New

Stories added May, 2001 to August, 2002:

When I was a camp counselor in France, I was assigned to a very nice little private room in the dormitory where my little charges slept. Among the counselors was a young woman named Mag from the Ivory Coast. There was a problem about how she could supervise her campers since her room had been moved to the attic due to her "special needs" since she was black. (No one ever explained what those needs were and Mag herself did not know what that meant.) I had room in my cubicle for another bed, which put her near the children, and I asked her to share my room. All the counselors and the director were in shock since this would require some very "unusual behavior" on my part since I'm Caucasian -- blond with green eyes. I did not see what the problem was but I could feel the tension of the others and Mag’s complete surprise.
We roomed together and became good friends -- staying in contact during the time we studied in France. This was in the late 60's and early 70's and the first time I had gotten to know black person on really personal level. (Anon., Beaverton, OR, USA, 2001) -> authorities

What I can do is what I have been doing in the last few weeks. I think before I speak in reference to a non-white. I mention to my friend the oddity of the “I’m not racist, but—” statement she makes. (Allison Calhoun, Beaverton, OR, USA, 2001) ->friends

Glen and I used to have dinner about every 6 weeks with a group of 12 - 15 people. One time Ron told a joke that we both thought was offensive except neither of us said a word until we were in the car driving home. Both of us were embarrassed that we had let the joke just "go" and resolved to do something the next time. True to form, six weeks later, we were at dinner with the group and Ron started to tell a joke. I interrupted with: "If this is an offensive joke, I would not like to hear it." Ron said the joke anyway; Glen and I looked at each other and got up. Glen or I said, "We choose not listen to jokes that make fun of groups. We will be leaving." And then we did. We have not seen nor talked to Ron since. We both felt very good about our actions. (Jan Whittlesey, Beaverton, OR, USA, 2001) ->peers

Once, when my friend and I were driving to the movies, he saw some young Hispanic men along the street. He rolled down his window and shouted stuff like "Go back to Mexico" and stuff about their ethnic background (nothing nice). I yelled at him to roll his window up and asked him why he did that. He said, "they're in our country." I told him he had no reason to say that, and he couldn't back his opinions up, he couldn't defend his actions. I proceeded to tell him about why people move to America, and how Hispanics are people, and the only difference is the language they speak, their culture, and the color of their skin. Those differences do not measure their worth; actions measure and define who we are. Then I asked him very politely not to speak racist remarks in front of me again, and he hasn't. (Kacee Adams, Beaverton, OR, USA, 2001) ->peers

New stories

Stories added since August, 2004:

