboon. The note went on to say that a white man who fraternizes with a black woman will burn in hell. Whoever wrote the note suggested that I go back to Africa because I am despicable.
   
   The letter went on and on and I could not help but feel sad for the person who probably sat in his or her car, feeling tortured by my presence to the point of writing  such a long and nasty note.
   
   Wasn’t there somewhere else he or she needed to be? Of course, the note bothered me. I was newly married to my husband and the thought of him having to go through this sort of thing because of me made me feel sad and burdensome. But, my husband was very good at turning things around and we made a ceremony out of burning that note as a way of conscientiously putting the incident behind us, never to let it interfere with our enjoyment of life.
2. Grocery Store Checkout. Once again, at the grocery store, I encountered what was the most direct, one-on-one display of racism. I was second in line at the checkout counter. The person in front of me placed that little divider bar on the conveyor belt behind her groceries. I placed my groceries behind the divider bar. While still in line, I hear a couple come up behind me. They were speaking in their German language, so I assumed they must be in the United States on vacation. Just as the cashier finished ringing up the order in front of me, this couple raced in front of me and placed their groceries on the conveyer belt in front of my groceries.
   
   The cashier politely told them that I was next in line. They became irate. The woman said, “But, she’s a black nigger!” The man demanded to the cashier, “You need to ring us up now.” The cashier refused and reiterated that I was next in line and she would ring me up first before ringing them up. She asked the couple to pick up their groceries and move to the line behind me. Well, needless to say, these people were very upset and the woman blurted out, “This is outrageous! This kind of thing would never be tolerated where we live.” Then, the cashier said something that made me stand up very proud and righteous. She responded back by saying, “Well, you’re in America right now, and in America it is our policy that we treat everyone with respect.”
   
   With that, the couple grudgingly got in line behind me. They were feverously talking loudly in German, so I don’t really know what they were saying, but it sounded like they were spewing out some fairly gnarly sentiments.

My friend Sindi shared some additional stories on what we, in our world, would classify as  "reverse" racism. You may read her stories in my blog titled, "Knock Knock."

We Are All People of Color
We are all Gods people. Do you think God chooses by color, which He is going to love? I don’t think so, friends. To God, who made us, we are all pleasant in His sight. He made us in multiple of colors and, like any Father, He expects us all to get along nicely.
Let's read Acts 10:34-35

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I now realize how true it is that God does not show favoritism, but accepts men from every nation who fear him and do what is right.

Unless we are God, we have no business judging and labeling people. We are just a bunch of people from all across the nation, of all colors, living in the same world.

Like a bowl of fruity cereal, color does not matter. Each bite is a mouthful of delicious fruit flavor. Friends, we come in many colors, shapes, and sizes, but when we come together for one another, we make up a fabulous nation.

Forget about the past. Burn all of the nastiness, just like my husband and I did with the note some sad individual tried to use to shake up our world. Let us put all the nastiness behind us and start a new, lovelier chapter in our life… a life where color does not matter… a life where color is just another shade of beauty.

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