Undercover Racists

I really hate when white people think that just because you are also white that you believe the same racist thoughts they believe.

In talking to men I'm going to have to get better at dragging this sort of thing out of them if I'm going to ever go back to white. What...it could happen.

Case in point:

I'm out with Dora and we're talking to two men who say they are from Orland Park. I'm not fond of the South Side. I have this idea that it's racist. I don't know where I get that from. I'm trying not to judge people because of their neighborhood and they're pretty funny so we talk a bit. Some really pretty black girls walk by and the Taller one, Mike, says. "They're hot." I agree with him and he follows it with a story. "I was dating this girl in college and she took me to her home town in Kansas one weekend to meet the family and half of them were black." I'm nodding, maybe he was expecting a reply like, "NO! What did you do?"
He continues, "so I had to break up with her. You'd never know it by looking at her but what if it got more serious and we got married and had kids. You know? I just couldn't take that chance."
Now my head is bowed and I'm shaking it. "What? Would you?"
I say, "um...my husband is black."
"What? No! Really?"
"Yes, really." His friend is not even trying to bail him out and he begins to take on more water.
"A black guy? I'd never picture you marrying a black guy."
WTF? Why do people say shit like that?
I say, "Well it was nice talking to you."
Ok, get this...he says, "No, what? You're leaving? I won't hold it against you. I teach at an all black school."
I didn't think it could get worse. Those poor kids.

So how do you tell and undercover racist? What questions do you use to bring it out of them?

What was I thinking?

Whining about a missing bumper magnet?

I just got my President. My dreamy President!!

Keep the magnet.

Early Voting

It was the second to last day of early voting. I waited, with many others for nearly two hours to cast my vote and the experience was moving.

I live on the West Side of Chicago and found the nearest location through the Chicago elections website. The Westside Learning Center is on the 4600 block of Madison Avenue. I am often the only white person in businesses that surround my house, my neighborhood is extremely segregated and mostly African American. Perhaps this is why I was so moved while waiting with the others to vote. We were given colored cards with numbers on them. A voting commissioner would call out in intervals, "Orange cards, numbers 66, 67, 68, 69....." I was red 23, I had a while to wait.

There was a sense of solemn importance among us, a sense that we were participating in a historic election and we were happy. We were hopeful, we were part of something big. We waited and waited and waited. No one complained about the wait. In fact, we were downright jovial about it. I listened as the lady across from me described her favorite dish at a Jamaican restaurant when the lady next to me started laughing and said, "she's talking about food." We all laughed and shared our common hunger.
"Let's all meet up there afterwards!" Joked one young man.

People passed the time by quietly talking, texting, just sitting. There were a few children waiting quietly with their parents. No children cried or whined or ran about misbehaving. As if they sensed the importance of it all as well.

I don't pray very often. I say my nightly thanks before falling to sleep but other than that...nope, not much. Only when I really need to reach out. Like when Kira had Cancer, when my mom was in the hospital, when I thought Tessa was going to die, when I first felt the impact of the word divorce. Important times, like this election. So I sat in my chair and said a prayer.

When my number was called the first time I didn't hear it, I was deep in thought or prayer or something. Then it was called again. I was able to enter another room where the polls were. I was led by a voting comissioner to a poll and she held my arm on the way explaining the process of the touch screen to me. I actually got chills as I entered my vote.

I left that place smiling and was greeted by a man waiting outside with his yellow card "77." He flashed it at me and said, "I'm the last one today!" I smiled and said, "make it count, my friend!"

Someone Stole My Obama Magnet!!

Right off my car!!!

There's a cleaner than the rest of the car spot where it used to be and a hole in my Democratic heart.

Who would do this? Another Obama supporter? Nah...how could they?

A McCain supporter looking to break an Obama lover's heart? Is it a sign? A sign that another disappointment may lay ahead? That there just may be a way They can steal this election too?

Please don't let it be so.

Obama Rally

On Tuesday I received an Email from the Obama people inviting me to the Election rally in Grant Park. I'm on their mailing list because I bought a cool magnet for my car from them, an Obama T-shirt, and have given several times to the campaign. I was so excited to receive the invite that minutes afterward I was filling in the blanks to get my ticket emailed to me.

All I've heard from them since is requests for more money. I'm trying not hold this against Barack, I know he's not in charge of his email. But I can't help but feel a bit slighted. I'm sure there are people who gave more to his campaign, but are there any who have started as heated an email fight between they and their brothers over Obamam? Whatever...

I don't care...I just wanted to be there with everyone else who cares as much about this election as I do. Wether he wins or loses I wanted to be in the spot where it was felt most. The joy or the sadness. I wanted to feel it.

And now, I don't even have my magnet anymore. Guess it'll be me in my vintage style Obama t-shirt at a bar somewhere biting my fingernails until the end.