Home Add your story Newest Stories Email RISE Contact RISE Donate to RISE Copyright Policy Links More stories from the interlinked web of oppressions: Ableism Ageism Anti-semitism Classism Colorism Homophobia Racism Sexism Related essays: Guilt White Bashing PC or SC Privilege
	New stories Stories added since August, 2004: I was sitting around the kitchen table of a neighbor. My neighbor and her husband are retired, middle-class white folks. Also at the table were two other neighbors, also retired, middle-class white folks. I am a white woman, 50ish, and a teacher. The subject of flip-flop shoes (thongs) came up. My neighbor (male, in whose home we were talking) said he called them "gook boots". he said, "That's what we called them in Vietnam". I looked at him with shock and said "I don't believe you just said that. What you said really hurt my heart. I don't ever want you to say anything like that around me again!" There was complete silence at the table. None of the other people said anything. The man just coughed and changed the subject, but I feel I was understood. Afterward, the two wives said they were glad I said something. I told them I would never let a statement like that go by without saying something. They said nothing more about the experience. (M., El Cerrito, CA, USA 2005) Stories added since August, 2002: I was attending my first "college" class at a local community college to earn some extra credits and subdue boredom during the summer (2002). My expectations for that class included; a variety of new people to meet, in-depth writing, and an introduction to the 'college experience'. On the first day of class, the instructor displayed several things which strongly offended me. The Composition 1 class was small, roughly 12 people enrolled the first day. The teacher, after going through a second-grade-like orientation, asked my close friend (who moved from China two years ago) if she liked 'her own food'. Her racial slurs continued, as did her constant abusive attention to Lisa, throughout the class. Midway through the first day she turned to one of the African American students and said something to the effect of 'you should just drop my class now.' Being in a small town, racism wasn't anything new to us. When we got our first assignments back another infuriating occurance happened. Nearly every white student recieved an A on their first paper. Some of these were read aloud, in which sentences like 'and I ain't even met him yet' were dictated from some of the older white females. Their incorrect grammar was ignored, their grades did NOT reflect their ability or effort. One of the African American students read a perfect paragraph of his paper. He had beautiful word fluency, sentence structure, and no errors that stood out to me (or anyone sitting near me). His grade was a low C. The unfairness was evident. I thought 'enough is enough'. I wrote a petition that basically said 'Sign below if you have witnessed any of the following behaviors/events in Mrs. _____ Comp 1 class,' and had a list of general things that might have been seen by other students. Every single student in class signed immediately (excluding 2 older white females who didn't think the "n****** belonged in their class anyway"). The few remaining African American students in the class expressed to me that they hadn't said anything because they were 'used to it'. I thought I was going to be sick. I went to the President of the college with my petition, grades from several students' papers, and my heart-felt concern and disgust. He said that he would sit in on a class and see if he could see the same behaviors. The following morning he came in to oversee her lecture. She completely ignored him for about 30 seconds before screaming at him 'If you don't like the way I teach my class - YOU CAN TEACH IT!'. She made several rude remarks to him before fleeing campus. The assignments which we had done we regraded by the teacher (an English teacher from the high school) who came to fill in for the semester. The 'unfairness' in regards to grading was corrected. The class resumed in a more English LANGUAGE oriented fashion. The damage that was caused by that teacher, however, is something that will never leave the memories of those who were subject to her racism. (Abi, Independence, KS, USA, 09/27/02) -> institutions, teachers Stories added August, 2002: When I was in middle school I rode the Tri-Met home everyday. This bus always had a large group of predominately African American students on it before I boarded. One day I was sitting in front of this group and they started throwing candy at the back of my head. The first time they hit me I turned around to see what had hit me, this only encouraged an onslaught of laughter. As I continued to be pelted by candy a sort of panic set in. I felt alone because of my color. My panic tricked me in to immediately thinking that all the black people on the bus were against me. At that moment an African American student sitting across from me came to my aid, yelling at the others to stop. My gratitude towards this girl was overwhelming. As she half scolded me, telling me I couldn’t let them push me around, my sixth grade eyes were opened to the fact that skin color doesn’t define enemies or allies unless you allow it. (Felicia Chapman, Beaverton, OR, USA, 2002) -> peers One day at work a man came in and I greeted him as I would anyone. He was at first glance the epitome of a southern cowboy; big black cowboy hat, shiny Texas belt buckle, tight blue jeans and a big blue pickup. He was being very friendly and we were talking casually until his eyes wandered to one of our many wall decorations. We had an old beer tap of a wooden shark with the name of an outdated beer “Mudshark” hanging on our wall. And his eyes got really big, and he leaned over to me and he said “Do you know what a mudshark is?” And I said, “No!” And