Sports Editor Alexander Robinson poses for a photo with his father, Gregory Robinson, in Charlotte, N.C. circa 2004. Photo courtesy of Ramona Robinson
Sports Editor Alexander Robinson explores how his racial makeup has influenced his social life.
Most of the people I closely interact with are white.
This, intrinsically, is neither a good or bad thing. It is simply a fact. Most of my teachers, peers and friends are of European descent.
Yes, I am lucky to live in a relatively diverse community and attend a majority-black school, but by virtue of the extracurricular activities I participate in and the classes I take, I find myself in the minority more often than not.
This, oftentimes, isn’t a problem. Diversity is a two-way street, so I try to learn from those around me and hope they do the same. In fact, this type of cultural education occurs fairly often at Clarke Central High School. For this, I am grateful.
I have a problem, however, when those around me either make careless remarks regarding race or mockingly treat me as an omnipotent authority regarding the matter.
A classmate recently asked if I could grant him an unlimited N-word pass. Another quipped about me possibly being a future victim of police brutality. A teacher even flippantly joked about lynching me.
This has to stop.
No, I am not a liberal snowflake. No, my feelings weren’t hurt in the long run. No, I am not on a social justice crusade. I am simply out to correct those of you who believe that such behavior is OK.
You are wrong. This may seem obvious to the vast majority of the people reading this, but too many similar incidents have occurred. It is no longer a coincidence, and those at fault must be called out.
You are not funny, you are not witty and you certainly are not endearing or charming in the slightest.
To joke about a racial slur that has a long and painful history, or about a systemic societal issue that has claimed the lives of countless minorities, or about the lawless executions of my ancestors is shameful.
And if you’re thinking to yourself, “Come on, they’re just words. What’s the worst that’s actually happened to you? Stop complaining,” I have just one question to ask.
Who are you, again?
No, seriously. Who are you to decide how I feel about these things? You will never be able to claim any sort of authority on this issue. I will never be a complete or total authority surrounding all things black to my white counterparts. No one, when it comes to race in America, is an absolute authority.
Now, if you have found yourself to be guilty of this — are you necessarily racist? Probably not. I hope not, at least. But you’re not in the clear.
If you’ve messed up recently, be more conscious of your actions and tread lightly. I, for one, am done laughing these things off.
Because I am no longer your token black friend.
I am no longer your bad excuse.
