I hear you about proximity. Some people say they can’t be racist because they have a Black friend or whatever, and I can see how they’re racist all the same.
One big barrier in self-education is coming to terms with the fact that we’re all racist, from being acculturated in a racist society. White people choke on that idea because they think it means they’re bad people, and then they feel like they have to defend their honor or goodness or whatever you want to call it. But we are all racist — in the sense of having implicit biases and customs that we’ve absorbed at about the same time that we learn to walk and talk. And this doesn’t mean we’re bad people, it simply means we’re all products of the society in which we live.
As an autist, I saw this clearly, growing up. I don’t absorb unwritten and unspoken rules of society as well as neurotypical people do; I often have to be explicitly taught. So, as a child growing up, my elders saw fit to tell me, in so many words, that I must hate and fear Black people. My grandfather (RIP), a Mason and a devout hardworking man, sat me down and told me straight-out that God put order in the universe and Black people are meant to be inferior. And if I treat Black people as my equals then I’m going against God’s plan! I rebelled, because I knew that God said, love your neighbor as yourself.
Even so, I’ve not totally escaped societal conditioning. In my self-education, I’ve uncovered a few implicit biases and recalled a few gaffes / microaggressions that assure me that I’m just as racist as anyone else. Only difference is — I don’t shy away, I keep working at it.
As for proximity — I grew up in New Orleans, where my settler ancestors arrived in the 1700’s and where white folks have always been in the minority. Been in all-Black places many a time, just goes with the territory. Lived in neighborhoods where I”m the only white person in sight, because I could afford the rent there. In those places, I’ve noticed that, once the Black people get used to seeing me around, they’re often kinder and more accepting of my “differences” than my own family has been. After a while the young folks started speculating aloud that I’m not “white-white,” I’m “bright-bright.” (A recent DNA test confirmed that they were right-right!) And I’d rather be in such company than in the company of hoity-toity white middle class folks who see me as a piece of garbage that the wind blew in — if they even see me at all.
Recently when I was having a hard time in public, a Black neighbor came to my side. As I came round, I thanked her and explained that I am autistic. She replied, “No honey, you’re not autistic. I’ve taken care of autistic people, all grown up and they need to be spoon fed and diaper changed. You’re very smart and you’re special, just the way God made you!” I didn’t bother to explain about how autism is a spectrum and there are different levels of support needs — I was just grateful that I saw her and she saw me.
