Racism doesn't exist anymore

I've added this topic as part of U.S. Black History Month, and the concern I have that more and more people keep saying how much better things are in terms of race. Are they better? Have things really changed? I'd like to start by sharing my own experience.

Racism: If They Won't Change, Change Your Mind
by Max Gordon
Sapience Magazine
February 2006

Nig***rs are made.

Several months ago, I went to see a friend's play. I arrived at the off-Broadway theater a half hour early because I hadn't yet reserved a ticket. When I got there, two men, both white, stood together going over some papers behind a small makeshift desk. Neither acknowledged my presence. I waited patiently for a minute and a half as they continued to converse. Since I was the only one waiting in line, I finally spoke.

I said, 'Good evening. I'm here to see the play. This is where I buy a ticket, isn't it?'

'Yes,' one of the men replied. 'You're in the right place. We're just finishing up some paperwork.'

I adjusted my bag, nodded and waited. The men finished their conversation several minutes later, exchanging an elaborate goodbye as they gathered their papers and separated. The man who hadn't spoken to me lowered himself into a chair behind the desk. I pulled out my wallet, expectantly. He pulled out a cell phone. I watched in disbelief as he held the phone to his ear, listened for another few minutes, and then concentrated on the tiny screen while typing in a text message.

Time stops for me in moments like these. I am having one of my 'this-can't-be-happening-yes-it's-really-happening' moments. What I need is a committee, a hotline I can call, someone I trust to tell me whether I am experiencing racism in this moment or not. It definitely feels like racism: he is white, I am black, he's the ticket seller, I still don't have a ticket in my hand. It would be insane to wish for the days of the Jim Crow South, but it must have been easier then to recognize racial hatred when it occurred. If the response to 'I'd like a ticket please, Sir,' were a growling, white Mississippi face, purple-red and barking in mine, 'We're gonna sell you a ticket when we're damn good and ready to, boy!' it would at least have ended any speculation on my part about what was happening to me.

continue at http://www.changeatsapience.blogspot.com