Dumb White Girl? Here!

Shhh... we’re not supposed to talk about it.

During University, I had a good friend, Deron. We lived together for a semester – and I never even had sex with him (I know… shocker!). Deron and I got on really well and we had some good times together; we shared the hobby of making fun of other people's work in our program behind their backs. I guess we both had minor “artistic god complexes”, so our friendship was a good fit... for the most part.

He was from the Bahamas and had been coming to Toronto for school since he was 13. He went to a swanky private boarding school during high school and then attended U of T for four years. His parents bought him a car in both countries so he would always be able to “get around”. In addition to his vastly expensive wardrobe directly from Ralph Lauren's catalogue and various techo-toys, he let it slip once that he had 5 servants on his family estate in the Bahamas.

Now, would you say that he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth? I would say a big fat “YES!” and that’s fine… good for him and his family… my issue arose with his artwork.

Every. Single. Piece. that he created had to do with being an oppressed black man in a white society.
Are you fucking kidding me? 
In reality, he was an over-privileged, sheltered private school boy, and on canvas, he was an angry black man.

I would like to think that I’m not completely naive, but I just didn't get it. I confronted him about it once in a very joking, nonchalant way and he jumped down my throat spewing out remarks like,
“You have no idea what it’s like to be me!” 
“You have no fucking clue what it’s like to be black!” 
Hummm… please enlighten me, because from where I stood, his life looked pretty damn good!

I am aware that harsh racism does still exist in many parts of the world, 
and that is truly a tragedy. 

But Deron? He totally road the double standard highway. If I played Pearl Jam too loudly, he would complain that my “white music” was annoying him – music that is emotional and poetic – and he would try to drown me out with harsh gangster rap songs about drugs, violence and that's demeaning towards women. Could you just imagine if I called it “black music”? He would have signed me up as a card-carrying member of the white hoods if I said that. Good lord! I would NEVER have even considered spitting gas on THAT fire.

So, my point and question is simply that I get so frustrated by people that constantly dwell on the past… not even THEIR past… we’re talking two hundred years ago. People came (and still come) to Canada to escape racism. So, after years of over-coming oppression and being awarded the same rights and opportunities (if not more) than other races, why do some choose to dwell on the past? Or obsess over the colour of their skin?

{Credit: Viewaskew Photos}

I’m not saying forget it, but learn from it and be stronger for it.

Am I just been naive?

I’ll finish with the wise words of Hooper X from Chasing Amy, to whom I often thought Deron was similar to; although he wasn’t gay like HooperX, he was definitely a well-groomed, advantaged metro-sexual leading a stage personality in the name of A.R.T.

Hooper X:  I need to sell the image to sell the book. I mean, would the audience still buy the whole black rage angle if they found out the book was written by a... you know...

Banky Edwards:  Faggot?

Hooper X:  When you say it, it sounds so sexy.