Oh man, this is well worth reading in its entirety. This is just incredibly solid, well-reported local journalism. Sam Levin covers online racial profiling in Oakland.

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In the year since Darren Wilson killed Michael Brown, Jr. in Ferguson, Missouri, graphic videos and images of police brutality against unarmed black Americans have flooded social media feeds, thanks to the potent combination of ubiquitous cell phone cameras and the tireless efforts of Black Lives Matter activists. Like many, I’ve followed this stream of events with increasing frustration and horror, as these incidents remind us of racism and police brutality’s knock-on effects. Racist police brutality degrades community morale, it sows mistrust between officers and the communities they are supposed to serve, and it escalates future encounters between police officer and citizen almost before they start.

When police officer Eric Casebolt manhandled Dajerria Becton, a bikini-clad teenager, earlier this summer in McKinney, Texas, his actions similarly called to mind a much longer history of racism’s corrosive effects on black communities. As many others noted at the time, there is a long history and continuing present of swimming pools as deeply segregated spaces where African Americans have been viewed as suspicious and unwanted elements. But for me, the events in McKinney, and subsequent pool incidents that received less media attention, were particularly distressing because swimming, to me, is deeply personal. When I was Dajerria Becton’s age, I spent countless hours in and around pools in predominantly white neighborhoods. I was that rare thing: an African-American competitive swimmer.

There’s a devastating truth behind the stereotype that black people can’t swim.  According to USA Swimming’s 2010 study, nearly 70% of African-American children and 60% of Hispanic children have little to no swimming skills, while only 40% of Caucasian children have the same. As a result, black children are three times more likely to drown than white children. Further, children whose parents who can’t swim, regardless of race, are much less likely to learn. Parental fear seems to be one of the strongest reasons for this trend.

My parents, especially my mother, were perhaps exceptions to this rule. I’ve never seen my father swim or even step near water, but he fought in Vietnam, so I assume he could at some point. As for my mother, I don’t know whether she knew how to swim; if she did, she wasn’t particularly comfortable in the water. She was born and raised in Jamaica’s Blue Mountains, and she must have played in mountain streams as a young child, but that didn’t translate into her becoming a confident swimmer. Aside from a photograph of us at some kind of mommy-and-me infant swimming class, I have no recollection of her ever swimming. Nevertheless, she insisted that I learn.

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Think you don’t have them? Wrong.

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Feel free to ask Aunt Acid a variety of questions at [email protected] at any time. Previous installments can be found here.

Dear Aunt Acid,

As my understanding of racism and white privilege has grown over the years, I have learned to recognise subtle behaviours and microaggressions that are, despite declarations of “not racist,” definitely racist. I grew up remarkably liberal and free from overt racism, homophobia, anti-Semitism, and general ignorant hatred of other people. However, I also grew up surrounded mostly by white or East Asian people in Europe, Asia and Australia, which is why as a younger woman I did say ignorant and stupid things based on a lack of education. I know a lot better now and I am continually educating myself and others, trying to raise awareness of this more subtle, but still racist mindset, as well as of the disadvantages and discriminatory behaviours that minorities face on a daily basis.

With that “gotta justify myself” preamble, here is my question: 6 or 7 years ago, I was in my mid-twenties and living with a housemate who was black. She remains to this day one of my favourite housemates ever and I love her to the end of the earth. One night I made a stupid comment, which was meant to be a joke, that was outdated and racist. The memory of this “joke” makes me cringe so badly. I knew as soon as I said it that it was not funny, but she just pretended I hadn’t said it and we moved on to other subjects quickly. 

I am fairly confident that is one of the most awful things I ever said. And I keep thinking, is it too late to apologise? It would have to be a Facebook apology (which is the way we communicate), and also maybe she forgot about it in the name of love and forgiveness…I have an apology all written up, but I hesitate that it might “make things weird.” 

I’m pretty sure the answer is: Hit send, you foolish girl. But any other advice about how to frame it so it’s not about white guilt and it’s a genuine, meaningful apology? I don’t want to fuck it up. 

Thanks,

Everyone Thinks They’re Not Racist

*

Dear ETTNR:

I take a different, slightly more Avenue Q-ish view of the world than your sign-off suggests you do. You know the song “Everyone’s A Little Bit Racist”? We can all be prejudiced — though, as that song neglects to acknowledge, the prejudice of white people is especially damaging, since we hold so many of the levers of power. Our hate can become law. Our hate can even be godlike: it can dictate who is punished and who escapes, who lives and who dies.

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