Why “I’m not a racist” is NOT enough

Watched a grown man’s life get inexplicably snuffed by a racist cop’s knee as his chickenshit accomplices joined in.

All four ignored his cries of “I can’t breathe” and tuned out the civilians who were there pleading for mercy. We all witnessed an American being slowly lynched by men paid to protect and serve. Yet another unarmed black man murdered by cops.

Tears and anger are not enough.

I’m a writer so I have to write, but my skin is the same color as those murdering cop’s, so I’m scared and hesitant to type anything. But to say nothing is an even bigger sin, because silence right now says, “I’m still not listening” and these truths can no longer go unheard.

It’s time for everyone in the U.S. to start communicating about this country’s race issue, America’s 400-year-old open wound that keeps bleeding over.

We gotta talk about this race thing, especially us white guys.

There’s a lotta white guys like me who aren’t racists but who suffer from some degree of “white guy ignorance” – which means having no clue what it’s like to be black in America and making little purposeful effort to change that. 

Plus we’re dudes, so most of us suffer from a natural lack of empathy, which makes us even more clueless about how these race issues affect Americans of color. No excuses, just the truth.

For context, my skin’s been totally white since birth. I’m neither proud nor ashamed of that since I had absolutely nothing to do with it.

I went to an almost all-white grade school, high school, and college. Not on purpose – race never consciously entered into it. The decisions were mostly based on where we lived, a white neighborhood, because I’m guessing moving anywhere else never occurred to my white parents when they were choosing. 

Despite this thoroughly Caucasian upbringing, I was taught by my Catholic parents in no uncertain terms that a person’s skin color was entirely irrelevant and that all people were created equal, and I believed them, still do.

When I was six, my Irish mother taught me first hand how to shut down racism whenever I see it by yelling her disapproval at my father’s aunt who dared use the “N” word at a restaurant. 

Regardless of being raised without prejudice, I didn’t make my first “black friend” until I was out of school and working at a corporation.

Except I never thought of him as my black friend, just as my friend, still do.

Then, when I became a touring comedian in the 90’s, my racial worldview was forced to expand exponentially.

Don’t get me wrong, the audiences at the clubs I could initially get work at attracted mostly white people, but I began working with comedians of color. Hilarious and intelligent black men and women who had the same goals as I did – to make people laugh and to make it as a comedian.

Many of these black comics and improvisors became my work friends, some of them became good friends, and if I’m honest, for a long time I thought that having these people of color as my buds meant that not only was I not a racist, but that I understood what I needed to know about race relations in America.

Kinda like a toddler who believes what they’re thinking is how things must be. 

Goo goo, ga ga.

I’m guessing probably a lot of middle-aged white guys are similar that way – we’re not racists, so the idea of what it feels like to be a minority in America never occurs to us. Nor do we spend much time thinking about how all the systems in this country were designed by white men and may be rigged a certain way. We’re mostly thinking about ourselves, boobs and making money.

Then in the mid-90’s, I had a huge racial awakening.

One of the black comics from Chicago I was working with in Peoria, a guy named Ali, did something incredible for me that completely shifted my understating of what it feels like to be the minority.

And when you hear how basic a lesson it was, you’ll get how racially naive “white guy ignorance” can make even a decent man like me.

It was a Saturday night, me and Ali’s first week working together, and we’d just done two sold-out shows for mostly all-white audiences and killed, including a spontaneous musical duet at the end that left the crowd standing and cheering for more.

Thinking back on it, I realize that not once during that week had I given any thought to the fact that Ali was the only black guy at the comedy club every night. 

Never occurred to me. 

Dude was hilarious, confident, incredibly intelligent and unshakeable and we immediately became friends. But the minority situation he was dealing with all week honestly never entered my mind.

Goo goo, ga ga.

After some drinks in the dive bar next to the club with our new adoring (and white) Peoria groupies, Ali asked me if I wanted to go with him to a “black joint” in town he’d heard about.

“Hell yeah!” I told him. I mean, we’d just exploded a room full of paying customers together, so I was ready to do some more Peoria damage with my new best friend. Cool adventure kinda thing.

Cut to us at 1:00 am, cruising slowly on the south side of town. Gulp.

