I actually heard "I'm not racist, but..." from someone in my English class today. Arrgh. I was too stunned by what other people were saying to respond much to anything put forward in class.

It's just that in a class full of kids from the middle class, no one bothered to think when they're talking that one of them might actually be one of them Indians or Metis they're talking about with so much "authority".

Until the end, most of the students were talking about the Metis as just another aboriginal group and not, you know, their own separate entity. And some were surprised when one girl talked about how in the last mayoral election that she was surprised to see that some aboriginal people interviewed were against this one "native" candidate because he was "too white". (This was Dan Vandal who is Metis, and actually only publically acknowledge that he was about a decade ago, mostly because of the prejudices people have about the Metis.) The teacher pointed out that he was, you know, Metis and that this illuminates a problem that occurs that some aboriginal people look down on the Metis since they're too white, while some caucasian people look down on them because they're too native.

I've just been so immersed in this issue for the past few years that I didn't want to say anything. I'm tired of having to defend something that I see as inherent fact: people, no matter what race, culture or class, should all be treated the same and with respect.

A difficult concept, I know.

From: [identity profile] thegiantkiller.livejournal.com


My brother at one point told me frankly that he was "not racist except against natives because they're all lazy, greedy, stupid and homeless". I tried to explain to him that this was wrong and ridiculous and at the time I thought I actually made an impression (though I did call him an idiot, because regretfully this is how I always communicated with him), especially when I pointed out that we actually have Metis cousins. Of course, within two years he was calling everyone who didn't give him what he wanted or let him do as he pleased a kike or a nigger, but still looked down on aboriginals (or people he percieved as such) because they were all "huffers" and he, as a meth-head, belonged to a much higher caste of drug abuser.

I dunno where I'm going with that story, I guess I've just been thinking about Dave a lot lately since he turned 19 on Tuesday and I honestly can't remember how long it's been since I've talked to the bastard. I suppose it's another illustration of how cover-oriented we are, judging books we haven't read based on third-hand impressions from someone's uncle who read a biased review and never even considering opening them up for ourselves. You were probably not the only person with aboriginal heritage in the class, and certainly not the only person to keep her knowledge and experience to herself. People assume race is self-evident, in being a biological thing, a scientific fact, and something you can see by looking at someone . . . but in truth it's none of the fucking above.

From: [identity profile] rosie-riviter.livejournal.com


I love the statement "I'm not a racist, but..." because, inherantly, it is followed by something ludicrisly racist and/or a sweeping generalization of group 'x'.

To be honest, I have more tolerance for people who are upfront about having racial predjudices and who work to overcome them than I do for the middle class who concider themselves so enlightened that they "would never have a racist bone in their, like, body, OMG". Ignorance is bliss, yo-- and the university is filled with the buggers.

Next time they start in on that topic you should pipe up with something like "I'm not a prejudicial person, but GOD do those Bohunks reeeeek, eh? And don't get me started on the Scottish-- cheap pricks with pale skin. Who does that? And the Mennonites? Fucking BACKWARDS!!!"

But maybe that's because I like to see people become uncomfortable... :P
.

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