Twenty-One, White & Free
Back in 1986, I’d just finished college. Me and my buddies would play softball and then sit at a table at the Fox’s Den slopping pizza and wings and drinking pitchers of draft beer.
We’d raise our glass to toast our good fortunes.
“Twenty-one, white and free!” Was our rallying cry.
We had white privilege and we knew it. Sitting there in a basically white town, we were aware.
In 1988, I moved onto a job in New Haven, Connecticut. I shared an office with a young, black engineer. We’d both graduated college the same year. He did everything the right way, but he lacked self-confidence.
He couldn’t speak at the meetings. He’d get nervous and lose his spot. I have always been comfortable doing public speaking and I remember busting his chops.
“I always felt I was under a microscope,” he said.
“But you’re brilliant. What did you get on your SAT’s?” I asked.
Surprisingly his score was a lot lower than mine. But he had an engineering degree!
“I took that test and I’d never once seen any of those questions or read any of those books. We had teachers in our inner city school who couldn’t pass the school entrance exams.”
I remember being shocked by that.
“We don’t have the same opportunities as you. It’s just a fact.”
I now work in a field where there are a lot of black men at all levels. I was walking through a site the night after the Floyd murder.
“Cliffy, what do you make of that?” One of the black demo workers asked.
“It’s unbelievable,” I said. “Straight up murder and he looked at the camera with his hand in his pocket. He didn’t have a care in the world. And now, a bunch of white guys are standing up telling you how you should feel. Meanwhile, they looted the system and gave themselves a tax break.”
He laughed.
“I knew you were right in line with what I was thinking. That’s why I asked you. We always say that you’re our favorite because you talk to us like we’re people.”
“That’s nothing to be congratulated for,” I said.
And frankly, I’m embarrassed by how we treat black men and women, Hispanic men and women and other minorities.
It’s embarrassing.
The pattern continued as I watched the same old battle come to light. Protesting and looting and unbelievable rage.
People were stuck in the house.
Jobs gone.
It was an absolute powder keg.
Blew up.
And the response was typical:
“Thugs.”
“Animals.”
“Savages.”
It all comes down to respect.
Guess we need to have a class on what that single word means.
I don’t have any answers. I try and live my life the right way.
Feels like I should somehow do more.
Cause right now...
...I’m embarrassed.
We’d raise our glass to toast our good fortunes.
“Twenty-one, white and free!” Was our rallying cry.
We had white privilege and we knew it. Sitting there in a basically white town, we were aware.
In 1988, I moved onto a job in New Haven, Connecticut. I shared an office with a young, black engineer. We’d both graduated college the same year. He did everything the right way, but he lacked self-confidence.
He couldn’t speak at the meetings. He’d get nervous and lose his spot. I have always been comfortable doing public speaking and I remember busting his chops.
“I always felt I was under a microscope,” he said.
“But you’re brilliant. What did you get on your SAT’s?” I asked.
Surprisingly his score was a lot lower than mine. But he had an engineering degree!
“I took that test and I’d never once seen any of those questions or read any of those books. We had teachers in our inner city school who couldn’t pass the school entrance exams.”
I remember being shocked by that.
“We don’t have the same opportunities as you. It’s just a fact.”
I now work in a field where there are a lot of black men at all levels. I was walking through a site the night after the Floyd murder.
“Cliffy, what do you make of that?” One of the black demo workers asked.
“It’s unbelievable,” I said. “Straight up murder and he looked at the camera with his hand in his pocket. He didn’t have a care in the world. And now, a bunch of white guys are standing up telling you how you should feel. Meanwhile, they looted the system and gave themselves a tax break.”
He laughed.
“I knew you were right in line with what I was thinking. That’s why I asked you. We always say that you’re our favorite because you talk to us like we’re people.”
“That’s nothing to be congratulated for,” I said.
And frankly, I’m embarrassed by how we treat black men and women, Hispanic men and women and other minorities.
It’s embarrassing.
The pattern continued as I watched the same old battle come to light. Protesting and looting and unbelievable rage.
People were stuck in the house.
Jobs gone.
It was an absolute powder keg.
Blew up.
And the response was typical:
“Thugs.”
“Animals.”
“Savages.”
It all comes down to respect.
Guess we need to have a class on what that single word means.
I don’t have any answers. I try and live my life the right way.
Feels like I should somehow do more.
Cause right now...
...I’m embarrassed.
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