I’ve experienced discrimination most of my life. Most of the time I just laugh it off. Not as some form of defense but because I truly found it amusingly ridiculous. I’m sure it helps that I am white. Or at least makes it easier to dismiss.
There is that one Cherokee bride four generations back on my Fathers side, but by looking at me, I’m white. Actually sorta tan, thanks to my full blooded Italian Mother. Maybe one reason I empathize with the down trodden is due to my own experiences and the fact that I just never got the division by skin tone, thing. Passing through Georgia at age 5 I was taunted for having long hair. I just laughed at their accents. Later in life I was told I would need to pay more rent because “long hair people throw parties”. See why I laugh?
Less funny was growing up in a big city where I was discriminated against because of my last name. See my father was the first person to “Beat City Hall”. Small reward for being shot in the back and paralyzed for life, while watching your two best friends simultaneously murdered by a drunk out of uniform police officer. So my name preceded me. Good thing I was a good kid. Not an angel by any means, but I never deserved the multiple trips downtown in the back of cop cars due solely to my surname. Good way to radicalize a citizen but for me it just made me acutely aware of injustice. And that, in America, you sure as hell do not need to be black to experience injustice, but it helps.
Now I live in Los Angeles and my first clue was the complete absence of prices on every single “For Rent” sign in every single neighborhood. This makes it easier to charge me more. Although most often my calls were just not returned. At least until I left a message in Spanish. In Glendale I was told to my face that they would only rent to Armenians. In Burbank an Armenian told me that he would only rent to non-Armenians. “Armenians are to much trouble” he lamented. In Hollywood I was told the back house was only available if I was a Scientologists. I think I laughed so hard at that one that my gut hurt. While trying to enroll at a Community College, my paperwork continued to get bogged down. The councilor informed me “if I was from another country I could be put on the fast track, for admissions”. In East L.A., the epicenter of a racist Los Angeles, I was charged double the menu price when I started speaking English. At the body shop, my $1000 quote turned into $3000 the instant they realized I was not Hispanic. Sometimes it takes a short while, as I am tan with jet black hair and do speak some Spanish. But it does not take long before my Spanish runs out and my Mid West soul shines through. Whatever, I never let haters live rent free in my head. And there are more important things and much worse prejudices than in my experiences. Minus the murder, corruption and cover-ups in my hometown of course.
But just this week the prejudices have turned on my 5 year old daughter. Day one of Kindergarten they did not have any parent literature in English. Okay, we rolled with it. At he parent teacher meeting I dared to ask, “what my child was doing during the 45 minutes of daily English As a Second Language studies”? “Is there any way she could be learning a second language as well during what equals almost 4 hours a week”? It is important to note that I asked this politely and have no issues with the teacher or her methods. She seemed quite nice. So last week I get called into the Principals office. Some things never change. I was informed that the teacher wanted to bounce my kid to another class because the teacher was “uncomfortable”. She claims she was upset that I dared to ask her how she was teaching the kids to draw the number “5”. I remember well the 9-second conversation as I was picking my kid up from class. I wanted to be sure we were on the same page as I was taught to draw from the top whenever possible so as to not lift the pencil off the page. (Also a better way to prepare for Cursive). Turns out, just as my child told me, she was learning a different way. Fine with me, now I know and will be sure not to confuse my kid when checking her homework. So the principal asked me to never speak with the teacher again. Seems she has some emotional issues. “Pobrecita”! This was disconcerting. How about some cold hard academia and less emotion? Especially considering I still did not have a problem or even stern words with this teacher. Now I am supposed to ask the Principal any simple question I have regarding my kids progress, the principal will ask the teacher and get back to me. Ridiculous. It is well known that the teachers Union is all about protecting teachers, not the education or welfare of our children. I can tell the principal is embarrassed. It seems there is a pattern with this teacher. English only students somehow get moved out of her class. I find it hard to laugh off something that involves my child’s education. So now I need to go over the principal’s head, report a teacher that I thought was otherwise doing a fine job.
Meanwhile my child is up for a spot at the USC Magnet School for the Arts. I am told that she will get “Minority Consideration” because she is White. I am a bit uncomfortable with that. I still judge differences by culture not by race. I could care less if America gets “Browner” or any other color. So long as we can share and celebrate our culture. I guess this is the new America. I sure hope the racism of L.A. is not the new normal. Either way I am getting her out of her current school. Maybe I’ll give the Community College a second shot and continue to grow my hair long. Arrivederci gli amici!
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