Reflected Essay - My Racism

Freshman year I enter the school of engineering after deciding that would be the major I would want to pursue. I could learn about all the engineering that goes into electronics. Since I was a kid, I loved playing around with my father’s stereo. I would take it apart and put it back together. RCA cables, speaker cables, and radio antenna wire would be cast across the floor while I set up a new stereo. Music has always been the driving force in my interests and creativity. I figured; if I go to school and become an electrical engineer, I can learn all there is about signal processing, and the way vocal processors work, and how computers and cool electronics could allow me to create, produce, mix and master music. To work for Skywalker Sound, or Industrial Light and Magic was my biggest goal.

So my first semester consists of Engineering Analysis, Chemistry 1, Physics 1, Calculus 1 and a few labs. This schedule coupled with breaking up with a girlfriend, living in a single room (and being extremely lonely), playing a lot of ultimate, and being assaulted, I manage to come out first semester standing on top of a whopping GPA of 1.79. I decide to give engineering another semester and with some hard work, a little less ultimate, getting back with my girlfriend, and finding a new church and fellowship, I end my second semester with a 3.04, thus ends my freshman year and my pursuit of an engineering degree.

I spent that summer at home asking myself many personal questions about life, about relationships, about church and liked those questions. That’s when I decided that maybe philosophy is for me, but reading all that metaphysics is extremely draining and isn’t for me. So I switch once again to learn more about my favorite class thus far at college; psychology. Perhaps I can pursue a teaching degree considering the fact that I have loved teaching kids and being a camp counselor. Why not? I can do that and get by. My parents, knowing my personality better then I do at times, noticed that teaching would be a good place for me, but questioned if that would be the thing to make me truly happy.

I had always been in love with music. I have a recording studio in my basement that my best friend and I set up. I have been spending all my free time at the recording studio at the radio station where I work. My parents had notices that my heart truly is in creating and being around music. A major change was imminent. After discussion about the feasibility of a career in the music industry, I decide that I should take some business classes to become better prepared for the industry, and to have a credible degree that I can use if the music industry didn’t work out.

Feeling overwhelmed by the idea of business school, I kept all my psych courses and took my first business class: Micro-economics. I learned something very valuable in that class: I hate dealing with money. It makes me uncomfortable. The ideas and principals and the ethics behind business had no room to resonate in me. Out of all the other majors I attempted, none left me so sure of what I did not want to do as business. I’m not taking another business class and with the credits I had from past semesters, I officially declare my major in the school of Psychology.

After a long summer, I am just about ready to head back to Pittsburgh to start my junior year at the University of Pittsburgh. I really miss my friends, my youth group, my church, and psych classes too. I’m ready to get into my college life again. The church I attend is called The Open Door and we just recently moved from Oakland Pittsburgh, to the East End of Pittsburgh. We moved into a partly renovated church which acted as a community center for the arts, community builders and people of faith. The church building used to be the Union Baptist church, but had been abandoned for 6 year before members of the East End, East Liberty, Highland Park, Friendship, and other Pittsburgh neighborhood decided to buy the church, renovate it and turn it into The Union Project. I was pretty excited when my church moved into this building. It was old, it was in bad shape in some places, but renovated in others. Some of the stained glass windows had been broken from years of neglect and thrown stones, while other windows were completely restored by paying volunteers. This building was saved by volunteers and when I heard that there were volunteer opportunities at the building following service on Sunday, I was even more excited for my first trip to the Union Project.

Sunday at 5:30pm I waited at the corner of Neville and Center for the bus to come down the hill to pick me up and take me right to Union Project. I had never been on this bus, or been down towards this end of Pittsburgh. I had barely heard of the East End, or East Liberty and Highland Park. I was in for a bit of a culture shock. As we drove down center and turned onto Negley I could see this neighborhood was different. The second we crossed over Penn Avenue, orange eviction notices and condemnation notices were plastered to the front doors of dilapidated houses. People stood on the sidewalks in clothes that spoke of a lower economic bracket then the one I was familiar with. Everyone was black.

I felt uncomfortable, and I knew it, because this was a bad neighborhood. It wasn’t bad because the neighborhood was black, or because of anything I could put my finger on, but I could feel it. I knew there were drug problems, and these people, were all suspect. I was going to church in this neighborhood and our presence and our mission was going to build this community up and make it a better place. In side the walls of our church building I was safe with familiar faces, familiar music, and with others who had a heart for helping this community. I was there to help people, to make East Liberty better, to help this impoverished community. It never dawned on me that I was racist.

