I'm late to this particular topic, I know, but I had to take time to organize my thoughts a bit. Especially since now I've read some of my lj friends thoughts on the subject.

I don't consider myself racist, though now and then something strikes me that makes me wonder about my somewhat cavalier attitude toward the whole issue of race. Yes, I was born white, raised protestant in a middle class (some might say upper middle) family. But by the time I was old enough to be aware that some people are different from myself (as in darker of skin, or different in worship, or poorer or richer or any number of suce things), my family moved from a predominantly white town to a predominately Mexican town. I was only seven, and I never thought of my new neighbors as being anything but like me. Oh, some things were obvious (I was taller, and my hair was definitely lighter in color, they spoke a little differently), but we played the same games, laughed at the same jokes, went to the same schools...

The city I grew up in consisted of people in the following proportions: about 80 percent Mexican heritage, about 15 percent "Anglo" (meaning the non-hispanic folks) and about 5 percent whatever else. I think there were five black families, and I only ever met about five black students total in my before college schooling. We had some Native Americans, some Asian, and some sub-continental Indian, I know. I remember getting upset--nay, angry!--when I heard derogatory jokes or comments about Mexicans, since the vast majority of my friends were Mexican. My brother's first wife was Mexican American (both of her parents were born and raised in Mexico). I remember being totally flabbergasted when my mom admitted to me that she suddenly realized she was bigoted when she first learned that Don was going to actually marry Sylvia. She said, "I teach them, I go to church with them, I think they're fine, smart people. But that my son wanted to marry one of them?" I would never have thought that she felt that way, and she did learn and get over it, but still...my own mother!

College was my first real contact with a population was majority white. It was odd, really. And I was really excited to know that my first roommate was a Native American (Pima, I believe was her tribe). I wanted to know more! It was also a time when I actually met and made friends with a goodly number of blacks (something I had no opportunity to do in my old neighborhood). I hung out with all types (well, okay, mostly music major types, but with the classes I took, what else could I do?), and they came in all races. I never really paid attention to what they were--I was more interested in how good a musician they were. The majority were white, yes--as I mentioned at the start of this paragraph, the school was a majority white one. But again, thinking back on those years, I don't think I thought anything of someone being different just because of their race. I can't say that "some of my best friends were..." because that, to me, is just silly. Some of my best friends were my best friends. Color/race had nothing to do with it. I do know that one of the first people I ever met with perfect pitch was black. But that's a rare gift, and not tied into any one race. (I've only known 3 personally who were able to do that...no matter who, that always amazed me.)

Let me think...after college it was back to home, so back to being the "minority" (if someone who is born white ever truly is treated as a minority). Then I joined the Peace Corps, and was stationed in Yemen, where once again I was a minority--this time a minority of not just race (not being Semitic) but of religion (my Christian to the country's Muslims) and gender (my female--with western female mores--to the country's male, decidedly traditionally Arab mores). Not to mention having to learn another language on top of things. My only saving grace was that I was a teacher, and the Muslim community values teachers.

Back home again, and after that here where I am yet again in the minority (now my white-Christian to the area's Navajo-Native Church). I can with all sincerity say that the vast majority of my life I have lived where whites were *not* the majority. Granted, I suppose, it's hard to eradicate that "white privilege" attitude. But so far as is possible, I believe I have done so.

To bring this home, I have asked myself the following: Would I ever have a person of X race/culture/background/sexual orientation as a close personal friend? A lover? A husband? (0k, the sexual orientation doesn't really work there, does it?--except the friend bit.)

I like to think my answer would always be "Yes," though as far as religion is concerned I doubt I would marry anyone who didn't at least believe something similar to myself. But so long as he considered himself a Christian (of whatever flavor), I like to think that wouldn't matter so much.

Thus, in the overal scheme of things, I think I'm about as unracist as you'll find. That isn't to say that I may be deceiving myself, or that when actually confronted with a real rather than hypothetical situation I might renege on that belief.

I do think it's a good idea to face this question now and then, as a reminder that sadly, racism does still exist in our world.