People who know that I write about race and civil rights sometimes wonder if I see racism and prejudice everywhere, all day. To the contrary, whenever any incident occurs around me I try to observe as neutrally as possible -- realizing objectivity in these matters is impossible. Random encounters may be more material for my next book. The end of the year is a great time for witnessing these moments, because people are out and about, bumping into strangers more than usual, simultaneously festive though agitated.
Here are two stories I share for reaction. I set forth the facts from my perspective, with minimal editorial comment.
In Washington, D.C., I went to a Sunday matinee of Cole Porter's Kiss Me Kate. I was by myself, seated on the aisle; my wife was visiting old friends. In the full theatre, there was a group of three people next to me. They were white, perhaps in their sixties.
I could not help but overhear one explain to the others, who were agreeable, that she was offended that she felt she had to say "happy holidays" during the season. As a Christian, she would prefer to say, "Merry Christmas."
She understood "happy holidays" was deemed more polite. But it suppressed her beliefs.
Furthermore, she was irate that in school, the teacher taught the students -- I did not quite hear whether she was talking about a grandchild -- to use "happy holidays" to be considerate. She believed it was inappropriately political.
Of course, I should mind my own business. And I did. I would guess, however, that this individual's sentiments are much more common than those who disagree with them likely register.
Later, at the St. Louis airport, my wife and I were waiting to check in. We were in the priority line. (My wife received a great offer on a credit card that included this perk; we aren't wealthy.)
Since it was the "holiday season" (or, if you prefer, Christmas), there were more travelers than usual. That meant a wait even for premium passengers. In front of us were two African Americans, apparently a couple; ahead of them, a South Asian family with multiple pieces of luggage. My wife is Japanese American, third-generation; I'm Chinese American, also native-born.
Behind us was a white woman who was visibly in a hurry, as people often are before flying. She said, to nobody in particular, "Is everybody here supposed to be in this line?"
The African American woman said to the African American man, "She isn't talking about us, I'm sure."
The implication, that some or perhaps all of us were interlopers among the first-class and "gold" status, is an example of asymmetry in perceptions. The white woman probably was not aware of what she had suggested, much less the connotations. It could be regarded as trivial, or a significant sign of worse; the term "micro aggression" is perfect for both the prefix ("micro") and the main concept ("aggression") -- it calls for the quick judgment of allowing it to pass or making a fuss.
The venue itself has a racial history that may look to be the opposite of what it is. The Lambert airport has a mural entitled Black Americans in Flight. A casual viewer might suppose that the display is the result of separatist activism, but it is the opposite. After a larger painting was unveiled in the terminal, showing no African Americans, a group of Tuskegee Airmen organized a drive to demand that they be, literally, part of the picture. The campaign was for inclusion, instead of exclusion.
These experiences inform me about our diversity. We claim to celebrate our differences. Our respect for one another requires constant effort. It does not come easy.