It has always been a topic of conversation, an obvious symptom for a deeper problem rooted in American history and culture, discussed throughout high school, dominant in workshops, trainings and roundtables throughout college. Liberal politics in mind, I never placed blame, often organized the events, and tried to articulate answers in an attempt towards change, to make others understand. But, I never had an experiential understanding of these issues, and despite my best efforts couldn’t answer from a real place. Living here, I understand.
Why do all the black kids sit together? How come all the Asians won’t chill with anyone else? When you walk on campus, it looks like defacto segregation, there is little mixing. For as much lipservice as we give to race relations, why don’t more people mingle across racial lines?
I have friends from all over and try to answers these questions in the way I live my life. But, as a white man in the United Stated my behavior is rarely questioned, I usually look like everyone else, my behavior is not seen as anathema of norms, representative of my people, counter productive to social progress, or problematic. Those questions inevitably focus on groups who don’t look like me.
Walking around the streets here, people stare. They laugh. Kids point and giggle, wide-eyed. Riding my bicycle home from work is like comedy hour. I don’t speak the language, and I am not fluent in the culture. Rickshaw drivers hiss at me. Horns honk. Really, I have no idea what is going on, feel like a foreigner in a foreign land, and have not seen another white person in two weeks. People approach me and ask me stupid questions about
In trying to draw parallels back to the
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