When I was about in the 2nd grade, I had a best friend named Trent. We did everything together- birthday parties, sports, sleepovers-- all that stuff kids do. The thing is, Trent is black. I am white. Growing up in Southern California I don't recall ever thinking about issues of race, except that they must be behind us because my best bud is black. But what if...
What if just because I didn't think about it, doesn't mean that Trent didn't think about it. What if he ALWAYS thought about it.
I had the luxury to not think about race because I am in a position of power. He does not have that luxury. He could be richer, smarter, and better looking than me, but I would still get preferential treatment pretty much everywhere I go in America.
This thought horrifies me.
And haunts me.
In fact, I can't stop thinking about it.
I'm a barista, I make drinks for a living. But what keeps playing over and over in my head is the idea that people of color are being pushed to the outside of my city right in front of my face and most times I can't even see it.
So, here's another start to a new blog- a blog that chronicles my whiteness, in all of it's shame and glory. I'm trying to not be racist because I'm pretty sure that I already am, but don't know it. I know I say shit all the time that people of color must roll their eyes at the least or vomit in their mouths at the most... but I'm trying, dammit. I don't like the thought that nothing I do, as a white guy, matters. It might be true. It's not about me. But I have a voice and I have a thing I like to do (make coffee). My dream is to create a cafe in Durham that doesn't just appeal to white people, or rich white people-- a cafe that appeals to people of all different nationalities. It's a stupid idea. I know it. "A white guy can only make a shop that appeals to other white guys"- this is what I hear a lot.
But I'm not really a good example of a white guy. I don't enjoy watching sports. I have no desire to be rich or make a lot of money. I'm NOT a workaholic. I love doing laundry and dishes and watching my wife succeed in her career. I'm an avid feminisit. And most importantly, I enjoy cheesy dance movies.
Maybe I'm the right white guy. Maybe the black community is waiting for someone like me to ask them why they don't go to other white-owned cafes. Maybe the people of color here are ready to take a risk on me and dare to see if white people, black people, and brown people can actually all enjoy the same product, in the same space. Maybe we can appreciate each other. Maybe we can get to know each other.
OR, maybe this will all just suck and fail miserably.
