A Window into Race Relations

Our Labor Day weekend was chock full of activity. Apparently riding the wisdom of making the most of a long weekend, we went to the beach on Friday, went to a barbecue hosted by friends from our old church on Saturday, went to another barbecue hosted by current members of our Bible Study on Sunday, and then ate barbecue at my Pastor's house on Monday. Needless to say, it was weekend of fun, friends and a gastronomic delight, even if it didn't exactly fit into my plan to reverse the effects of cruise-induced gluttony. It was a fitting last hurrah for us and the kids before they got back in the groove with another year of school.

We also had an interesting encounter on Saturday which left me thinking a little about how race matters, and how racial sensitivities play themselves out in everyday life. Our friend Charlotte had taken us to a public lakeside beach a few minutes away from her house, and upon getting there, an older 60-something Caucasian gentleman - apparently the wristband-giving park cashier - asked Charlotte if she was a resident. She answered in the affirmative, and after counting the adults in our party, the older gentleman charged us a "local fee" and handed her a set of bracelets. Then it got weird.

An older Hispanic gentleman who was hovering nearby went apoplectic and rushed up to confront the older Caucasian cashier. 

"Aren't you going to check this lady's identification?" demanded the Hispanic man.

The Caucasian man ignored him.

"How do you know she's a resident? Why does she get the resident rate?" continued the Hispanic man.

The Caucasian man, visibility irritated, hissed at the man to back off.

The Hispanic man persisted. "If you ask identification, you need to ask it for everybody!"

The Caucasian man, obviously annoyed, apologetically asked Charlotte for her address, which she gave him, and told him that her wallet was back at her car in the parking lot.

The Hispanic man kept going, "Why do you only ask us for identification? Why doesn't she need to show her driver's license?!!"

At this point, the Caucasian man relented and apologetically asked Charlotte for her license, which I volunteered to retrieve for her.

As I walked back from her car with her license, the Hispanic man walked up to me and talked to me in a conciliatory tone (even though I wasn't angry), telling me that this wasn't personal, at which point the Caucasian gentleman (who was flat out furious at the Hispanic man) screamed at me to ignore the Hispanic gentleman.

The license was shown, and we were ushered in without further incident. Later on the drive home, my wife and I talked about what transpired.

I surmised that this Hispanic gentleman felt that he and his family were racially profiled as they tried to enter this same public beach. There were separate rates for residents and non-residents, and I guess while others were taken at their word regarding their resident status, this Hispanic gentleman and his family were asked to present identification which obviously revealed that they were not residents.

My wife was irked that the gentleman decided to make this big stink using us and our friends as the fodder for his self-righteous rage. The fact that a bunch of young kids had to stand around and witness this bothered her, and at the end of the day, he was rightfully paying the non-resident rate and our party was rightfully paying the resident rate. 

I acknowledge that he could have handled the situation a lot better, but was more sympathetic that when you've felt racially profiled and marginalized, judgment gets cloudy and you become less bound by good sense, which would remind one of things such as "don't scream at and confront other people in front of a bunch of little kids." When you encounter someone who you believe is racially discriminating against you, the visceral reaction is intense rage.

Sarah also noted that we were also ethnic minorities and were treated well, and I responded with my theory that racial prejudice is rarely applied equally across all minority groups. When considering the stereotypes that plague my particular ethnic group, we don't get followed for suspicion of shoplifting merchandise and people don't cross to the other side of the street in fear of getting mugged by us. No, my ethnic group is plagued by things such as the assumption that we're good at math, know karate or are good followers but not good leaders. Or to be blunt, in many racially prejudiced eyes, Asians are the "relatively good minorities" or the "relatively desirable minorities" - the one who will boost housing values as we move into the neighborhood and jack up average SAT scores in the school district. I sympathize with my Hispanic and African-American friends. We may be minorities, but the burden of the prejudice against us is not the same.

Sarah and I also discussed how I would've handle it better. I think for one, you can rarely win by confronting someone of racism directly and in the moment. For example, I read that it's never effective to claim racism to reverse a judgment (take for example, getting a traffic ticket from a cop). Telling the cop, "you only pulled me over because I'm (insert race here)" is a surefire way of getting the ticket because if the cop relents, it has the appearance of validating your claim. I think the more effective way is to observe (document and record as much as possible) a pattern of discriminatory behavior and report it directly to the supervisor, making it clear that you'd be happy to follow up and provide further information as needed. Continue to escalate up the ladder as need be. The key is to document and go "above" the problem person.

At the end of the day, I don't know exactly what happened that afternoon and I can't say for certain that I know the motivations of the heart of the Caucasian cashier or the Hispanic man. But it's clear that racial tension isn't just something that's a deep south phenomena. And it's sad to see.