I won’t lie, I got nervous the second our car reached the part of town where Ali’s “black joint” was located. No overt danger…just strings of abandoned buildings and boarded-up houses, stripped and rusted out cars on blocks lining the street, litter and graffiti everywhere. Lots more sirens and horns honking and general shouting. Groups of young blacks were scattered here and there on street corners staring at our car as we passed. Unsmiling. Kinda angry looking, at least to a scared shitless white dude they were.

Felt like they were staring right at me because I was the out-of-place minority. Of course, they were, what the hell was I doing there?

That wave of uneasiness I felt had nothing to do with racism in my mind, it was a fearful reaction to the ugly energy of a poor city neighborhood. Never occurred to me that race played a huge part in the politics of why that neighborhood was crumbling, my “white guy ignorance” revealing itself once again.

The parking lot was packed, but we found a spot near the back for my maroon Ford Probe. 

Tough to describe the uncomfortable and nervous feeling that swept over me the moment Ali and I stepped through the front doors of that “black joint.”

It was well-lit, a smoky BBQ / blues bar / cafeteria with a live band wailing in front of a packed house. The place smelled like smoke, cologne, and stale alcohol, so basically exactly like the comedy club we’d been working at. 

Well dressed folks were eating and dancing and drinking and laughing and loving and having themselves a fun Saturday night. One thing stood out to me, though, and I noticed it the exact second I walked in.

I was literally the only white person there. Believe me, I looked.

I’d been in “mixed” company plenty of times, but this was the first time I was truly the only white guy in the house.

I’ll never forget that feeling, the energy, the impact of that moment standing there with all those unknown “faces of color” suddenly staring at us, at me.

Right then, Ali turned towards me with a huge smile on his face, put his arm around my shoulder and shouted over the music, “Hah…NOW you know!”

Goo goo, ga ga.

That blew my mind wide open. Ali knew EXACTLY what I was feeling in that moment. He recognized it and it made him laugh. Me too, eventually. 

Oh man, that one moment changed my entire life.

Afterwards, Ali explained that the way that felt to me, the “one of these things is not like the others” energy that hit me square in my fat white forehead, that caused a look on my face that cracked Ali up, he told me that’s what black people feel every single day of their lives as minorities in America.

It’s the constant unspoken message of “you ain’t one of us” and my white guy ignorance had kept me from seeing that truth and understanding the negative impact it can have on someone.

Man, I did NOT like the way that felt at all, still don’t.

Again, there was no danger, nothing threatening, to the other people in the room that moment meant nothing. But to me it was the first time I had ever experienced a visceral, visual truth that I stood out as being absolutely different than everyone there, that they all had something in common that I had nothing to do with.

And I have to say, it never occurred to me that that was a thing. I’m sorry. Truly.

Had no clue that there is a red-flag feeling attached to being the only “whatever” in the room. 

And despite having a blast and being embraced by everyone I got to meet that night with Ali in Peoria, I couldn’t help but carry that “I’m different” feeling with me that entire time, even though that group did absolutely nothing to make me feel uncomfortable in any way.

And here’s the kicker that Ali was nice enough to point out later on – for me, the white guy, it was one Saturday night, and then I got to go back to being a member of the majority.

For my friend Ali and every other American black man like him, that’s their world 24/7, getting stared at whenever they try to do something, anything, in our majority white society.

Like drive. Or jog. Or walk. Or stand. Or watch freakin’ birds.

Understanding this one disturbing aspect of being Black in America opened up my world and ended much of my white guy ignorance. 

That’s because it got me to gradually start asking a lot of questions about other things that might be true for Ali and black men in America but not true at all for white guys like me.

I flipped the script on some basic questions and asked…

Do white men get the cops called on them for walking alone in black neighborhoods?

Are white men guilty until proven innocent during traffic stops? Do innocent, unarmed white men fear for their lives when getting pulled over or questioned by the police?

Is the internet flooded with video clips of unarmed white men being abused and killed by black cops?

Would a white quarterback who’d taken a knee during the anthem to protest how military veterans are treated in America still be playing in the NFL?

If a video of a white jogger being hunted down and shot to death by black men surfaced, would it take months to arrest them?

If angry black men armed with AR-15’s marched on a government building to protest anything, would any of them still be alive?

