Race Relations

A few weekends ago I was invited down to Westminster (next to Huntington Beach) for some tennis with a player I formerly coached in high school. Afterwards he treated me to Thai food at one of his local favorites. You could sort of tell how authentic the food was by not only the cooks in the kitchen, but also the people (wall to wall on this day) savoring the delectable cuisine. Can't wait for seconds . . .

Before heading back to the IE's triple digit temps, made a detour to Newport, strolled down the pier and along the beach and was struck by the complete mix of races along the sand--happy families young and old, brown, black, yellow and white seemingly without a care in the world. A refreshing reminder of how this country can really show its true "colors" . . .not sure which was more satisfying--the wet sand beneath my feet, or this vision of racial reality which the media so often doesn't report on the evening news.

Fast forward to later that evening as I headed into the sanctuary for Sunday evening church. They say that Sunday church is the most segregated hour of the week in America, and while this might not be true in all cities at all churches, this seems to be true where I worship. I was reminded of the time one of my freshmen in English class, Chuck, had shared that his father was a pastor at a church in San Bernardino. I decided to visit one Sunday morning well over a decade ago. As I walked through the parking lot and into the sanctuary, I was greeted by smiling, joyful women in their Sunday best hats, surely wondering who this visitor was, and why had he chosen to join them on this particular day. As I took my seat in middle of the pews, I couldn't help but notice that I was the only white person in the entire church. At that moment, I realized what it must feel like for a person of color to be in a setting where they realize that they are "alone". Of course, in the comfort of a church, it was a feeling which brought not tension or apprehension at all--just an acute awareness of my "differentness". At one point the pastor, Chuck's dad, asked if there were any visitors that morning, and if so, would they please stand and introduce themselves. Sure enough, I was the only one. When I explained that I was Chuck Jr.'s English teacher, I remember soft chuckles rippling through the building--almost a collective sigh of relief to understand that no, this was not some high-ranking official of the Aryan Nation infiltrating our worship. I thoroughly enjoyed the three (!) hours we spent singing, laughing and praising God together.

In a few weeks I will return to my office as the 8th grade counselor for Golden Valley Middle School in San Bernardino. There is a very good reason why educators are given 3 months of vacation, and it is because I am about to enter into 9 months where the collision of white, latino, asian and black families, teachers and students will not always be peaceful. Yes, even with a mixed president in the White House, I am bracing for plenty of "action" during the upcoming school year.

Last year during a student gathering at my school called "Unity Forum", we showed the "I Have a Dream" speech by Martin Luther King. Afterwards, a student asked if I felt we had finally realized that dream of racial equality in America. My answer was simple: "As long as we live in this country, and as long as this country welcomes people of all cultures into its arms, we as a people will always struggle with the issues that racial diversity bring. Racial harmony is not a destination; it is a journey." Ok, I am paraphrasing my own words here, but that was basically how I answered this student's question. And it is nothing more than my own opinion; surely many might disagree.

In the aftermath of Michael Jackson's passing, I have, more than ever, come to appreciate his song "Man in the Mirror". The sentiment of that song, I believe, is crucial to landing a seat along this journey of race. Not sure about you, but I'll start with a long hard look in the mirror . . . .