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A couple of people on my friends list pointed out that it was "Blog Against Racism Day."
I was going to write about capital punishment statistics and race.
Then I was going link to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jmhm's piece, because she said things so well.
But in the end, I decided to write about my sister-in-law. Or more accurately, my husband's sister-in-law.
N. was born into a wealthy, privileged family. She grew up going to exclusive schools in London. Her father was a wealthy businessman, her stepfather a powerful politician. When she decided to marry a middle-class Georgia boy with -- to outsiders, anyway -- nothing special to commend him, it was scandalous.
She is Pakistani. Her family has connections to former royal houses and ruling castes, but she is the one of the most gracious, gentle people I know. When I grow up, I want to be N.
When the Twin Towers were bombed the first time, I feared for her safety. When our own home-grown terrorists blew up the Murrah Building in Oklahoma City and certain elements started screaming "Islamic fundamentalist!", I feared for her safety.
In the weeks that followed 9/11, as I read stories of Muslims being harassed and in some places assaulted -- and even people who weren't Muslim, but who had dark skin and hair and looked vaguely like they might be from that part of the world -- I would sometimes break out in a cold sweat and think "Dear God, don't let some yahoo hurt N." Most of the people being subject to harm were men, but the fear was there, that they might see her dark skin and hair and eyes and not stop to ask where she was from and what her religion was. Hatred is never rational. Even the thought of smaller hurts -- people acting coldly or suspiciously towards her, who is such a wonderful person, made me sad.
I have never talked about this with her, I'm not sure why. My hunch is that she would downplay it, that she would say she was not afraid. Maybe she wasn't, but I was, and I do not think my fear was completely irrational.
And the way the country has gone since then gives me little hope that things will get better anytime soon. I hear more racist garbage spouted openly -- towards people of Middle Eastern descent -- than I can recall hearing in a long, long time. Some of it sounds suspiciously what some of my Southern relatives (not my parents -- and NOT in my father's hearing) said to me when I was growing up... about blacks.
N. has daughters, I have sons. The world will not be that much less racist when we leave it -- but maybe it will when they do, or when their children do. I hope so.
I was going to write about capital punishment statistics and race.
Then I was going link to
jmhm's piece, because she said things so well.But in the end, I decided to write about my sister-in-law. Or more accurately, my husband's sister-in-law.
N. was born into a wealthy, privileged family. She grew up going to exclusive schools in London. Her father was a wealthy businessman, her stepfather a powerful politician. When she decided to marry a middle-class Georgia boy with -- to outsiders, anyway -- nothing special to commend him, it was scandalous.
She is Pakistani. Her family has connections to former royal houses and ruling castes, but she is the one of the most gracious, gentle people I know. When I grow up, I want to be N.
When the Twin Towers were bombed the first time, I feared for her safety. When our own home-grown terrorists blew up the Murrah Building in Oklahoma City and certain elements started screaming "Islamic fundamentalist!", I feared for her safety.
In the weeks that followed 9/11, as I read stories of Muslims being harassed and in some places assaulted -- and even people who weren't Muslim, but who had dark skin and hair and looked vaguely like they might be from that part of the world -- I would sometimes break out in a cold sweat and think "Dear God, don't let some yahoo hurt N." Most of the people being subject to harm were men, but the fear was there, that they might see her dark skin and hair and eyes and not stop to ask where she was from and what her religion was. Hatred is never rational. Even the thought of smaller hurts -- people acting coldly or suspiciously towards her, who is such a wonderful person, made me sad.
I have never talked about this with her, I'm not sure why. My hunch is that she would downplay it, that she would say she was not afraid. Maybe she wasn't, but I was, and I do not think my fear was completely irrational.
And the way the country has gone since then gives me little hope that things will get better anytime soon. I hear more racist garbage spouted openly -- towards people of Middle Eastern descent -- than I can recall hearing in a long, long time. Some of it sounds suspiciously what some of my Southern relatives (not my parents -- and NOT in my father's hearing) said to me when I was growing up... about blacks.
N. has daughters, I have sons. The world will not be that much less racist when we leave it -- but maybe it will when they do, or when their children do. I hope so.