If a black cop had knelt on a white man’s neck until he was dead while staring unapologetically at the camera, do you think it would take almost a week to charge him?  And would it be on third degree murder charges at first?

Do white Americans have to figure out how to succeed in a financial system that was set up to totally favor rich Blacks?

Do white Americans have to interact with others knowing some of them still consider them less than human?

Um, that’s a giant NO across the board there…

As educator Jane Elliott asks all her audiences: “If you, as a white person, would be happy to receive the same treatment as our black citizens do in this society, please stand.”

Want to guess how many white people stand?

Speaking of refusing to stand…

I make a living as an NFL blogger these days, so I saw firsthand how Colin Kaepernick’s peaceful protest against this very injustice was belittled by everyone from irritated fans to the president.

Other black athletes also protested peacefully by using social media and wearing t-shirts with messages on racial injustice and they were told unequivocally by many to “shut up and dribble.”

At every point of peaceful protest blacks have attempted to make on this critical issue, the clear message they got back from America was this:

“Race problem? What race problem? You crazy, we’re over that, you best get over it, too, and get back to work.”

So now protests become the language of the unheard, as a great leader once said.

We’re having to watch furious gangs of the “unheard” deliver that same message but in a very different way, by taking loudly to the streets, by attempting to march peacefully as a group until America finally listens.

Except some are so angry they’re burning things and others are so selfish they’re looting – but surely the rest of us are intelligent enough to understand the difference between those few rioters and the rest of those peaceful protesters.

But of course the internet is blowing up with whites telling blacks how “that’s not the way to get things done!”

Wow, hypocrite much?

Don’t EVEN act like we’ve never been that angry before, white people.

When the white American revolutionists got tired of not being heard by King George, they destroyed 46 tons of his tea (worth $1 million dollars in today’s money) by tossing it straight into the Boston Harbor.

White women protested angrily for a hundred years, even burning their bras in the streets, until they finally got their equality recognized.

And when gays of all colors got tired of their humanity being ignored, they used beer bottles and bricks to reinforce their message.

Hell, when even Jesus got tired of not being heard by the money changers polluting the temples, he trashed the place to get their attention.

As the host of the Daily Show Trevor Noah just said, “There is no right way to protest because that’s what protest is. It can’t be considered “right” by the system that it’s protesting.”

Truth.

And now, because a general affliction of “white guy ignorance” caused too many of us to refuse to listen to Kaep and other peaceful attempts to tell white America that black lives matter…  that “I can’t breathe”… that there is something systemically wrong with the justice system in America… 

eventually the pain and frustration became too huge for those “unheards” to keep inside. 

So now black and brown and white American protesters are taking to the streets to make their voices heard.

Now America is burning.

And careful who you blame for that part.

We’re also seeing clear video of paid white rioters smashing store windows and cement curbs with hammers and spraying “BLM” on the outsides of Starbucks and pushing blacks directly into the lines of police.

I’m seeing inviting pallets of bricks magically appearing near protest sites.

I’m watching people on their front steps getting paint canister-ed back into their house by the military marching down their street.

Point is, there are bigger forces at play here attempting to use this valid protest of racial injustice in America to achieve a whole other ugly agenda.

America is broken.

The virus proved that easily enough.

It only took most of us two weeks of not working to go broke and panic.

It only took $1,200 to distract us from our POTUS’ fumbled response.

And it only took watching three cops using the weight of their collective bodies to blatantly murder an unarmed and handcuffed black civilian to get millions of people off their couches and onto the streets to finally demand change.

Wondering what it will take for all of us to finally realize that this isn’t just a race issue, though it’s undoubtedly that. 

It’s also a money issue.

Those who currently have most of the money are historically known to use race and politics and sexuality and fear and anger and religion to divide the rest of us into easily managed groups.

That’s to distract us.

But America is changing.

Or at least it’s finally set up to, because now even poor people have access to technology.

Everyone’s got a cell phone, which forces all of us to be more accountable. 

With cell phones we have constant internet access so we can always Google the truth and Snope out lies… and watch video clips of gurus using simple language to explain complicated issues..

Many Americans are wising up and beginning to see a bigger picture of what’s happening in this country because we’re using apps and sites on the internet to follow the money instead of the distracting headlines that the powers-that-be use to divide us.