My thoughts on racism; I can not be racist! Its impossible. I grew up in affluent white-bread Doylestown where all my friends where white and I, ME… I was a minority. I’m Hispanic! I can’t be racist! To say that a boy who grew up in a very accepting community with white friends, Italian friends, Mexican friends, a black friend or two (there aren’t many African Americans in Doylestown), I was a MINORITY… along from meaning not the majority, I’m almost certain that it means that you cant be racist… at least for me. Working in East Liberty was going to change this view forever.

Racism. The definition of racism is the discriminatory or abusive behavior towards members of another race, or the prejudice that members of one race are intrinsically superior to members of other races. What I have found is that racism can be split into two different types; overt and aversive. Overt racism is what we have all seen or thought about as stereotypical racism. Overt racism is the blatant expression of hatred towards another race. These types of actions were exemplified during the civil rights movement. As an individual growing up in a mainly white community, yet very affluent and somewhat aware of the diverse world around them, stressed an outlook on life that provided equality to all races and excluded no one because of race, religion, or creed. Being Hispanic in this type of environment let me to believe that I held no racism in my personality. I felt that my life in Doylestown and life in Pittsburgh at the University of Pittsburgh prepared me with an outlook towards others that did not consider their skin color a necessarily important part of their personality. However, neither Doylestown nor Pittsburgh prepared me for the aversive racism i would disseminate to those around me in East liberty.

Aversive racism is basically a mistrust based falsely in prejudice. To be more specific, let me illustrate this through the first story I told about my trip to the Union Project. As I sat on the bus looking out the window at the poverty and the dilapidated homes, I began to notice the people who inhabited this neighborhood. Everyone was black. I was told that this was a bad neighborhood, and I assumed that a few rotten eggs ruined the whole bunch, but to be safe I was weary of everyone.

I knew where my wallet was

I had keys in my pocket

What if I got jumped?

How close was the Union Project from the bus stop?

Is that guy going to hassle me, mug me, hurt me?

Hein sight being 20 20, I look back and realize that these questions were ridiculous. But honestly, what was I thinking? I was afraid of every black person I passed, or at least prejudice that they were up to no good. I assumed so many things about this bad neighborhood. These people had no money, they lived in a very dirty neighborhood, they made me feel uncomfortable, and I knew why, and I knew that it was wrong. It’s one of the hardest lessons you will ever learn, it’s even worse when someone comes out and says you’re racist.

Luckily for me, when I was told I was racist, I was one of many, in fact, I was one of the congregation at church. And not only were the white folk racist, but so were the Hispanics, and the African Americans, and the young and old. Most of us came from an affluent area and had brought with us our prejudices to East Liberty that those less fortunate then us, and black, were “intrinsically superior to members of other races” Perhaps not all of us believed that our “race” was superior, but it was hard to deniy that because of our economic status, we didn’t feel that we were financially and maybe even culturally “superior” to members of a lower economic status.

Classism. The definition of classism is a bias based on social or economic class. The way I understand classism is the same way I understand racism. To borrow from the definition of racism, I would explain in as thus: the discriminatory or abusive behavior towards members of lower economic status, or the prejudice that members of financial security are intrinsically superior to members of a lower economic bracket. What I find amazing about this definition is that it does not say the poor, it only mentions members of two different financial statuses. Classism exists between the rich and the middle class, the middle class and the minimum wage worker, and the poor and financially ruined. I am a strong believer that money has the potential of causing and event assuming an evil nature. Those who have it don’t want to lose it, and those who have none can go to great lengths to attain it.

My prejudice nature was rooted in both aversive racism and classism. Let me explain. I was fearful of the black neighborhood of East Liberty because they were worse off then I. I have money, opportunity, education, and the ultimate advantage of being a student – no responsibility. I have. East Liberty does not. This is the friction between un, and what instilled an underlying sense of fear.

Looking deeper into the meaning of these words, it became clear that I was two things, aversively racist and suffered from classism. My racism and classism has since dissipated since the beginning of the semester, but only because of constantly putting myself in situations in which a personal relationship was necessary. For example; I used to believe that all the people begging for money on the street were homeless. Their dingy clothes and strong smell led me to believe this. Is it that far of a stretch to believe that the men and women begging for money are homeless?

This is when I met Kevin on the steps of GNC in Oakland. (Now I know this paper is all about East Liberty, but really its about me being racist and getting over it… so bear with me on this one.) While walking down the streets of Oakland and East Liberty I would pass people asking for money and would grab my pockets as if to signify that I am looking for money, but don’t have any to give. Sometimes, I wouldn’t even do that. Looking forward and pretending not to hear was easier then feeling guilty about their position. I was tired of dealing with the heartbreaking stories that were lies. I had been taken advantage of before. I had been the victim of complicated stories and money making con’s before. I felt it was easier to ignore the entire population then to listen to one and be taken advantage of. Learning more and more about my prejudice with the homeless, I knew that I had to make an effort to change. The homeless, the beggars on the street have a story, and not many want to listen. It became my prerogative to listen to their stories, no matter how outlandish.

