IBARW: A second moment of "Oh"
Aug. 9th, 2007 07:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thebratqueenI think back on that moment with my friend in elementary school with the same gut-clenching, oh crap feeling as I do of a memory of something that happened during one of my first trips to New Orleans.
To set the scene we're looking at me late and post college now. Older, theoretically wiser, definitely of the belief that I'm right and everyone else is wrong. So compared to my elementary school self really the only differences are the older and theoretically wiser.
Growing up in and around New York city did not, of course, mean that I was never exposed to racism. But the racism and race issues that I saw when I visited and then lived in New Orleans were yet another paradigm shift in my mental pictures of what race relations were like in this country.
At some point I might get into black history of New Orleans and what I know about it. But for now the point is that when you're in a city that not only had slavery but was one of the biggest ports for slavery, it's going to have different problems than a town that's several steps removed from the situation.
For example: the horrible state of predominantly black schools and neighborhoods in New York City is due to many social and economic factors that, as you trace them back through the centuries, will eventually get you back to slavery. The fact that, in New Orleans, you will see multi-million dollar mansions on one side of a block and run-down tiny houses on the other is because one side had the master's house and the other had the slave quarters and that architectual dynamic hasn't changed after all this time.
(Note: I'm not saying this is everywhere in New Orleans. Just that you can see it in some places and it does stand out.)
The connection with the slavery history is more immediate too. I remember tagging along as one of my friends led a tour and falling behind to make sure this one small group within the tour didn't get lost. If I remember correctly they were all of a family, with the mother being maybe around 50something and the others in their 30s.
We got to talking and I don't remember how but the topic swung around to Oak Alley plantation. The mom, who I was mostly talking to, mentioned how they had been debating whether to stay there for a night. Reason being: on the one hand it was a plantation. Slavery connection. How could she, as a black woman, stay there with her family? But on the other hand she thought that perhaps this could be a good thing. She and her family could stay 'in the big house' and show her ancestors that at least some things had changed. I remember her saying this quietly, and firmly, and you could tell how much it meant to her to be able to make that stand, to think about walking through those doors and being able to tell the ghosts of the past (and, in Oak Alley's case, also the literal ghosts) You didn't want me here but here I am and you can't stop me.
I almost felt bad as I had to point out that Oak Alley's guest rooms were actually in the slave quarters. Much nicer accomodations than days of yore, obviously, but still. I don't remember how that affected her decision. Perhaps she hadn't made up her mind by the end of it. But I was always grateful for that incidental moment of me being on the right tour at the right time, and that woman's friendly and conversational nature that allowed me the opportunity to see what being in the city meant for someone whose historical background was so much different from my own.
The topic of slavery became another lens by which modern racial opinions could be seen. New Orleans has a slightly different background with slavery compared to the rest of the South, and again some day I may bore you with the history lesson as I remember it from my tour guide days. But the short version is that New Orleans had rules, and the rules were different from other slave towns, and this was part of why black history in New Orleans is a story unto itself. But when you read about a rule that says slaves had to have certain days off, or that slave families could not be broken up, to me it says something when your brain then goes to "Oh, so New Orleans slaves had it pretty good" instead of "Man were those French supremely obnoxious about forcing their religion onto others" and "Well, if you had to try to stop a slave revolt I suppose keeping different groups from forming ties to each other is one method. Other than, yanno, not having slaves."
But New Orleans had more blatent moments of racism than that. One moment that sticks out in my mind is seeing the streetcar pass by as it was filled with schoolchildren - all black - fresh out of school and hearing someone next to me say, disgustedly, "And that is why we don't ride the streetcar at this time of day."
But the big one was early on. Early enough that I may have still been in college and just visiting. Early enough that I didn't even expect it, or think that I should. I was with a friend, at her job, and we were talking about Mardi Gras parades. Her boss made a comment about the Zulu parade that was so offensive that to this day I can't repeat it out loud. I can't even type it. It involved a word that, to my ears, was worse than the one that started with N. Maybe others wouldn't agree with me, but I'd never before heard this word used to describe black people before and I hope I never hear it again. If I do I think there will be punching. No thought, just straight-up hitting the person who let this pass their lips.
But back then? Nothing. Maybe because I'd been stunned to silence. Maybe because of the pressure of starting a fight with my friend's boss, and how that would reflect badly on her as an employee. Maybe straight-up cowardice.
