It rained last night. I haven’t been able to properly enjoy these storms, knowing that they officially qualify as a disaster, rather than simply in the minds of those who don’t appreciate precipitation. The effect has not been wonderful on my sinuses, either, so make sure you put that in your documentation (and smoke it), FEMA.
\n
\nAs I drove home in one of the cloudy repreives last night, I nearly struck someone in the road. Before you make judgments on my driving, let me say this. The streets were like obsidian, pure black but reflective and the streetlight was not operating on that cross street. The fellow himself was very dark-complected, wearing dark clothing and meandering sluggishly through a “Don’t Walk” indicator. And I was practically the only car on the road; he could have waited for me to pass to cross at his leisure. When I finally saw him, I probably did not have to swerve to avoid him, but it would have been a close call for someone with visual acuity far above mine to make.<\/p>\n
What is it in people that makes them think they should get so close to speeding cars in the perpendicular crossing? I live in Bayview and more than a few Kinnickinnick traffic build-ups have been due to teenagers with such impatience that they have to take the first ten steps into the street, rather than simply wait for cars to pass. Then, to pile problems on, they STRUT when the space in traffic occurs rather than, say, briskly walk or jog.<\/p>\n
Despite the danger factor here, it’s a simple matter of courtesy. For one thing, you are not so important that you’re allowed to waste my time thus. For another, while the law demands that I yield to you under any circumstances, it is not your place to abuse that law for whatever whimsical end. I understand now why people in New York and other such cities are portrayed at yelling at pedestrians; it seems the only way to bring this issue to light.<\/p>\n
As is my way, I tend to attempt to work out what motivates a person to do the inconsiderate things that could never enter into my own behavior. I think it’s a power thing. The idea is that they had such presence and power that the car had to move for them, even though they were clearly moving in a manner deliberately elephantine. Often times, perpetrators of this particular social pissing contest will stare the driver in the face as they pass.<\/p>\n
Probably, that is what causes me the most distress of any road-rage inducing act. The foolish idea that the other person feels empowered by it. My only options being “give in” or “crash into someone,” I obviously choose the former, but subconsciously I feel weaker. And that makes me want to pound them into paste. Hence, road rage. And anger like that only makes more associations in my brain when the person is of a certain race.<\/p>\n
I do not know many black people. With one or two exceptions, they are only acquaintances. This could be due to Milwaukee being a very seregated city, racially. No matter the circumstances, the fact remains: the most common contact I have with any black person is them doing this very thing, as though daring me to hit them.<\/p>\n
I have noticed people of other races doing it, of course. But since this is the most common contact, I biologically associate this behavior with them, unfair as it is. After all, this sort of behavior is due to upbringing, not genetic melanin. I can disassociate the behavior from black people I have met, but not as easily with strangers. I know it’s not black guys, just *that* black guy \u00e2\u20ac\u201d or more appropriately, just *that guy*. But in that moment, the association is made and when emotions are high like that, the connection become very strong.<\/p>\n
I don’t want to think that way, and I do rationalize myself out of it, considering myself a fairly socially conscious person. Instinct, however, is a sticky wicket. I was listening to RadioLab’s podcast on memory and I learned quite a bit from their bit on arachnophobia. It seems that when a memory-blocking drug is introduced when the phobic is shown the object of their fear, the associations can slowly be removed by destroying the protein chains which link images of the object with the anxiety sensors of the brain (I am simplifying and paraphrasing). But that fear was at some point created in the brain, whether by accident or reinforcement. It’s how we’ve survived this long. Spider = potentially dangerous, according to past information.<\/p>\n
So, I have to struggle against my own brain creating those visual links. Spider = I will be needlessly frightened, black man in the road = I will be impotent, and thus enraged, in this pedestrian power struggle. The anger (leads to hate, etc.) and the anxiety of the moment makes that memory form solidly. And then when I am introduced to a black person in a more social setting, I fumble awkwardly being hyper-aware of my own stupid prejudices. To my black friends, I am sincerely sorry if I gave or give the wrong impression; just stupidity on my part.<\/p>\n
Because my father had recently expressed his concerns that his new neighbors were too loud late into the night, and had blamed it at least partially on their being black, I think my dream last night associated my own prejudices with his. In the dream, he was upset with me for leaving much of my furniture and packed boxes in his garage. He refused to help me move it into a trailer I had, so instead I brought the Car Talk guys to come and help. But after they had talked to him for a while, they felt alienated by his talk of the neighborhood and left. I had to call Clare to come down and help me move.<\/p>\n
That was a long way around that dream journal, eh? I really do hope I expressed myself properly here. I was just sort of ruminating on how racism could come to be in what should be a more enlightened age, and these were my thoughts. If I offend, I apologize, but hashing this out on virtual paper helped me understand it better.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
It rained last night. I haven’t been able to properly enjoy these storms, knowing that they officially qualify as a disaster, rather than simply in the minds of those who don’t appreciate precipitation. The effect has not been wonderful on my sinuses, either, so make sure you put that in your documentation (and smoke it), […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":38,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false}}},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p73iP8-cf","jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":756,"url":"http:\/\/www.steelbuddha.net\/?p=756","url_meta":{"origin":759,"position":0},"title":"And Iran… Iran’s so far away.","date":"6\/10\/2008","format":false,"excerpt":"Last night, I dreamed that my friend, the choreographer and dancer Garrett, was in Iraq and for some reason I had gone to visit him. 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