Back to Kevin – Kevin is a middle aged man who sits on the stoop of GNC on Thursday nights. I saw him there and once again I had no money in my pockets, so when he asked me for any spare change, I immediately went into my no change dance – pat my pockets, grab my wallet, shrug my shoulders and say, “sorry, I’ve got nothing.” This time I didn’t walk away.

“Can I pray for you?” I ask. I truly wanted to know about this man, and he let me know it. He told me about his friends and about his brother, his wife, his 3 sons, his court date, his minimum wage job. I asked him about having a place to stay.

“Oh, I have a home, I’m not homeless, I live with my brother,” he said. My first prejudice, all beggars are homeless, was no longer valid. I was glad I was proven wrong so fast. It is truly a testament to God’s ability to soften your heart. Kevin works at Taco bell outside the city. He makes minimum wage and comes into Oakland to beg for money because he cant make enough working at taco bell. He also doesn’t want his customers or his superiors to see him begging for money on the streets. His child support for his 3 children is +900 a month. Minimum wage does not cover that. On top of it all, he’s an alcoholic. Most of the time I see him is before he has begun drinking, but I trust him, and I know he trusts me. We see each other now 3 or 4 times a week. Sometimes he’s good, sometimes he’s bad. I shake his hand and sit with him each time. He thanks me for that because no one stops to talk to the people on the streets. It’s taboo to touch one of them. That’s a lie prejudice has give us. Touching them gives shows them God’s love. I truly believe in that.

Kevin truly helped me tear down many walls in my life. And with that, I took this new knowledge with me on the bus to East Liberty where I met another man named Kevin, but he likes to go by Special K. Special K is black, comes to my church, and I see him walking around the streets of East Liberty every day. Every Day. Now what makes this different then Kevin in Oakland and Special K in East Liberty is that in Oakland, I am a student at the University of Pittsburgh, and Kevin comes in to get money from the affluent students. Special K lives in East Liberty. He isn’t homeless, he doesn’t beg, he wears ratty clothes, lives in the drug infested part of the neighborhood, and to him, I am the outsider. I am not black, I am not poor, I am not getting by, I am affluent. He could care less that I am a student. All he knows is that I am better off then everyone else in East Liberty, and I don’t do drugs or sell them. Yet Kevin and I are friends. He waves to me with that toothless smile every time he sees me. He likes not know how I’m doing, what I’m up to, if I will be at church on Sunday, if there will be food there, and if I’m happy.

I paused to ask myself one day after I started stripping away my prejudice and my racism. Why do I not feel prejudice towards Special K? Why do I not feel racist towards him? Am I covering it up? Perhaps. What I concluded was that Special K actually enjoyed my company and my conversation, and that I had things to provide that he didn’t. I was economically sound to him, and he was economically lost to me. He is black, he is toothless, he takes the clothes from the lost and found, and he likes me. I am affluent, Hispanic, dress nicely, work at the Union Project, and don’t have many responsibilities. We get along so well because we are relational, we are personal and caring of each others different and seemingly foreign situations. I have grown because of my in ability to understand where he comes from or what he’s been through. For right now, after spending 4 solid months in East liberty, I am satisfied with not understanding, yet actively questioning my surrounding and the people I encounter. I was not accepting of my prejudice and racism. It leaves no room for questioning and growth. I hope there is a point where I will be able to have more relationships with the people in East Liberty and perhaps even understand their dispositions, their lives, their joy and their pain. As of right now, I am relived and satisfied with the shedding of my fear and prejudice and look forward to the personal relationships I will have the ability to start because the walls of racism, prejudice and classism have been shed. I can only pray for the opportunity to stay in East Liberty at the Union Project and the Open Door to continue this growth.

It’s the end of my junior year. I am finished my first internship at the Union Project and am looking forward to another 2 semesters interning at the Union Project with either the UP program it self, or the church that resides there, The Open Door. I will graduate next spring of 2007 with a degree in Psychology and will move on to the Pulse House, a Mennonite housing group that supplies young adults community internship opportunities for community and spiritual development. After a year of community service, I look to continue ministry through the church and hope to attend seminary to get a Masters in Divinity. I cherish my personally relationship with God and Christ and thank him for the blessing I have had this semester working at the Union Project.