Before I Continue

Cliff near Moonlight Beach in San Diego, California

When I first began writing this blog I wrote mainly about how orthodox religion is keeping us from having a society in which all may participate. I really like some of the articles I wrote—I particularly like my views on the First Amendment. But after my brother died, I wanted to write about how Americans of European heritage (Whites) are missing the ball because either we don’t see racism, we don’t want to see racism or we simply are racists. This is very bothersome to me and I don’t completely understand it. I want to live in a society that values everyone (#Black Lives Matter). I want to live in a society in which all may have equal access to the benefits and protections that are supposedly offered to all Americans.

The reality is that I live in a society where only some people have the protections and benefits of being an American. The reality is that I live in a society in which people are feeling increasingly more comfortable calling for violence, people are feeling increasingly more comfortable trying to keep others from their constitutional rights and people are feeling increasingly more comfortable showing more allegiance to a party than they do to the United States government.

Many of us do not realize where we are standing. We are standing on a cliff that is capable of breaking off at any moment plunging us downward—or burying us beneath tons of earth and rock.

The current political fight between Hillary, Trump and Bernie (and their supporters/followers) is a fight that encapsulates everything going on in America today. It is a fight of orthodox religion against liberal religion and science, of White privilege against everyone else and male vs. female. This is a fight. But it doesn’t have to be that way. We don’t have to go down that road. We don’t have to fall off the cliff.

There are three very visible people in this struggle—Hillary Clinton, Bernie Sanders and Donald Trump. The first thing to realize in all of this is that this struggle is not about those three people. This struggle is about the supporters and the followers.

Two of the three people have followers. One of the three people has supporters. I am sure that you can pick out which of the two have followers—Bernie and Trump. I am sure that you can see that Hillary has supporters. This difference is very clear, and it is very telling.

When I listen to the followers of these two people I hear the followers say that they think only their person can take our society to where we need to go. “Only Trump can save us!” “Only Bernie can save us!” The fact that no one is saying this about Hillary gives me a lot of hope.

The other thing that is telling about this election is that both Bernie and Trump are revolutionaries. Trump has upended things already--and it is anyone's guess as to how his time as president will actually look. Bernie is calling for a revolution. He want government to work again. I like what Bernie has to say. But then I look at his followers.

It’s never about the revolutionary. It’s always about the followers. Look at Hitler. Without his followers, Hitler would have just been an angry little man who hated people. With his followers, Hitler’s ideas became one of the greatest killing machines ever. So without his followers, Trump is just a man who likes to do business deals. With his followers, we are seeing cries of hatred and calls for violence. We don’t yet know what will happen if we continue on Trump’s declared path, but we can see that it won’t be anything positive.

Bernie's followers seem to be people who want social change but they are also people who think only Bernie has the ability to bring about that change. Strikingly, Bernie’s followers say that Bernie is the one who started this revolution. But this simply isn't true. Bernie’s followers want change and they want it now--and if it can't be Bernie that leads us then they are going to throw a fit.

Hillary has supporters. This is part of the reason her campaign feels so different. Hillary’s supporters do not think Hillary is our savior. Hillary’s supporters do not vilify Bernie’s followers as many of Bernie’s followers have done to her. And while we may think that we know how Hillary will act as president we won't know until she is president. Look at Lyndon Johnson. He was a man who was difficult to get along with--someone who sat on the toilet while he was having meetings. But when Lyndon Johnson was president, he embraced the Civil Rights Movement. Lyndon Johnson accomplished many things while he was president. I don't think anyone could have predicted what kind of president he was going to be. 

Our society will be able to heal--and to move forward--if we join together. We must stop fighting. We must listen to one another--and we must participate.

Looking Back

New Housing in Denver in 2009

I’ve mentioned that there were very few African Americans living in Boulder when I was growing up. I know why. When I was young—maybe 10 years old we went over to my aunt and uncle’s house. They lived in the neighborhood Keewaydin Meadows. I remember hearing my dad and my uncle talking about how an African American couple had just moved into the neighborhood. I remember we drove past the house—it was on a small cul-de-sac. My uncle pointed out which house was now owned by African Americans. They talked about how upset the people living around them were. I can imagine how much heat that family had to take. I can imagine how difficult it was for this family and I wonder how long they were able to live in that house.

When I was an adult I worked at a company that provided medical care to seniors. This company happened to be in Denver, Colorado. I worked at this company when Mr. Barak Obama was elected president. The excitement was palpable, especially from our African American patients. During the celebrations we all began talking about the history of racism—and our conversation turned to segregation. I asked what they remembered most about segregation. There were two answers that surprised me most. The first surprise came from a woman who said that the lack of public restrooms was especially difficult. She talked of travelling in a car and the inability to relieve oneself made traveling not only difficult but frightening. She said that driving within the city was just as bad as driving across the country. No bathrooms make for a very short journey.