But that moment, and the moment with my friend back in school, stick with me. And every time I think I could've done better.
To set the scene we're looking at me late and post college now. Older, theoretically wiser, definitely of the belief that I'm right and everyone else is wrong. So compared to my elementary school self really the only differences are the older and theoretically wiser.
Growing up in and around New York city did not, of course, mean that I was never exposed to racism. But the racism and race issues that I saw when I visited and then lived in New Orleans were yet another paradigm shift in my mental pictures of what race relations were like in this country.
At some point I might get into black history of New Orleans and what I know about it. But for now the point is that when you're in a city that not only had slavery but was one of the biggest ports for slavery, it's going to have different problems than a town that's several steps removed from the situation.
For example: the horrible state of predominantly black schools and neighborhoods in New York City is due to many social and economic factors that, as you trace them back through the centuries, will eventually get you back to slavery. The fact that, in New Orleans, you will see multi-million dollar mansions on one side of a block and run-down tiny houses on the other is because one side had the master's house and the other had the slave quarters and that architectual dynamic hasn't changed after all this time.
(Note: I'm not saying this is everywhere in New Orleans. Just that you can see it in some places and it does stand out.)
The connection with the slavery history is more immediate too. I remember tagging along as one of my friends led a tour and falling behind to make sure this one small group within the tour didn't get lost. If I remember correctly they were all of a family, with the mother being maybe around 50something and the others in their 30s.
We got to talking and I don't remember how but the topic swung around to Oak Alley plantation. The mom, who I was mostly talking to, mentioned how they had been debating whether to stay there for a night. Reason being: on the one hand it was a plantation. Slavery connection. How could she, as a black woman, stay there with her family? But on the other hand she thought that perhaps this could be a good thing. She and her family could stay 'in the big house' and show her ancestors that at least some things had changed. I remember her saying this quietly, and firmly, and you could tell how much it meant to her to be able to make that stand, to think about walking through those doors and being able to tell the ghosts of the past (and, in Oak Alley's case, also the literal ghosts) You didn't want me here but here I am and you can't stop me.
I almost felt bad as I had to point out that Oak Alley's guest rooms were actually in the slave quarters. Much nicer accomodations than days of yore, obviously, but still. I don't remember how that affected her decision. Perhaps she hadn't made up her mind by the end of it. But I was always grateful for that incidental moment of me being on the right tour at the right time, and that woman's friendly and conversational nature that allowed me the opportunity to see what being in the city meant for someone whose historical background was so much different from my own.
The topic of slavery became another lens by which modern racial opinions could be seen. New Orleans has a slightly different background with slavery compared to the rest of the South, and again some day I may bore you with the history lesson as I remember it from my tour guide days. But the short version is that New Orleans had rules, and the rules were different from other slave towns, and this was part of why black history in New Orleans is a story unto itself. But when you read about a rule that says slaves had to have certain days off, or that slave families could not be broken up, to me it says something when your brain then goes to "Oh, so New Orleans slaves had it pretty good" instead of "Man were those French supremely obnoxious about forcing their religion onto others" and "Well, if you had to try to stop a slave revolt I suppose keeping different groups from forming ties to each other is one method. Other than, yanno, not having slaves."
But New Orleans had more blatent moments of racism than that. One moment that sticks out in my mind is seeing the streetcar pass by as it was filled with schoolchildren - all black - fresh out of school and hearing someone next to me say, disgustedly, "And that is why we don't ride the streetcar at this time of day."
But the big one was early on. Early enough that I may have still been in college and just visiting. Early enough that I didn't even expect it, or think that I should. I was with a friend, at her job, and we were talking about Mardi Gras parades. Her boss made a comment about the Zulu parade that was so offensive that to this day I can't repeat it out loud. I can't even type it. It involved a word that, to my ears, was worse than the one that started with N. Maybe others wouldn't agree with me, but I'd never before heard this word used to describe black people before and I hope I never hear it again. If I do I think there will be punching. No thought, just straight-up hitting the person who let this pass their lips.
But back then? Nothing. Maybe because I'd been stunned to silence. Maybe because of the pressure of starting a fight with my friend's boss, and how that would reflect badly on her as an employee. Maybe straight-up cowardice.
But that moment, and the moment with my friend back in school, stick with me. And every time I think I could've done better.