Not all of us are taking advantage of this new technology and access to information, but enough of us do to make a difference.

We’re slowly beginning to understand that there must be something broken with a criminal justice system that allows an undercurrent of white supremacy at various levels of their police ranks in 2020.

And how politicians are being bought off by the rich to change tax laws in their favor.

And that life goes better for the uber-rich if the rest of us are distracted and busy fighting amongst ourselves over race and politics and religion.

Except poor people can’t buy politicians – we can only vote them in or out. 

But not enough of us are willing to make even that small effort  anymore. 

Especially now that polling places are being purposely limited in minority neighborhoods and mail-in balloting is, for subversive purposes, currently being demonized by the right.

Can’t blow off election day and then wonder why the tax laws don’t favor us.

And why healthcare and education and the prison system are profit driven.

And why the American middle class has essentially disappeared.

And why racist cops continue to get hired and remain free and unpunished when there is undeniable proof that they committed murder on unarmed citizens.

We wonder why it’s the same-ol-same-ol with no hope of that changing…

But the short-term solution to most of these long-term American problems is actually simple.

It’s one word, four letters, two vowels, two consonants.

VOTE.

Want to truly honor George Floyd and the countless other black victims of this racially unjust American criminal justice system the way they truly deserve to be honored?

Vote.

Cast your vote in November to elect the people who vow to begin making serious changes to the system, who will hold murderous police officers to the same standards as the rest of us.

Want billionaires to start paying their fair share of taxes?

Vote.

Want a healthcare system in this country that works for all of us?

Vote.

Want to live in a country where every citizen who wants an education can get one?

Vote.

Want laws that apply to the rich the same ways they apply to the poor?

Vote.

Want to stop America’s for-profit wars that put our soldiers in harm’s way so the military industrial complex can make money selling arms?

Vote.

Want sensible gun laws?

Vote in November for the politicians who promise to start working on making all these changes happen.

And if there are no politicians promising that?

Stand up, become one and change the world.

My heart goes out to all of you in pain right now.

Know you’re being heard, finally, by the rest of America.

Know that George Floyd’s murder and the killing of other innocent unarmed blacks by the police is unacceptable and his will not go unpunished.

Know that black lives matter. Truly.

Know there are many people not of color who want to help make America great for everyone of every color.

To respark the American Dream that says we all get a shot at greatness.

America’s a damn melting pot, not separate blocks of cheese.

Let’s start acting like it.

Let’s start voting like it.

Let’s start rebuilding America for all of us, one multi-colored ballot at a time.

In the meantime (and long after November)… here are a few productive things we non-racist-white people can begin doing to help advance this long overdue cause.

First and foremost, do like my momma did and begin actively calling out racists who dare show their ugliness in front of you. Let them know in no uncertain terms that you will not tolerate that type of racist garbage in your presence. And don’t be polite about it – get angry. How dare they think that’s okay in front of you!

These dinosaurs will either figure it out and evolve or gradually die off.

Yes, it takes guts to speak up and confront a blatant racist in public, but white people can no longer stay quiet and be polite around that filth. That silence is being seen by these idiots as unspoken agreement, and we can’t allow them to think that anymore.

Another thing we non-racist whites can do is to educate ourselves and our children on American race issues. Teach the true history of racism in this country and help them understand why we are now trying to move forward.

For those like me new to this journey, click here for some excellent Anti-racism resources for white people. So much great info there.

And finally, if you want to show black America they matter, that their lives matter as much as everyone else’s, that you acknowledge their pain and their struggle, there’s an easy way to let them know without using words.

This comes from one of my oldest friends, Brian, a proud black man, who years ago invited me, a goofy white guy, to be in his beautiful wedding. 

When I asked Brian how people that look like me can let people that look like him know that we see them as fellow Americans, as valuable humans, as true allies in the fight against injustice, he said it’s easy.

He showed me a simple gesture that lets a person of color know that the white person they’re standing next to in the elevator… or are in line with at the grocery store… or are sitting across from in the waiting room or on the bus… that you’re on the same side as them, an ally in the fight against racism.

You simply smile and make eye contact, then point to them and quickly put that same hand over your heart.

“That’s it,” Brian told me. “We’ll get it.”

Consider it done.

 

– Mike Lukas