Growing up, I was often exposed to derogatory comments and racial slurs from my father. In my household, his racist attitudes were a common occurrence. While I understood that using the n-word in public was unacceptable, I was largely unaware of its deep-rooted impact and the pain it inflicted.
I was not immune to this environment, nor was I an unwavering advocate for social justice. Instead, I absorbed the prejudices around me. I heard family members criticize figures like Martin Luther King, Jr., and witnessed the aftermath of events like the MOVE bombings, which only hinted at the pervasive racial bitterness present in my community in Eastern Pennsylvania.
It’s difficult to pinpoint a single moment when I failed to challenge racism. Instead, I can think of countless incidents throughout my childhood and early adulthood where I remained silent. My father’s comments, as well as those from friends, left me feeling powerless.
How could I confront my father when he would bait me with his views? When my brother and I protested against the n-word, he simply shifted his ridicule to other ethnic groups. We were exhausted by his rants about “them” ruining the town and how they just kept having children while living off welfare. The bitterness flowed freely, and I eventually gave up trying to stop it. My silence only encouraged him further, and he relished in his perceived victory.
Then there are the beloved grandparents, whose outdated views we struggle to reconcile with our love and respect for them. You might think, “They are old and set in their ways,” and you hesitate to challenge their use of terms like “colored” or their unfounded rants about the state of our town. You worry that confronting them will cause unnecessary conflict, and you doubt whether you could change their minds. So, you listen, allowing their toxic words to linger in the air, out of a skewed sense of respect for their age.
In college, I witnessed similar situations with friends. Once, while driving, a friend grew irritated as a Black woman crossed in front of us. “They think they own the road,” she muttered, and I remained silent. I didn’t want to engage in a confrontation about racism while driving. Similarly, when a Black person was late, I noticed the different standards applied to their tardiness compared to white individuals. The term “CPT” (Colored People’s Time) would echo in the room, and I grappled with the choice of speaking up or looking the other way.
Choosing silence feels easier. It maintains the peace and smooths over social tensions. But this silence also perpetuates racism. Each time we let these remarks slide, we contribute to a cycle that allows bigotry to thrive. We fear the discomfort of standing up for what is right, allowing our inaction to feed the very issues we detest.
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In summary, it is crucial to confront the racism within our families, regardless of how uncomfortable it may feel. By remaining silent, we allow harmful ideologies to persist. It’s essential to take a stand, educating those around us, even if it means difficult conversations with loved ones.
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