Whistlin' Dixie

I discovered this weekend that racism is alive and well. It was made clear by several more Latino relatives and how they presented their preferences for McCain this fall. There is no way they would vote to put a black man in office, no matter what he stands for...and no matter that he's half white.

Ruben Navarette wrote today that it's preposterous to assert racism pervades the Hispanic voting bloc. And this is exactly why I blog -- because my local observations directly counter arguments such as these.

He could never admit in a public op-ed that racism is almost the sole component as to why Obama cannot claim the Latino vote. But the Franklin Monologues can admit it. I could also provide names and addresses. To even suggest a casual link between weak Obama support and racism is impossible for him -- so he changes the argument to suggest that the same charge isn't often levied against older white women. Uh-uh. Sure it is. Perhaps older white women aren't nearly as overt about their aversion to a black man in the oval office...but within a matter of minutes with my grandma, you'd find that argument falls apart as well.

I don't see any reason to hold back on presenting my observations, no matter how personal or controversial they might be. There are certain interpretations, of course, that might best be left off the blog, and I'm wondering about how to handle them going forward. But I'm all about criticizing others, and no one is spared, not even myself.

Three weeks ago I was biking home on Franklin, just about a mile north of home. The two miles closest to home are the best I have on my commute, because the road is wide and smooth and there are much fewer cars. With the fewer cars, however, comes a situation I don't want to be in -- alone at an intersection with only one other car with three black men inside.

For sure, I'm also worried about the lone white alpha male who had earlier been inconvenienced by my slowness, or three Asian gangbangers, or two Hispanic women. But this white boy on a bike is a helluva lot more concerned by a car with three black guys. Why? I don't really know. It's not a crime for me to worry about this. The point is, I have an aversion to that situation more than any other...and the hairs on my neck will attest. And any black bicycle commuter, if I ever come across one, will likely have a completely different take. A blue truck flying a Dixie flag comes to mind.

So this situation appeared out of nowhere, I didn't have any time to react...not that I could react either way. All I think about is an exit, how not to be crushed. I am best left to avoid any confrontation, but ignoring their presence also has its drawbacks.

As a kid on Greenwood Avenue, at Wyman, I was chased down and intentionally hit by a green Honda CVCC. It was early evening, I thought they were just taunting me until the last moment. I ignored them, and I didn't expect to be hit. I very easily could have been crushed then and there. The bike was thrashed. And for weeks, months! afterwards, I became much more aware of my surroundings, worrying about some damn green car.

So is racism a component of why I fear three black guys in a car more than anything else? Perhaps. I don't live in a black neighborhood, and I have no intention of living in or near a black neighborhood. Racism? Perhaps.