The second surprise came from a man who had lived in Denver in the 30’s and 40’s. He talked about the Red Lines. These were the streets which demarcated where African Americans could live. I remember that the man told us what the boundaries were but I had to look them up for this article. I found the information in a pdf from the Department of the Interior, and the National Park Service entitled “Historic Residential Subdivisions ofMetropolitan Denver.” On page 87 and 88 the document states that in Denver, African Americans were confined to the Five Points neighborhood, with York Street being the eastern boundary until 1954. After 1954 the boundary extended a few blocks to the East of York Street. (Denver Suburbs, p. 87 and 88.) At that time, the South Platte River was the western boundary for African American communities while 17^th Avenue was the southern boundary and the rail yards were the northern boundary. I have not yet found when these red line restrictions were lifted but the conversation between my uncle and my dad happened in the early 70's so I think red lining existed much longer than white people realize.

Other racial groups were reportedly not exempt from housing restrictions. The Historic Residential Subdivision document states that “Hispanics” were offered inferior public housing options at 12^th Ave and Federal Boulevard. Japanese Americans also had difficulties after being released from the internment camps of WWII. The Japanese Americans were forced to live in the same small neighborhood (Five Points) that the African Americans were crowded into.

Most damning of all (in my opinion) is the following paragraph (p.85):

Discrimination in access to well-built, affordable private housing was common in the metropolitan area during the years before the war. Denver-area black leaders, like those at the national level, possessed few options with which to counter unfair practices. In 1940, the Colorado Statesman, Denver’s African American newspaper, discussed the impact of red-lining, noting that housing choices for the community were limited to dated properties in need of extensive repair and improvement that sold for $2,500 to $3,000, and charged that: “Conversely, the real thing can be seen upon the fringes of our City, in the hundreds of new and attractive homes, containing all of the modern features, and priced at 4000 dollars.” Money for new houses could not be obtained to build houses “within this racial zone” due to deterioration of the existing properties and low wages of residents. The Statesman concluded, “Some months ago, the FHA offered citizens within this zone of racial encirclement an opportunity to rent and live in ‘new homes,’ the same as other people do, but a group comprising realtors, and others having selfish interest, blocked this movement.”470 A year later the Statesman noted the housing situation remained a “grave problem” due to racial restrictions.

Every African American that ventured outside those boundaries must have experienced something similar to what that Boulder family experienced. White people exercising their “right” to bully and intimidate those who they did not feel should live in their communities.

The neighborhood that I now live in has a little local newspaper that is published about once a month. A couple of years ago I remember reading a short article—just one paragraph in length. The article was asking people not to call the police when they saw an African American man walking down the street. The article reminded people that “African Americans live here too.”

This part of America and American culture needs to be healed. People should be free to live where they want to—and they should be free to live without others’ intimidation and threats of violence. Until we are able to heal this, I will feel deeply ashamed of this part of being an American. 

Now I Can See It

Poison Ivy--picture taken in Traverse City, Michigan by author

I grew up in Boulder. When I was in elementary school there were no African Americans in my classes--not a one. When I was in junior high (back then there were no middle schools in Colorado) I remember a couple of African Americans. Then in high school, there were a few more--maybe four people in the whole school. I remember thinking to myself, "I can't see any racism--it must not exist any more." Looking back, I can easily see the racism, but back then I couldn't.

In high school the afternoon bus would come to pick us up really late. School got out around 2:30 in the afternoon and the bus wouldn't pick us up until 4. To pass the time we would go to the rec center and play basketball. It was there that I met some African American boys. One of the boys, James, liked a friend of mine--Amy.

James had no interest in me whatsoever. But he really liked Amy--and so I got to know James a little. It just so happened that I worked at McDonald's and they had one of those loyalty things going on where the customer got a scratch ticket with every purchase. James really liked those scratch tickets and he really liked me to give him a few extra tickets each time he came in.

As time went on, the number of tickets that James wanted increased until I was handing him a stack of tickets every time he came in. This made me feel very uncomfortable and so I searched for a way to tell him I didn't want to give him tickets any more.

I remember I handed James the tickets and then said, "Now listen boy..."

James' face changed. He became extremely angry and he threw the tickets back at me. James said, "Don't you ever call me boy!" and he stormed out of McDonald's never to return while I was working.

I was baffled. What had happened?

I told someone who worked there what had happened and he said, "Boy is a term that whites used to use with slaves." I was stunned, embarrassed, and very remorseful all at once. I didn't understand how it was possible that I could have used a term like that without realizing what I saying.

I began to look for examples of people using the word "boy." I was astonished at how many instances I could find. On television I saw white men calling black men "boys" more times than I could count. I read books where white men were calling black men "boys." It was everywhere. Slowly, I began to realize that I had known exactly how to use to word "boy" when I was speaking with James. Even though I hadn't consciously picked up on what it meant, some part of knew exactly what I was saying. Racism was in me whether I wanted it to be or not.