And another thing...

While I was in Atlanta at the National Catholic Youth Conference, which was an admittedly very good trip and I had a really good time, something occurred that got me to thinking.

It was at the closing mass. I'd already noted that most people in attendance were white, but it somehow slipped my attention that, similarly, most of the presenters and performers were also white. I really noticed it when a young black man got up to read the second reading of the mass. He spoke with a very "black" voice, which kind of made me breathe a sigh of relief. It was refreshing to have even a little bit of diversity. It made me happy.

Until the little white girls all around us started laughing at him.

Now, this was happening in the Georgia Dome, although granted not all of it. There were about 25,000 people at this mass, I think. And the section I was sitting in was far enough from the reader that there was no way that he could have noticed the idiots up in my section. Except that he paused in his reading right about the time it started. Which led me to believe that this was happening in other areas as well, including an area that he could see.

I was fuming.

And I was silent.

The thing is, I've dealt with racism before. The other thing is that I work with teenagers. One of the biggest parts of my job is to call teenagers on their crap. As a matter of fact, I was just now interrupted writing this entry so that I could call teenagers on their crap.

I'm good at it, even.

So, yeah. I'm sitting here during this mass, stewing in anger, and knowing that I have to say something. So I decide that I'm going to do it during the rite of peace, so that I can begin and end by offering them peace so that maybe they'd be forced to actually think about what I said, rather than just writing me off as the bitch that yelled at them during mass.

And as that time nears, I realize that I"m shaking. But I'm not shaking in anger. I'm nervous. I was actually scared to lean over and tell these teenagers that they were behaving in an unacceptable manner by laughing at this black man just because he read gospel in a different voice than them.

But I call teenagers on their crap for a living. Why am I so scared to deal with this one problem in particular?

Dude, racism really makes us white people uncomfortable. We keep thinking that it's not our problem, that people of color are the ones who have to deal with it, so they're the ones who should go about fixing it. But it's OUR problem. Us white people. WE'RE the ones who messed up. WE'RE the ones who formed a society around misbegotten notions of inequality that put us at the top. WE'RE the ones who perpetuate this society by blaming the people who grew up on the wrong end of it. Then we look the other way when we see other white people being racist... we contribute to it by not doing anything to stop it.

And it's so hard. I mean, I got up and spoke Spanish to hundreds of people a week ago, and yeah, I was pretty durn nervous... but it was nothing in comparison to the anxiety I felt as I confronted those teens. Nothing at all.

But I had to do it. How could I look at myself in the mirror? How could I say I was against racism? How could I wear that button with Malcolm X's famous, "End Racism By Any Means" on it, if I couldn't even say to a group of teenagers, Hey, that was wrong. Grow up.

But now that's opened up a whole 'nother can of worms, I think. Because now I'm reassessing everything that I claim to stand for and believe in, and I'm trying to figure out how I either do or do not live those beliefs. I have a feeling I'm going to be driving Michael crazy with this over the next few months.

But such is life. If you're going to live, live with your eyes open.

And choose.