he said it was a very derogatory term for a black man who married a white woman. I was shocked and embarrassed. I immediately took the trinket down. I profusely thanked him for letting us know and apologized to him. He didn’t personally seem offended; more shocked that there was such a decoration still around. However the most shocking part for me was still to come. After the man had left the restaurant, I went to the back to tell my boss all about what had just happened. After telling him the story, expecting some kind of recognition or reassurance I had done the right thing, he stared at me upset. He took the shark and put it back out in the restaurant muttering that no one had the right to tell us how to decorate our workplace and we didn’t even know if he was telling the truth. I was infuriated with him and I argued with him. I took the shark back and put it in my purse. I argued with him fairly heatedly and asked him why he was acting in such a way. It eventually ended in me calling headquarters and placing the issue in their hands. (Leigh Halverson, Beaverton, OR, USA, 2002)-> boss It was 3 in the afternoon. As always, I sat in the front seat of the Tri-Met bus, going back home. The bus stopped at Walker Road, and an old African American man walked in. He looked sick and tired and I couldn’t help wishing if I could be of some help to him. After a couple of minutes he smiled and he calmly asked the bus driver, who was a white American, to stop at the nearest stop because he had taken the wrong bus home. I looked at the bus driver's face, which now looked cold and unfeeling. He grinned at the gentleman and said, "Don't you know how to read? It's written 4-8, 48 on the front of the damn bus!" The old man then pleaded the driver to stop the bus so that he could get off; but the bus driver wouldn't stop. I sat there shocked in disbelief -- not knowing what to do or say. In the next moment, the doors opened and as they slammed shut and the old man stepped out, the driver said, "Damn N-s, don't know how to read!" I was so shocked that I couldn't breath. I just wanted to jump out of the bus! When it was my turn to get out, he smiled and I found myself saying, "Thank you!" After these discussions, I summed up my strength. I vowed to myself that if I ever saw that man again, I would say something back. Today, on the 4th of Feb, I saw him again; this time cursing a high school freshman for not having the tickets ready while entering the bus. This time I didn't care if he was being racist or just plain mean; I stood up, looked at him in the eye, and said in a broken but determined voice, "You have no right to say that!" As soon as I said that, I walked out the door smiling. I had never felt so good my entire life; I felt like a caged bird that was set free. (Parvathy, Beaverton, OR, USA, 2002)-> authorities , ageism
	Stories added May, 2001 to August, 2002: When I was a camp counselor in France, I was assigned to a very nice little private room in the dormitory where my little charges slept. Among the counselors was a young woman named Mag from the Ivory Coast. There was a problem about how she could supervise her campers since her room had been moved to the attic due to her "special needs" since she was black. (No one ever explained what those needs were and Mag herself did not know what that meant.) I had room in my cubicle for another bed, which put her near the children, and I asked her to share my room. All the counselors and the director were in shock since this would require some very "unusual behavior" on my part since I'm Caucasian -- blond with green eyes. I did not see what the problem was but I could feel the tension of the others and Mag’s complete surprise. We roomed together and became good friends -- staying in contact during the time we studied in France. This was in the late 60's and early 70's and the first time I had gotten to know black person on really personal level. (Anon., Beaverton, OR, USA, 2001) -> authorities What I can do is what I have been doing in the last few weeks. I think before I speak in reference to a non-white. I mention to my friend the oddity of the “I’m not racist, but—” statement she makes. (Allison Calhoun, Beaverton, OR, USA, 2001) ->friends Glen and I used to have dinner about every 6 weeks with a group of 12 - 15 people. One time Ron told a joke that we both thought was offensive except neither of us said a word until we were in the car driving home. Both of us were embarrassed that we had let the joke just "go" and resolved to do something the next time. True to form, six weeks later, we were at dinner with the group and Ron started to tell a joke. I interrupted with: "If this is an offensive joke, I would not like to hear it." Ron said the joke anyway; Glen and I looked at each other and got up. Glen or I said, "We choose not listen to jokes that make fun of groups. We will be leaving." And then we did. We have not seen nor talked to Ron since. We both felt very good about our actions. (Jan Whittlesey, Beaverton, OR, USA, 2001) ->peers Once, when my friend and I were driving to the movies, he saw some young Hispanic men along the street. He rolled down his window and shouted stuff like "Go back to Mexico" and stuff about their ethnic background (nothing nice). I yelled at him to roll his window up and asked him why he did that. He said, "they're in our country." I told him he had no reason to say that, and he couldn't back his opinions up, he couldn't defend his actions. I proceeded to tell him about why people move to America, and how Hispanics are people, and the only difference is the language they speak, their culture, and the color of their skin. Those differences do not measure their worth; actions measure and define who we are. Then I asked him very politely not to speak racist remarks in front of me again, and he hasn't. (Kacee Adams, Beaverton, OR, USA, 2001) ->peers