For example, I love Jen Hatmaker. I love a lot of what she says. Then one day, I thought, "Shit. I think she is a Democrat." Did I do the dreaded, "unfollow" or the worse, "unfriend"? Did I send her hate mail and denounce all things Jen Hatmaker? Did I consider the color of her skin? Nope. I had that thought. That, Shit, I think she's a Democrat thought and then I MOVED ON. She's white. Maybe I should read more into this. Just kidding, I still read her posts, I've been following her tour, we see eye to eye on raising children and chickens. For one, don't name them -the chickens I mean. The children, her message, as I see it is embrace them and the moments. The moments matter. Remember her end of school year post? It was art.
http://jenhatmaker.com/blog/2013/05/30/worst-end-of-school-year-mom-ever
Then she posted about being deeply racist because she saw a black person in first class and thought how great it was that a black person could sit in the nice seats. I don't do this. When I see a black person in the nice seats, I think, "Damn. Wish I was sitting there. Someday...maybe..." Moving on to thinking, "OMG. Does that person (in front of me) have 6 carry ons? How'd she get past the guy at the door?" I honestly can not recall the color of her skin. I think she was older than me though. I only remember her juggling bags, holding up the line and hogging an entire overhead compartment. She was seated somewhere in the teens of A,B,C or D, as I went search for seat 24C at the back.
I have great friends. Janice. She has been my friend the longest. She would hide a body with me if I asked, I refer to her children as if they were my own and she will delete my browser history when I die. Monica. Monica is there for me 100%. She makes me laugh and cry. I would hide a body for her if she asked. We have plans to retire to tiny houses and be neighbors. Donita. We pick up wherever we leave off. We commiserate about our teens and our spouses. She saved me a ton of money helping me with my finances. We both wish I had a tattoo. These women are all of different color. Dare I say it? Americans. Oh wait. My friend Trisha is not American. She doesn't mind my chickens in her yard and my kids would rather live at her house. I would do anything any of these women asked of me, because I love and respect them. Not once did I consider the color of their skin.
What we do is accept and love each other. We give honest opinions about family, hair and outfits. Brutally honest opinions. The friend who is Mexican, she doesn't like cilantro. I feel this is an injustice to her culture. She, in turn, refers lovingly to my German bone structure and demands that I don't wear heels. The friend who is black, she and I talked about culture and color and it did not result in a riot at Panera. It is simple respect and communication. The white one and I have lamented our genetic inadequacies, mostly referring to our mothers and our butts. These are just some of them, the amazing women in my life. The differences in our cultures has only enriched my life. This is not racism. I love them and they love me. I would take a bullet for anyone of them.
We are, mostly, all the same. Most of us are trying to make a buck and handle our shit. The guys who installed my furniture today were from Charlotte. They were different colors and they were friends. I could tell by the way they talked and worked with each other. They were the same as me. Working, loving their friends, bitchin' about their significant other. (From what I heard, L needs to let his girl go, she needs to grow up a little.) At one point, he thought he offended me because he knew I overheard him say "fuck". If he only knew me, right? I said, "Please (eye roll)...I don't give a fuck." We all had a good laugh. I brought them water and left them in my house for over an hour while I picked up my kids. Not once did I think about the color of their skin. I worried that when they got back to Charlotte, they would get hurt.
So, stop. Start with the people around you, the guy at the store, the lady at the airport, the Democrat, be nice (unless its Hillary). Accept. We are all just trying to figure it out. When you run across the dumb asses, the ignorant ones? Pray for them. It is hard. I know because I pray for Hillary, but they need it.
We Are All In The Same Gang
And then there is this classic.
I had to.
