Minority Report

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 America based on stupid movies, waiting for me to answer the question on behalf of 300 million people. The food is different. It is hotter than god and I sweat constantly. There is no one to date.

In trying to draw parallels back to the US, my newly minted minority status’ application stops here. There is too much history, the stereotypes that apply to me are generally considered good (having money chief among then) not bad despite my desire to be separate from them. Above all, it is just pretentious to think you can understand other people’s struggles and what I face is hardly struggle, it is just me in a new place. But, if I walked into a cafeteria right now I would sit with the people who looked like me.