by Alan Morgan I live in Powell River
I believe I may be a racist
I don't want to be a racist
Never thought I was a racist
Then I asked what that is?
A racist
Someone who doesn't like races?
I like races
I remember growing up in a place that used humour a lot
People were always commenting on the weather or telling the latest joke
Some of these jokes were silly
Some seemed funny
Some were funny
Others were nasty
Some that seemed a little funny and seemed harmless were not actually those things at all
They were mean
They were destructive
We seemed to like demeaning and making fun of those who seemed different
In voice or look or habit
We did this while believing we were not racists at all
Just being funny
We weren't
We were bullies
Pacifistic, pathetic bullies
Our words were our weapons
We acted racist
We may not have felt a racist but we certainly disguised ourselves as racists
It is so regretful now
Can't take it back
All the while, raising my family in Delta, my late wife ran a daycare in our home
It saw a growth of new Indo-Canadians as a percentage of our daycare, over 20 years, from zero to 60 per cent
I remember having to expel a few white boys from the daycare for continuing to use racial slurs
Even after my repeated requests to stop
I believed I had faced and conquered my latent racism
Yet, the jokes were still “around” and accommodated in my social circles
Shame
Tough to change attitudes and behaviours that were learned in the formative years
Takes determination
Courage, I guess
Now I chide and guffaw with my black-skinned, Canadian-from-Barbados friend
As if I'd never been a racist
So far, he accommodates my tainted friendship (and my “poor man's” phony black humour)
Nothing like a former cigarette smoker, I mean, racist:)
When you think you're “clean” you can be so sanctimonious!
I've travelled to over 35 countries in my 61 years, so far
I've loved most all the places I've visited
From Seoul to Martinique
From Budapest to Melbourne
Fabulous people and cultures at every stop along the way
Hard to be a true racist while one's travelling I suppose?
Come to think of it
It’s been really hard recognizing that I am/was a racist
Never, ever thought I was!
How could I be
I didn't call black-skinned people niggers
I did laugh at stupid, black person jokes, derogatory jokes, “Polish” jokes, “Newfie” jokes,
Truth is
I was raised in an environment that didn't make it easy to recognize my own racism
Shame
On my community
Shame on me
I am hopeful however
That my days of being a racist are numbered
I feel optimistic about becoming the opposite of a racist
Not sure what that looks like or what that may be called
But I like the idea of joining that group
I think I will.
Alan Morgan, a resident of Townsite, wrote this poem on March 19, 2015 and believes it may touch an untold, unspoken story that meanders through this community.
